Outlines of Metaphysic/Part 1

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PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
§ 8. Metaphysic is the science of that which is actual, not of that which is merely thinkable. By actuality we distinguish a thing that is from one that is not, an event that happens from one that does not happen, a relation that exists from one that does not exist.

It is improper to apply the term ‘Being’ to this distinction; for this term, according to the customary usage of speech, designates only one kind of actuality,—namely, the motionless existence of things, in opposition, for example, to the happening of events.

Yet more hazardous are the designations of ‘Position’ and ‘Putting.’ For, since the very form of the word in this case indicates a transaction, these designations easily mislead us into the wrong course of wishing to understand or describe this transaction of ‘putting’ or ‘positing’; or rather (as we choose to express the thought) of raising the inquiry, how ‘actuality in general’ is made. But no one can tell precisely how it is brought about that, in general, something is, instead of there not being anything at all; or how it is made possible that something enters existence through coming to pass, instead of everything remaining as it was of old.

This problem is not merely hopeless, but also contradictory. For every attempt to show how actuality originates, assumes the antecedent actuality of some conditions or other, out of which, or according to which, it originates. We can therefore never deduce all actuality, but always merely one form of actuality from another. And the problem of metaphysic is actually this: To discover the laws of the connection which unites the particular (simultaneous or successive) elements of actuality.

§ 9. If we summarize the most universal factors of the ordinary view of the world, it will be found to include the following suppositions: There are ‘Things’ in indefinite number; every thing supports certain ‘properties,’ and can, in so far as it has a previous existence, enter into all manner of ‘relations’ with other things; and these relations are the reason on account of which ‘changes’ originate in the things.

How much that is not lucid these suppositions contain, will be shown only little by little. At present, it is enough to remark that the two simplest of the conceptions here employed, that of a ‘Thing’ and that of its ‘Being,’ however lucid they appear at first, on closer consideration grow always more and more obscure.

While we require that the ‘Thing’ shall be thinkable before its properties, we, for all that, never achieve the actual thought of it otherwise than by means of its properties. While we further require that it must first ‘be,’ in order afterward to experience somewhat or to enter into relations with other things, we, for all that, never in experience find a ‘Being’ whose apparent rest does not itself rest upon uninterrupted motions and actions; nor are we able even in our thoughts to discover a perspicuous conception of what we mean by such ‘Being’ as this.

These dilemmas afford us the first materials for our investigation; more precisely, we treat first of the true significance of ‘Being,’ and afterward of the nature of that to which this particular species called actuality can appertain.

CHAPTER I.
OF THE SIGNIFICANCE (THE CONCEPTION) OF ‘BEING.’

§ 10. If the ordinary understanding is questioned as to what it means when it mentions something as ‘Being,’ in opposition to not being, it will without doubt appeal to immediate perception, and assert: That ‘is,’ which may, in some manner or other, be the subject of experience by the senses.

If, however, we choose to formulate this expression exactly as follows,—‘To be’ signifies ‘to be the subject of experience,’—then this definition of ‘Being’ would by no means completely express what we actually mean by the word. For we ascribe ‘Being’ to what has been previously perceived, even when it is no longer perceived; and we consider its being perceived as only something which may possibly appertain to the thing in consequence of its unobserved, separate existence, but which is not identical with this.

In what now this unobserved ‘Being’ consists, the ordinary understanding explains very easily. While the things, that is to say, disappear from our perception, they still continue to stand in all kinds of relations with one another; and it is these ‘relations,’ in which, while they are not being observed, the ‘Being’ of things consists, and by which it is distinguished from ‘not being.’

In more general terms: ‘To be’ means ‘to stand in relations,’ and being perceived is itself only one such relation beside other relations.

§ 11. In opposition to the foregoing mode of apprehending the subject, philosophy is wont with great vivacity to explain: ‘Standing in relations’ can be asserted only of that which exists previous to such relations. Accordingly, the ‘Being’ of things can consist neither in their relation to us, nor in their relation to one another; it must rather be thought of as a perfectly pure and simple ‘position,’ ‘affirmation,’ or ‘putting,’ which excludes all relations, but forms the ground of the possibility of becoming related at all.

If we attempt to think of this pure ‘Being,’ and to give to ourselves an account of precisely what we mean by it, then we meet with the difficulty of being unable to specify anything by which such a ‘pure Being’ may be distinguished from non-being. For if we actually exclude all relations, then the ‘pure Being’ would consist in a mere ‘position’; by virtue of which, however, that which is thus existent cannot be discovered at any place in the world, or at any point of time in the succession of events, and does not assert itself in actuality by any effect upon anything whatever, and cannot be affected at all by any element of actuality. But it is precisely by these same features that we recognize, as we believe, the non-existent.

Consequently, the definition, which represents ‘Being’ as ‘Position without relation,’ is so imperfect that it comprehends precisely the opposite of that which is to be defined; it therefore needs correction.

. The purport of this conclusion is exactly the same as that which forms the beginning of the Hegelian logic, in the proposition: ‘Being = Nothing.’ But the succession of mental operations which we have in this case accomplished (namely, an attempt at definition; a comparison of the definition arrived at with what we really meant, and the discovery of a contradiction between the two; and, finally, a discernment of the necessity of revising our definition), appears to Hegel as an inner development, which was gone through, therefore, not by our thoughts, but by their object: the Absolute, first thought of as pure Being, is obliged to discover itself as such to be actually identical with Nothing, and then, out of this unseemly identity, to posit itself again by a new act of development in the new form of ‘determinate existence.’

§ 12. It will be objected that, none the less, an existence, previously thought of in relations, cannot by abstraction of these relations, pass over into a non-existence; and that, therefore, the pure Being of the existence, which remains after this abstraction is made, is even still the contrary of non-being.

This objection is just only in so far as we doubtless mean by the term ‘Being’ that which is the opposite to non-being: we design to affirm and posit, not to deny and annul. But we are mistaken in holding that it is sufficient to consider this positing or affirming, intended by us, as valid in actuality, without concerning ourselves about the conditions under which these two conceptions have any applicability to actuality.

These conceptions really belong to the large class of abstractions which we correctly produce to aid the process of thinking, and which, in the process of thinking, we are also able, by combination with other conceptions, to convert into useful results: they are not, however, applicable at all per se; but they first become applicable to what is actual, when we attach to them again the abstracted correlates through which their meaning is completed.

Thus the conception of ‘positing’ is not applicable at all, if it is designed, without media, to posit merely something, and yet not posit it anywhere whatever. Thus, moreover, we cannot ‘affirm’ a Thing, but only a predicate of a thing.

‘Pure Being,’ thus apprehended, would therefore be only the conception of an affirmation, to which must be supplied both the subject of which the affirmation is supposed to hold good, and the predicate which is supposed to attach itself to the subject.

It follows, accordingly, that, as was shown above, the ‘Being’ of things can consist only in certain relations on which the act of positing affirmatively falls, and not in a pure act of positing without any definite condition in which the ‘Thing’ was posited by the act.

§ 13. A further exception can be taken (so Herbart): If any existence, in order to be, must be related to some other, and accordingly pre-supposes this other, then a constant, durable positing of actuality can never come to pass.

This objection, however, confounds the useless question, how a world would get itself made, with the metaphysical question, in what forms of coherence can the existing world consist. And even if we should make a world, it would remain incomprehensible why the creating force, which we must then in every case assume and can in no case further explain, would have to be subject absolutely to the limitation of positing only one element at a time. But if we suppose that this force posited the entire manifoldness of the elements of the world, as related to each other, at one time, then the whole difficulty would disappear, and all the elements would remain constant; although each,—or rather, in this case, because each,—is related to the other.

Just as lacking in cogency is the other thought of an antecedent unrelated position, which is needed to make possible subsequent relations. An element which were out of all relation to all other elements, to the world in general, could not even subsequently enter into such relation. For, since it is obliged to enter, and is able to enter, not into ‘relations in general,’ but into certain perfectly definite ones, to the exclusion of others, the reason for this selection and this exclusion could be discovered afresh only in other ‘relations’ that would be already existing between the above-said element and the world. There is therefore no transition for ‘Things’ out of unrelated ‘Being’ into the condition of being related, but only an interchange of different relations.

§ 14. For the sake of explaining the world, even the view which seeks for true ‘Being’ in ‘Position’ without relation, is still compelled to assume that things do, as a matter of fact, everywhere stand in reciprocal relations; only—this Realism goes on to say—they are not so necessarily, but could likewise ‘be,’ devoid of all relation.

But the above statement means nothing else than this: There ‘is’ actually nothing which does not stand in relations; or, all ‘that is’ does stand in relations. To speak, indeed, of ‘pure, unrelated Being,’ and at the same time admit that there is none such, means the same as to speak, not of the existent (which it is still necessary somehow to make good as ‘existing’), but of the non-existent,—something which this view considers possible, but which we consider a mere abstraction that has absolutely no direct significance with reference to actuality.

CHAPTER II.
OF THE CONTENT OF THE EXISTENT.

§ 15. If ‘to be’ means the same as ‘to stand in relations,’ then further inquiry arises: partly, What are the relations, to stand in which constitutes for things their ‘being’? partly also, What are the Things, which as subjects enter into the relations?

The second question, to which from reasons of convenience we give the precedence, does not mean that the characteristic and concrete content of things is to be specified,—whether of every individual, in so far as they might happen to be distinct from one another, or of all collectively, in so far as they might happen to be of one essence. We have rather in this case to do only with the discovery of the universal formal predicates which must appertain to all that (whatever else it may be) which is to be called ‘Thing’ or which is to appear in actuality as the ‘Subject of relations.’ In other words: we seek a definition of ‘Thingness’ (Dingheit).

§ 16. The belief of ordinary intuition, that it has an immediate perception of the nature of things, can be only very short-lived. On closer consideration, it very soon learns:—

(1) That all perceptible ‘Things’ although they first appear to intuition as undivided wholes, are composed of many elements, and that all their sensible properties depend upon the form of this composition, and change with it;

(2) That the simple elements, in which we must now seek for the genuine ‘Things,’ not merely remain imperceptible, but that it would also be in vain to want to define their essence by means of other sensible qualities, since all such properties are dependent upon conditions, and, accordingly, cannot indicate the necessarily unchanging essence of the things, but only their way of behavior varying according to circumstances; finally—

(3) That sensible properties also are not attached once for all, as changing phenomena to a single subject, nor do they proceed from it alone, but that they are always only events which are attached to the concurrence of different things.

For this reason, therefore, sensible properties are neither directly the content of ‘the Existent,’ nor are they phenomena which, although in an indirect manner, do, nevertheless, express the true nature of this Existent; they are rather events which indicate indeed the fact and the manner of the affection or action of things, but never specify what the things are.

§ 17. After it is obvious that no kind of sensible properties form the content of Things, we still do not need to resort to the desperate expedient of speaking of an existence that were absolutely devoid of content, and the entire nature of which consisted in indeterminate ‘Being,’ without any definite Somewhat to which this ‘Being’ appertains. The very name, ‘the Existent’ by its participial form (in German, das Seiende) requires somewhat conceivable in itself which may as it were participate in ‘Being.’

It would therefore be most pertinent, as a rule, never to speak of ‘the Existent’ absolutely, but always only of this or that definite existence. The first expression were allowable only on the supposition that the essence of all things be identical, and that there be, accordingly, only one existence, which just for this reason could be designated by the name of ‘the Existent,’—a name which in that case would appertain to such content merely, and to no other. The second expression makes it much more evident that just such is the content which must be pre-supposed as the content of ‘Being’; and since it is attributed to whatever (no matter what else it may consist of) has the universal predicate of ‘Being,’ it does not include the pre-supposition—which it would be unjustifiable to make at this stage of the question—of the identity of all that exists.

§ 18. Now since a content for ‘the Existent’ is indispensable, some persons recur to Quality; but, instead of sensible quality, to one which is super-sensible, which remains unknown, and from which as its later consequences the sensible properties are supposed to originate (Herbart).

If this assumption is not supposed barely to assert outright that the essence of ‘Things’ is unknown, then it can only design to assert: We know at least so much concerning this essence as that it may be formally apprehended under the general notion of quality. The inquiry now arises: In what does the specific character of this conception consist?

Without exception, the only qualities which are known to us as simple are those of sense, such as ‘red,’ ‘warm,’ ‘sweet,’ and the like; what we might designate as super-sensible qualities,—for example, ‘strong,’ ‘pious,’ ‘good,’ and the like,—very soon proves to be a form of representing the definite modes of the behavior of one subject under definite circumstances. We can therefore merely form the general notion of ‘quality’ in such a way as to lead us to seek further for the universal factor of all sensible qualities. Now since the classes of these qualities are altogether disparate,—warm and sweet, for example, having no common element in their content,—such universal factor lies solely in the form which our representation gives to them all.

The above-mentioned form of representation consists in this, that every prime quality is perfectly homogeneous; that in itself it furnishes no motive for analyzing it into parts, or compounding it out of parts; further, that the parts, which the act of thinking undertakes in an artificial way to discern therein, are absolutely indistinguishable from one another, cannot be brought into any essential relation with one another, and prove to be mere repetitions of our representation of the quality; and further, that on this very account, ‘Quality’ in itself includes no reason for a definite form, magnitude, and limitation of its own content, but must wait to get this reason from something else, with which, as quality, it is found.

In brief: All qualities are adjectives, and cannot designate that which admits of being thought of merely as a subject (‘Thing’), but only that which is merely predicate affirmed of another subject.

§ 19. To the preceding view it may be objected: This universal ‘Quality,’ that we had but now in mind, which is thought of as formless, and only just qualitatively determined, is, of course, not as yet a ‘Thing.’ But just as little must it be assumed as though it were a kind of ‘Stuff,’ not yet cut out, from which, by an act of limitation that is still waited for, actual things are going to be cut out. In actuality there is, from the very beginning onward, nothing but just these individually limited and definite qualities, from which only we, by our comparative thinking, subsequently form the abstraction of a universal, unmoulded ‘Quality.’ And it is precisely the aforesaid limited qualities that are the things themselves. To require, however, a demonstration of the way in which conversely ‘Things’ originate out of formless, universal ‘Quality,’ signifies only the renewal of the old senseless inquiry, how ‘Being’ is made.

Fundamentally correct, however, as the foregoing refutation is, it is not with it that we are concerned. For we are not wanting to know how things are made, but are only asserting that the conception of a ‘Thing’ is not thought in its completeness, when we simply think it by means of the two conceptions of an individually determined ‘Quality’ and a ‘Position’ that rests upon this quality. For mere ‘Position’ cannot make that upon which it falls into anything different from what it was in itself. Even when posited through an unconditioned ‘Position,’ those qualities would always remain simply qualities posited, and would not be changed into ‘Things’ by the act of positing.

It appears then that the conception of ‘Thing’ is thought, in its completeness, only by means of three conceptions: namely, first, the conception of the before-mentioned Quality; second, that of Position; and third that of a Subject, of which the quality is affirmed by means of the position. This, as ordinarily expressed, signifies what follows: ‘Things’ cannot be qualities, but can only have them.

§ 20. The above-mentioned matter will be better understood if we reflect upon the following fact, namely, that we do not assume ‘Things’ for their own sake, but in order that we may have them as subjects,—as the points of egress and of termination for ‘events’ and ‘relations’ For such a purpose a ‘Thing’ whose nature consisted merely in a simple quality posited unconditionally would be quite unsuitable.

We can divide all relations into two classes; first, relations of comparison, which originate at the moment when our perfectly voluntary attention brings any two elements, or rather their mental images, into a contact with each other that is quite indifferent and unessential to the elements themselves. Such relations—for example, ‘similarity,’ ‘contrast,’ ‘larger’ or ‘smaller,’ and the like—signify nothing at all as to what reciprocal influences the things have. The second class, on the contrary,—that of objective relations,—expresses a proportion which is not merely constituted between things by our thinking in an arbitrary way, but which is really extant for the things themselves in such manner that they are reciprocally affected in this same proportion. For example: The merely logical relation of comparison alluded to above,—that of ‘contrast’ (of which, in itself, the things that stand in it do not need to take any note),—would become an objective or metaphysical relation, if it is understood as a resistance which things really offer to one another.

Now it is obvious that only these metaphysical objective relations are of any value with respect to the essence of a ‘Thing.’ For everything that can be conceived of at all, the unreal as well as the real, admits of such merely logical comparison.

§ 21. To such metaphysical or objective relations as the foregoing,—that is, therefore, to being affected by one another,—simple qualities are quite unsuitable. For as soon as the qualities are simple, every change of their content (and such a change is included in the very conception of being affected in any way) completely annuls this content, and then an altogether new content would take its place. This new content could, it is true, when compared with the former, appear to be connected with it by a definite degree of similarity. But this relation of mere comparison (by which even what is most diametrically opposite, even what is altogether incomparable, can be brought into a certain connection) does not by any means justify the assumption of an interior combining of the two in such a way that the second were a ‘state’ of the first.

The essence of a thing, if it merely consisted in a simple quality, would therefore with every change be itself totally changed; that is, a new somewhat would take the place of the old as it vanished, and the ‘Thing’ would have in itself no kind of ‘reserve,’ to which, as to its permanent nature, it could withdraw on the occasion of a change in its quality.

. The reciprocal effects which appear to take place in experience between simple qualities, everywhere go on only apparently between these qualities. Warmth per se does not change into cold per se; but only so far as the two are states of the same body, or of two bodies in contact, does the nature of these bodies carry along with it the impossibility of both states occurring together. ‘Cold’ is not in this way made ‘warm’; but in a particular body the state of being cold is replaced by that of being warm. So that all action and reaction here depends upon the yet unknown nature of the real subject, and, on the contrary, only appears to take place between the simple qualities in themselves.

§ 22. To sum up the foregoing observations: The peculiar deficiency which prevents ‘Quality’ from being the essence of a ‘Thing’ consists in its simplicity. Because of this simplicity, quality, on the one hand, furnishes no inner principle of limitation, and never forms a whole; and, on the other hand, it can only exist or not exist, but can never during its existence be the subject of states of any kind.

We are obviously obliged to require a certain ‘unity’ of the nature of ‘Thing.’ Just such unity, however, never appertains to what is simple, but in all cases only to that kind of multiplicity which, by a law of the combination of its parts, is so connected as to resist every unregulated increase, diminution, or change of its consistence, and to permit only such change as invariably leaves the new state subjected to the same law of its composition.

Passing over the further difficulties of this subject, we express merely our provisional result as follows: The essence of ‘Things’ is not simplicity, but the above-mentioned unity; and if this unity is to be apprehended in thought at all, such apprehension cannot happen in the mental form of the intuition, the object of which is a quality, but only in the form of the conception, the object of which is a law of the combination of the manifold.

CHAPTER III.
OF THE CONCEPTION OF REALITY.

§ 23. It is self-evident that, if we sought for the essence of ‘Thing’ in a multiplicity combined into unity, we did not design to consider this multiplicity as such, but only the bond which connects it together, as constituting this essence. On the contrary, it is well worth the trouble to inquire in what way it is possible to conceive of the fact that this bond, which proximately exists only in our thinking as the mental picture of the coherency of the manifold, is also really extant in the ‘Thing’ as an actual power over its properties.

§ 24. The doubt that arises next in order is the following: Quality, although in other respects insufficient, at least furnished us with an intuitive, concordant content as the essence of ‘Thing’; but the conception which apprehends this essence as Law, makes it appear as though it were only a thought, which itself, in turn, is a net-work of relations between various points of relation. If quality, therefore, was too simple, then a law is not simple enough to form the essence of ‘Thing.’

This first objection is not dangerous. For the compositeness and multiplicity of those operations of thought, by means of which we are wont logically to explain and to express the content we mean, is no proof whatever that the reality meant by that content is itself also composite. If therefore the essence of a ‘Thing’ were for us inexpressible save by many circumlocutions, yet it could none the less be a perfect unity, and need not itself consist of those parts, from the combination of which we originate its expression.

It will be objected, further, that a law appears even much less capable than a quality, of that reality which must appertain to every ‘Thing.’ This objection we might obviate, in so far as it is undoubtedly self-evident that, wherever we design to define in thought the essence of ‘Thing’ the thought-image by means of which we make the attempt, must remain as a mere image distinct from the real Thing. Moreover, we can in no case give such an expression to our thought of the essence of ‘Thing’ as would be the real Thing itself, and not merely a designation for our cognition. And, finally, in every case, the way and manner, in which there becomes attached to this content of thought in us that actuality which makes the content to be a Thing outside of us, invariably eludes all our investigation.

§ 25. Nevertheless, the whole matter is not quite settled; but the question recurs, Whether a ‘Law,’ even if we think of it as actualized by means of an ever incomprehensible ‘Position,’ can in that case be a ‘Thing.’

All that, to which we in other matters give the name of ‘law,’ is merely a valid rule, or a truth that prevails in the connection of our ideas, or in the connection of events as well. Of a ‘Thing,’ on the contrary, we demand a great deal more; it is required to be a subject, that can fall into states, and be affected and produce effects.

Nothing of this kind, however, appears possible as occurring in the case of a truth, which is always valid, which always is what it is, and which, since it never changes, can never pass through any experience. Every such ‘law’ is rather comprehensible by us merely as that mode of relation which flows from the inner nature of somewhat else; and it is in this somewhat else that we are now looking for the true essence of ‘Thing.’

In other words; our consideration of what was meant by the essence of ‘Thing,’ leads us in a provisional way to the opinion, that the conception of this essence cannot be exhaustively defined without the use of three thoughts combined together:—

(1) The Quality of the Thing, that is, the law considered above, or the essentia by which the Thing is what it is, and by which one thing is distinguished from another;

(2) The idea of the ‘Real,’ the substratum, or ‘stuff,’ in which this essentia is coined, as it were;

(3) The idea of ‘Position,’ by means of which the unity of both the foregoing thoughts is formed into the conception of an actual thing, in antithesis to the bare thought of the same thing.

§ 26. The conception of a ‘Stuff’ (substratum, ϋλη) originates from the ordinary perception that a multiplicity of homogeneous parts, by diversity in the mode of combining them, is fashioned into objects of very diverse properties. Those homogeneous parts therefore, when taken together, appear to us as a yet crude neutral material, which is transformed into products with definite characteristics only by a subsequent process of forming. At the same time, we know very well that this is only relatively true. The ‘stuff’ is formless only in comparison with the products formable from it; in its own self, however, it has a form which distinguishes it from other ‘stuffs,’ and is just as much a complete ‘Thing’ as are those which originate from it.

On the other hand, the thought of a ‘stuff’ loses all significance, if we are no longer speaking of composite secondary things, but of simple primitive essences. For what we should consider in every one of these simple essences as the ‘stuff’ in which the characteristic essentia (by means of which one thing is distinguished from another) were actualized as form, would now inevitably have to be regarded as perfectly indefinite, as a so-called ‘mere reality per se’; its whole nature would accordingly consist in ‘Being’ in general, without being anything in particular, in being affected and producing effects in general, without being affected and producing effects in any definite way to the exclusion of all others. That is to say: Such a ‘reality’ would obviously be only a logical abstraction, which could never have any actuality in itself, but always only in that from which it has been abstracted.

In other words: Reality means for us the ‘Being’ of a somewhat that is capable of being affected and of producing effects. Everything with which this definition comports, is accordingly called a ‘reality,’—that is to say, has this title. But there cannot be a ‘reality per se’—which were nothing—as the bearer of this title. What is supposed to be real must merit this designation by being susceptible, through its own definite and significant nature, of having reality in the meaning alleged.

§ 27. After we find it impossible to distinguish in ‘Thing’ a kernel of unconditioned reality, and a form (essentia) attaching itself or given to this kernel, we are driven in the next place to the opposite view. This view asserts that the ever incomprehensible act of ‘positing’ (by means of which actual is distinguished from non-actual) does not in the first instance fall upon somewhat real of a universal kind contained in the Thing, in such manner that this somewhat real, by the stability now secured to it, acted as a media to provide permanency and actuality to the content also (by means of which this particular thing is to be distinguished from others). [It might, in fact, even be shown that it is perfectly incomprehensible how such a process could happen; and that all expressions of the kind—the content ‘attaches itself’ to the reality, or ‘inheres’ in it, etc.—are ways of speaking devoid of all specifiable signification.] On the contrary, the aforesaid act of ‘positing’ falls entirely without media upon the content itself, upon the essentia by means of which one ‘Thing’ is distinguished from another. But since this essentia is such that it, in its relations to every thing else, always behaves consistently in accordance with a law, there originates for us the unavoidable appearance of a reason for this consistency; and this reason being distinct from all particular properties and states of the Thing, and, consequently, also from the totality of its content, lies at the background of that content,—the appearance, that is to say, of an unconditioned reality on which the content depends.

§ 28. The second view mentioned above can be briefly expressed as follows: ‘Reality’ is that ideal content, which, by means of what it is, is capable of producing the appearance of a substance lying within it, to which it belongs as predicate. The manifold difficulties of this view must be postponed for subsequent consideration; in this connection we shall only bring to light the fact that this proposition needs supplementing in order to express,—not, to be sure, a specific conclusion, but, at the least, an accurate postulate.

If by the term ‘Ideal’ we understand such a content as (or a content, in so far as) can be exhaustively reproduced in thought, then such an ‘ideal’ (even if it be not apprehended as a universal proposition, law, or truth, but as completely individualized, somewhat like the idea of a definite work of art) would always remain a mere thought; and, even if it were ‘posited’ as actual, it would not in this way obtain that capability for producing effects and being affected, which we are forced to consider as the most essential characteristic of ‘Thing.’

We are forbidden, therefore, to understand the expression ‘Ideal’ as thus opposed to the ‘Reality’ previously referred to; on the contrary, we must adopt into its signification the auxiliary definition, that what we so style has this meaning only with respect to our thinking. That is to say, it of itself, in a manner never demonstrable in thought, contains the aforesaid ideal content actualized in the form of an energizing existence; but it does not owe this power of energizing to a real ‘stuff’ that is equally unattainable by thought.

Therefore, neither does the reality precede its content; nor does the ideal content, apprehended in a one-sided way as a thought, precede its own reality. To hold fast by such a separation of the two would only signify that we were, in our metaphysic, regarding the manifoldness of the logical operations through which we think of the Existent as though it were a like manifoldness of processes in the Existent itself. Just as colors do not first give forth light in general and then (in the second place) become either red or green; and just as, conversely, red or green does not already exist in the darkness and merely become manifest by means of the light; just as little is there first a reality in the ‘Thing’ which afterward assumes definite form, or first an unactual form which is afterward realized by an act of ‘positing.’

§ 29. In order to elucidate in some degree the meaning of our previous very abstract reflections by a concrete example, let us call to mind an idea which we very ordinarily are wont to have of the essence of the ‘soul.’ Since we only have to do with elucidation, it is left altogether undecided whether this idea is of itself perfectly correct, or whether it, like perhaps our own result as thus far reached, stands in need of a further correction.

(1) No one looks for the ‘being’ of the soul in an altogether relationless, self-sufficing ‘position’; but the soul is only so far as it lives,—that is to say, stands in manifold relations, of affection and action, to an external world.

(2) No one looks for its ‘essence’ in a ‘simple quality,’ so that the true nature of the soul would consist in this quality, while the entire manifoldness of its further development would only contain an, as it were, incidental succession of consequences, which would be wrung from this quality by circum. stances. Rather do we look for what is most essential to the soul in its character; that is to say, in that quite peculiar and individual law which appertains to the coherency of all its manifestations,—a law which always remains identical, while the occasions for these manifestations are variously changed.

(3) We have no thought whatever, at least in common life, of taking this personal character of the soul to be an ‘Idea,’ of itself devoid of all effect, which as pure form is attached to a ‘soul-stuff’ that is in itself formless, but for this reason, all the more real. On the contrary, whoever thinks of that character of the ego (or, more correctly, of that characteristic ego), believes himself therewith to be thinking of the entire essence of the soul;—to be thinking, therefore, of that which, in itself and without media, constitutes the subject of all spiritual affection and action, and, accordingly, the reality of the soul.

CHAPTER IV.
OF CHANGE.

§ 30. If our conception of the essence of ‘Thing,’—that it is an individual self-subsisting Idea—is, little by little, to gain the clearness in which it is still deficient, then the thought which manifestly lies concealed in it must first be brought to light: namely,—It is possible that any a may, under certain ‘conditions,’ assume a ‘form’ α, or a ‘property’ α, or a ‘state’ α, which it would not have without this condition, and which, accordingly, is different from a; but still in such manner that a, on occasion of this transition into α, remains identical with itself. We can call this in general the problem of change; and it is a matter of indifference for us at present, whether this change follows in time on account of the mutability of the aforesaid conditions, or whether a permanent condition impresses a permanent state α, that is different from its essence, upon the a.

§ 31. In the present case also we are to recollect that our problem does not consist in showing how, in general, a ‘change’ (if we think of it as in time-form), or a ‘state’ (which we may be able to think of as permanent, and therefore not in time-form) is made, and can be brought to pass. The attempt to show as a universal law by what mechanism in ‘Becoming’ the sequence of one condition upon another could be produced, or in what way that which we call a ‘state’ could be imparted to a subject in general, would very soon teach us that these questions are just as insoluble as the question, how ‘Being’ is made.

Our problem can merely be, to conceive of ‘Becoming’ in such manner—that is, so completely, with all the points of relation, separations and combinations of our particular ideas, belonging thereto—that the total idea of it is without contradictions and adequate to those facts of experience which we wish to designate by means of it.

§ 32. Two opposite views attempt to solve this contradiction,—that, in changing, one and the same being is assumed to be both like and unlike itself,—by abolishing the unity of the being which passes for the subject of the contradictory predicates.

One view (that of Herbart and of physics) asserts that all individual beings, which are not already aggregates of others, remain perfectly unchanged; and that the manifoldness of varying sensible properties proceeds, for us, merely from the variation of their external and non-essential relations with one another (situation, position, combination and separation, motion, etc., of the atoms). The varying sensible properties, therefore, appear merely for us as a change of the beings themselves.

Nevertheless, it is very easy to comprehend that this theory, even when most strictly carried out, can only suffice to eliminate from all external nature any change in reality itself, and to reduce it to mere variation in relations; but that, on the contrary, an actual interior changeableness must, all the more inevitably, find a place for itself in that real being for which, as for the perceiving subject, the abovementioned appearance of an objective change is assumed to originate. For in order that something may appear, a being is necessary to whom it appears. This ‘appearing,’ however, has no significance except that of ‘being experienced.’ Now, in order that the cognitive being may experience, sometimes α and sometimes β, it must manifestly pass over from one state, in which it previously was, into another, which previously was not. And we certainly cannot assume that this passing-over is only a variation in the external relations of this being to other beings, but that the being itself would be in no wise affected by such variation. For, in such a case, this being would not really experience anything, but would only appear to a third observer to be experiencing something. This, however, is contrary to the assumption; for we wanted to know, how it is that anything appears to such a being itself, and not how it can seem to a second being as though something were appearing to the first one.

From what is said above it follows, therefore, that at least the percipient being must be conceived of as one that undergoes genuine interior changes, in order that the mere appearance of change may originate at all from the changeable relations of other unchangeable beings.

§ 33. An opposed theory—that of ‘absolute Becoming’—tries to avoid the contradiction, while it altogether abolishes the real subject of change and maintains only a variation of phenomena, behind which no ‘Things’ at all lie concealed.

Phenomena are, nevertheless, always phenomena of something or other, for some subject or other. The theories which make use of this expression have on this account, as a rule, come to the conclusion, not to deny all reality, but only the independent reality of individual things; and to regard the latter as ‘phenomena’ of a single infinite Reality,—whether in the sense that this Reality causes the things to appear to us as objective, or that it, so far as it shapes also the nature of our souls, merely produces in us, in a general way, the idea of a world of things without its having any actual existence.

An actual ‘absolute Becoming’ would be taught only by such a theory as should assert that the actuality itself (not merely the phenomenon of an actual being) changes so that, in the place of one actual being which disappears, there comes another newly originated, without the conveyance of any reality, common to both and serving as the common subject of their content, from the first being over into this second. But such a complete discontinuity between every two moments in the world’s course would be absolutely incompatible with thinking of this course as subjected to any ‘law’ or any ‘order’ whatever. For no law can ever combine necessarily what is subsequent with what is previous, if the previous state, which is assumed to contain the reason for a definite application of the law to the subsequent state, is so absolutely separated from this state that the two do not even belong to the same World. But that the course of the world is obedient to laws,—according to which it does not merely run on of itself, but can also, within certain limits, be changed by us at will,—belongs, as an associated impression of all our experiences, so much to the sphere of our most assured knowledge, that it would be scientifically insipid to examine further a theoretical fancy which is incongruous with it.

§ 34. The conception of change in that which is real, is, therefore, not to be avoided. In order, nevertheless, to avoid unnecessary difficulties, we must raise the further inquiry: To what extent, then, are we under the necessity of requiring an application of this conception?

Now in the actual praxis of apprehending the world, no one supposes that a being a can change without some principle of change and ad infinitum, so that at last it would become a z, in which no recollection of a is any longer to be discovered. The sphere of change is universally found to be limited in such a way that any a changes only into α, α$1$, α$2$,. . ., any b only into β, β$1$, β$2$; and, in general, every real being changes only into such a ‘closed series’ of forms as, taken collectively, are deducible from the original nature of the being; while no being can ever pass out of the series of its own forms over into a series of forms belonging to another being.

Moreover, in the praxis of explaining the world, it is just as firmly supposed that a being a never passes into a new state α by its own agency alone, but only so far as a definite ‘condition’ X, that is different, however, from a, affects this a; so that, according to the law of identity, a in itself must, of course, always = a,—that is to say, must be unchangeable,—and, on the contrary a + X can be = α, a + Y = a$1$, etc.

§ 35. Now, in the next place, this conception of change, when practically and actually applied, contains twice over a certain supposition of which we have to become cognizant.

That is to say, first, when we assert that every being is developed only into such forms as can flow ‘by way of consequence’ from its own nature, and never into other forms, then we manifestly consider all the thinkable predicates, which admit of being represented as future forms of whatsoever beings, to be cohering members of a single system comprising everything thinkable; and we do this in such a manner that each thing, as a member of this system, possesses a definite degree of relationship to, or a definite magnitude of difference from, all the other members. For only thus is there any meaning to the statement, that some forms, α, α$1$,. . ., take their rise from a ‘by way of consequence’; while other forms, β, β$1$,. . ., could proceed from a only in an in-consequent way, and, therefore, in this case, not at all.

Secondly: when we make the ‘conditions’ affect a so that different changes of a correspond to different conditions, we likewise assert, not merely that these conditions, X, Y,. . ., must be comparable with each other, but also that there must exist among them such a comparableness to the nature of a and the nature of α, α$1$,. . ., as makes it possible that, in general, something follows from the conditions; and that, by way of consequence, there follows from one condition something different from that which follows from the rest.

After this supposition is once expressed, it appears trivial for the reason that it actually lies at the foundation of our entire consideration of the world from its very beginning. Since it contains no contradiction, there is nothing in it to correct; but it suffices to become cognizant of it, and to comprehend that it forbids every attempt to think of the essence of a ‘Thing’ as a unicum, such as were quite incommensurable with other things. The rather would an intelligence, which completely penetrated this essence, be able to apprehend it every time by a combination of such ‘elements of the thinkable’—that is, of such predicates—as appertain, not merely to this one, but also to other things.

§ 36. The conception of change is, nevertheless, distinguished further from the mere conception of a series whose members can be deduced from one another in thought.

That is to say, the more such a comparableness of all that is thinkable is conceded, the more easily must different forms permit of being arranged so that some of them can be regarded as proceeding from the others according to a definite law; and the latter again, in inverse order, from the former. Thus every member in a series of numbers depends upon every other, at pleasure. None of these members however actually originates from any other; and, likewise, in the whole series of them no change takes place that invariably presupposes a subject subsisting through all the members of the series. On the contrary, there takes place only a succession of forms that are indeed comparable, but independent, and that do not come into existence one from the other.

In ‘change’ all members of the series are to be regarded as ‘states’ of one and the same abiding reality, and it is just in this way that there arises in the conception of change the contradiction which is foreign to the mere conception of a series; namely, how this reality can remain identical while it is passing out of one state into the others.

But at this point we raise the inquiry, whether this entire assertion of the identity of the ‘Real’ with itself during its changes does not belong to those exaggerations which are discoverable in the abstract conception of change, but not in its actual application to the praxis of explaining the World. Why should we not rather admit that a, when it passes over into α, does not remain identical, but is itself really changed. As soon as we assume that such change takes place by means of a condition X, and that the α must uniformly be transformed back again into a by means of an opposite condition - X, then we have in this form of representation all that we need in order to comprehend the actual change of things in experience. It is not necessary that a reality a remain uniformly = a, and that it assume α, α$1$,. . ., merely as its ‘states,’ (a way of speaking, from which nothing whatever can be gathered as to the actual transaction whose nature it should describe); on the contrary, it suffices that a, while it is continuously changing, remain always within a ‘closed series’ of forms, every one of which can be transformed by means of definite conditions into every other, and no one of which can be transformed by means of any condition into any form foreign to this entire series.

This conception of a constancy or fixed connection of antecedent and consequent (Consequenz) we, therefore, substitute for the unserviceable conception of a complete identity of the same reality with itself during its changes.

§ 37. The other thought which lay in the conception of change,—namely, that a does not pass over into α unconditionally, but only under some definite condition, X,—calls for still further deliberation. The question is, what is meant when it is said: a is ‘conditioned’ by X.

The above expression is clear to us only in the sense that, if we in our consciousness place the representation of a in relation with the representation of X, and compare the two, then there arises the mental necessity of conceiving of the third representation α. The significance of this is: the content of α, for our thinking, has its underlying reason in a combination of a and X. But in all change of what is ‘real’ it is not merely the conception of the subsequent state which depends upon the content of a condition, as one mathematical proposition may depend upon a substitution which is introduced into another; but the state α is produced, by means of another state and by means of the condition affecting it, as an actual state,—it having been previously without any actual existence.

Now, in actuality, nothing but ‘Things’ and their relations exists. If, therefore, a condition is to be discovered, under which not merely thoughts result from thoughts, but actualities from actualities, then this condition must lie in some relation or other, which occurs between two or more things after having previously not taken place. The inquiry now arises, in what way the natures of these different things can become reasons for change in one another; that is to say, how one ‘Thing’ has an effect upon the other.

CHAPTER V.
OF CAUSES AND EFFECTS.

§ 38. From the repeated succession of single events ordinary reflection develops the idea of an inner connection between them, which furnishes the reason for this succession in time, and which as it is frequently generalized, expresses this idea as follows: ‘Everything has a cause.’

The above-mentioned proposition is exaggerated. For not merely are valid truths like those of mathematics,—even when a reason can be discovered from which insight into them is gained,—produced by no ‘cause’; but not even everything actual requires an act of causation. It is only the change of something actual that requires this. The ‘Being’ of an existence can in itself be regarded as perfectly unconditioned and eternal. It is only the special nature of what exists, that can, on manifold other grounds, excite a doubt respecting its unconditioned existence and an inquiry after its origin. Even such an investigation, however, must terminate in the recognition of some unconditioned being or other. And the well-known infinite regression, following which, every cause pre-supposes a new cause, is nothing but the token of a mistakable use of the conception of ‘condition.’

§ 39. It is, further, incorrect to say that everything has one cause. This expression gives the appearance of speaking as though one being suffices by its own agency to produce the effect ‘readymade,’ and then somehow merely transport it to a second being as into an empty space.

In the actual application of the causal conception we do not perpetrate this error: on the contrary, we are persuaded that the effect which a being a exercises, never occurs at all without a relation X in which it stands to a second being b; and that this effect, therefore, does not depend on the discretion of a, but can be exercised by it only under the condition of this relation, and, when the condition is fulfilled, must be exercised.

We further know that the effect of a is different according as it stands in the same relation X either to b or to c, d,. . . ; and that it therefore depends just as much upon the nature of the being (b, c, . . . ) which appears to us to be the ‘passive object,’ as upon the nature of that (a) which we style ‘efficient cause.’

And not less do we know that the effect, even between the same beings a and b, is different according as they stand in the relation X or in the other relation Y; and, further, that in every case the changes of the effect depend, according to a universal law, upon the changes or varieties of the things a, b, c, d,. . . and the relations X, Y, Z.

Finally, the effect produced will itself constantly consist in a change of both co-operating things (causes), and, likewise, in a change of their relation: that is to say, it will be a ‘reciprocal effect.’

§ 40. The ordinary usage of speech does not accurately correspond to that behavior of ‘Things’ described above as metaphysical.

Very frequently the reason (Grund) for the entire form of the subsequent effect (e.g., vegetation) lies in one co-operating cause (a kernel of grain), and the other causes (water, warmth, etc.) only furnish besides a condition which is necessary in order to give physical reality to this effect thus provided with a reason. According as one regards the work done in primarily fixing the form or in its subsequent actualization to be the greater, one will sometimes designate the kernel of grain alone as the ‘cause’ of the growth, and water and warmth, etc., only as vital ‘stimuli’; or just the reverse, will designate the latter alone as causes of the plant-life, and the kernel of grain merely as the ‘passive object’ of their efficient causation.

And, further, it is very frequently discovered that the entire effect is perceptible only as a change in a single element; while in some other element no effect is perceptible, although this, too, is really changed. In such a case, the latter is wont to be designated as the ‘active subject,’ the former as the ‘passive object.’

All the foregoing expressions, accurately taken, are untrue; they are to be interpreted in accordance with the remarks above.

§ 41. If by ‘effect’ we understand the actual occurrence of a fixed event, then the explanation of it is twofold: the content of this event, by means of which it is distinguished from other events, and its actuality.

The aforesaid ‘content’ we understand as the result necessarily to be deduced, according to laws of universal verity, from those fixed relations between a and b that form the sufficient reason for this result; and on this point there is in general nothing further to add. On the contrary, even if this ‘reason’—namely, the relation X between a and b—enables us to understand why only the effect E, and not some other effect F, can proceed from the reason; still we do not on this account understand besides how anything at all can originate from that X. That is to say: An event E, the reason for which, so far as its content is concerned, is completely provided in certain relations of things, does not appear to be obliged to take place and to occur in actuality, on that account alone; but such an event, if nothing additional occurred, would remain continually unactualized to all eternity, as a result impending, necessary, and bound to be. A special impulse, a ‘complementum possibilitatis,’ appears necessary before this event, the reason for which is already complete, can be actualized.

The above-mentioned appearance is not contradicted with perfect success by asserting that every event, the reason for which is made fully complete, takes place immediately; and that where, in experience, such occurrence appears to be delayed, we invariably find some insignificant part lacking to its complete reason. It is through the addition of this part which supplies the deficient reason, and not through the addition of a special impulse of actualization to the reason, already complete, that the impending event becomes one actually occurring. For all the examples which experience offers us, of delay in the occurrence of an effect, do without doubt admit of such explanation; but this is just because, in a way which is not yet clear to us, the matter, in fact, stands as follows. The ‘complete reason’ for the content of an event (by means of which it is distinguished from other events) always includes likewise the ‘complete reason’ for the actualization of the same event, as soon as the aforesaid reason of the content is not merely thought of, but is itself actual as a state of this thing and of that other thing, and as a relation between them both.

At this point the problem presents itself: To comprehend why it is that this fact of the actual coexistence of two different things and of the abovementioned relation, can include the reason for the actual occurrence of what appears to our thought as a consequence necessarily to be inferred from this fact. That is to say: We wish to know, how the aforesaid ‘Things’ can ‘act’ on one another.

§ 42. The ordinary opinion at this point tells us of the ‘passing-over’ of an ‘influence’ from one element to the other (Causa transiens, Influxus physicus), and thinks to see herein the process of efficient causation.

But it is neither possible accurately to define that which is here assumed to ‘pass-over’; nor, if this could be done, to make intelligible from it the act of causation.

For, in the first place, if we consider what ‘passes over’ to be a real element c, which separates itself from the real element a, and ‘passes over’ to another element b; then this is, to be sure, a possible form of representation, and, in fact, many apparent effects produced by the natural elements on each other depend upon this way of behavior. But in such cases, seriously speaking, no efficient causation is present. When water (c), for example, with all its properties passes over from a to b, the only effect produced is that these properties now appear at the place b (which becomes moist), and vanish at the place a (which dries off). If, however, that which passes over is assumed to be not a real element, but—as the manifold names ‘state,’ ‘influence,’ ‘efficiency,’ ‘force,’ indicate—something which cannot exist by itself, but only as the predicate of another subject; then the ancient proposition is valid,—‘Attributa non separantur a substantiis.’ In other words: A ‘state’ and the like, can never be set loose from the ‘Thing’ a, in such manner as to exist, for an instant between a and b as the same state, but as state of no subject, state by itself, and then subsequently be attached to b.

But, in the second place: If this ‘passing-over’ of something were to be made a comprehensible affair, still the only result would be, that c would now be in the neighborhood of b; and the real question—Why is this fact of such importance for b that b must change on that account? that is, precisely how can c produce an effect on b?—would remain as much unexplained as before.

In general: The ‘passing-over’ of any element whatever, called c, from a to b, can very frequently be observed to occur as a preliminary and, for some reason, indispensable condition,—a condition without which no effect would take place in b; but this ‘passing-over’ does not explain the process of efficient causation. On the contrary, the efficient causation does not begin until this same ‘passing-over’ has already taken place.

§ 43. The doctrine of Occasionalism sought to escape from all the above-mentioned difficulties. Since it is impossible to think of any efficacy as passing over from one element to another, this conception ought to be wholly abandoned, and the course of the world considered as a succession of events, each of which is only the occasion or signal for the occurrence of some other, but none of which really effectuates any other.

It is easily obvious that, in particular sciences, Occasionalism has a meaning as the demand of methodology, not to direct useless efforts toward a domain beyond investigation. [Such sciences are those in which the investigation of the general method of procedure that one element follows in producing an effect on some other,—for example, the body on the soul,—has peculiar difficulties. In these cases, the only real fruit which investigation wins does not consist in the solution of such a general inquiry, but in the solution of the special question: With what states of the one element (for example, the soul) are certain states of the other element (for example, the body) united according to a general law.] On the contrary, Occasionalism could become a theory, an explanation of this uninvestigated domain, only if it should succeed in demonstrating precisely by what means an event a can be or become an ‘occasion’ for another event b.

§ 44. The demonstration just alluded to has always been attempted in such manner that God has been considered as the ‘Reason’ (Grund) of this reciprocally conditioned ‘Being’ of things and events. From the isolated finite being a, it has been held, there could never arise a conditioning influence upon another being, b, different from it. Only God, as the Reason of all, could supply this deficient reciprocal relation.

Now, in the first place, it is possible to say, that God in his omnipotence arbitrarily connects with a the consequence α, and, for this very reason perhaps, with a second similar a, another consequence β. Such arbitrary and unregulated interposition in the connecting together of events has found no philosophical defenders.

A second opinion makes the entire course of the world, down to the infinity of time and down to every trifling detail of its content, to be unchangeably predestined by God in the entire succession of its events (‘Pre-established Harmony’). Now, without mentioning other objections, we must at this point raise the question: If God withdraws himself again from this world, after its beginning, and if, with the beginning, its entire progress in the germ, is created; then in what does the security consist that the course of this world is actualizing the predetermined events, in general and in particular, in the order of succession enjoined, and not in one utterly confused? The famous example (Geulincx, and, alas! Leibnitz, too) of two clocks that, because of their first contrivance, always go exactly alike without having any effect on each other, proves nothing at all. For each one of these two clocks can go at all, and go uniformly, only because its own parts constantly produce effects on each other according to a fixed law.

Another form of the opinion teaches a universal hypothetical predestination: God has not determined in special everything that is to happen, but has only determined in general that if a certain χ happens, then a definite ψ is obliged always to happen. This opinion also is compelled to assume the conception of efficient causation. For if a Thing n is to be subject to the state ψ as often as the state χ is present in another Thing m, then n must take some notice of χ’s being present, in order to be able to distinguish it from the case of χ’s not being present; that is to say, either χ or m must have some effect on n.

Finally, a last form of the opinion asserts a constant assistance of God (assistentia or concursus Dei) by means of which he at every moment brings it about in special that, on α’s having just been present, the proper sequel β originate. This theory, too, does not eliminate the conception of efficient causation, but contains it twice over. For in order that God may attach to every α its β, and to every χ its ψ, it is necessary, in the first place, that the presence of the α or of the χ, at the moment when one of them is present, have some effect on God, and that the existence of α have a different effect from that of χ; in the second place, it is necessary besides that God, in consequence of the consistency of his own being, react upon the things concerned; and of course in one way to produce β, and again in a different way to produce ψ.

It would render no further assistance for the explanation of efficient causation if we planned to investigate the relation C, in which a and b are absolutely obliged to stand in order to yield a definite effect.

Universally C is assumed to be changeable, and the effect arising is assumed also to change with its changing. C is therefore, to speak precisely, one part of the reason which determines the content of the effect arising. A universal reason, however,—one by the agency of which everything in general actually originates,—would only be discovered in case all such existing relations C, C$1$, C$2$:. . . could be compared, and the characteristic common to them all determined. Even if this were possible, however, the common character Γ which such an effectuating relation would then have, would only be made good as a matter of fact; that is, we should be able to say: two elements a and b can never have any effect on each other unless the relation C between them is one species of the universal relation Γ. But how this Γ brings it to pass that something actual follows from all of its own species, while nothing follows from other relations, would remain as wholly unexplained as before.

§ 46. The result of the foregoing discussion is as follows: The conception of efficient causation is inevitable for our apprehension of the World, and all attempts to deny the reality of efficient causation, and then still comprehend the course of the world, make shipwreck of themselves. But just as certain is it that the nature of efficient causation is inexplicable; that is to say, it can never be shown in what way causation in general is produced or comes to pass. On the contrary, all that can ever be shown is, what preparatory conditions, what relations between the real beings, must in every case be given, in order that this perpetually incomprehensible act of causation may take place.

That the inquiry into the ‘bringing-to-pass’ of efficient causation is necessarily unanswerable, and in its very nature senseless, is shown by the circulus into which it straightway leads. For, if we want to get an insight into the causative process of causation itself, we naturally take for granted, as something necessarily familiar, the causal efficiency of that very cause which is assumed to produce the causation to be explained; we are therefore explaining efficient causation by itself.

§ 47. Although it is impossible to gain any positive information as to the event by means of which causation in general is brought to pass, we must, nevertheless, at least in thought, supplement our conception of causation with all those auxiliary thoughts through which its content becomes possible.

Now, in the first place, the following fact is obvious: If a is to exercise any effect which it did not previously exercise upon a b that is now present, but was not previously present, or that is now standing in a relation C to a, but did not previously stand in this relation, then it is not enough that b is now present; on the contrary, a must take some note of this new fact. Dropping the figure of speech, all this means: there must be present in a a certain state α that is dependent upon the presence of b,—a state which is wanting if b is wanting, and which forms for a the sufficient reason of its producing an effect after having previously produced no effect. That is to say, in brief, in order that a may have an effect upon b, it must be induced to exercise this effect by being itself subject to some effect from b. Exactly the same thing is true of the causal action of b on a. The carrying-out of this consideration teaches us that every two elements which are to produce an effect on each other must previously have had some effect produced upon themselves, and so on, in infinitum. It is therefore impossible, in general, to speak of the absolute beginning of a reciprocal causation between ‘Things.’ The rather,—a conclusion that easily follows,—must the reciprocal causation of all things be regarded as an eternal, uninterrupted matter of fact. In the World causal action does not alternate with non-action, but it is only the form of the individual effects, within the sphere of unceasing efficient causation, that is changed.

§ 48. We remark, however, in the second place, that the ‘passing-over’ of an influence from one being a to the other being b is still assumed even in the above-mentioned mode of conceiving of the matter; that is to say, what is or happens within the one being a is considered as the sufficient reason why somewhat is or happens also in the other being b.

Now as long as a and b have the value of beings independent of each other and self-subsisting,—no matter how similar, comparable, or related their natures may otherwise be,—so long is the above assumption without a reason for its possibility: the states of a have nothing to do with b, and conversely. All the pains-taking, however, to bring these ‘Things’ which are of themselves quite isolated, into some relation in a supplementary way, by means of ideas of the ‘passing-over’ of some influence, have been shown to be perfectly fruitless.

If, therefore, causal action is to appear possible at all, this assumption of the independence of ‘Things’ toward one another must be denied absolutely. A state α, which takes place in the element a, must, for the very reason that it is in a, likewise be an ‘affection’ in b; but it does not necessarily have to become such an ‘affection’ of b by means of an influence issuing from a.

The foregoing requirement can be met only by the assumption that all individual things are substantially One: that is to say, they do not merely become combined subsequently by all manner of relations, each individual having previously been present as an independent existence; but from the very beginning onward they are only different modifications of one individual Being, which we propose to designate provisionally by the title of the Infinite, of the Absolute = M.

The formal consequence of this assumption is as follows: The element a is only = M$(x)$, the element b = M$(y)$, etc. Every state α which takes place in a is therefore likewise a state of this M; and, by means of this state, M is necessitated according to its own nature to produce a succeeding state β, which makes its appearance as a state of b, but which is in truth a state of this M, by means of which its preceding modification M$(y)$ is changed.

Efficient causation, therefore, actually takes place, but it takes place only apparently between the two finite beings as such. In truth, the Absolute produces the effect upon itself, since by virtue of the unity and consistency of its own Being it cannot be affected with the state with which it is affected as the being a, without likewise being affected with the succeeding state in the being b,—a state which appears to our observation as an effect of a on b.

It is true that the manner in which it comes to pass, that even within the one Infinite Being one state brings about another, remains still wholly unexplained; and on this point we must not deceive ourselves. How it is in general that ‘causal action’ is produced is as impossible to tell as how ‘Being’ is made. The only meaning of this last consideration was to remove the hindrance which, consisting in the self-subsistence of individual ‘Things,’ makes the occurrence of this inexplicable process always contradictory in whatever the process itself may be supposed to consist.

Finally, it is to be remarked that the conception of the Infinite, or of the One Real Being, which we have here made use of, merely designates a postulate in a provisional way. But the inquiry how we are to conceive of this Infinite itself, and of those modifications of the same Infinite which we explain the individual things to be, is reserved for subsequent investigation.