SYSTEM OF

TRANSCENDENTAL
IDEALISM
(1800)

EW. J. SCHELLING
translated by Peter Healh
with an introduction by Michael Vater
System of Transcendental Idealism
(1800)
by F.W. J. Schelling

Translated by PETER HEATH

with an Introduction by MICHAEL VATER

University Press of Virginia

Charlottesville
THE UNIVERSITY PRESS OF VIRGINIA
© 1978 by the Rector and Visitors
of the University of Virginia
All rights reserved
Printed in the United States of America

Fifth printing 2001

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Schelling, Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph von, 1775-1854.

System of transcendental idealism (1800}

Translation of System des transcendentalen Idealismus.

Includes index.
1. Idealism. 2. Transcendentalism.
I. Heath, Peter Lauchlan, 1922- II. Title.
B2883.E5H4 141 '.3 78-6638
ISBN 0-8139-0780-2
 TRANSLATOR'S NOTE

The text of this translation follows that of the one-volume Ger­

man edition prepared by Ruth-Eva Schulz, and issued in 1957 as vol­
ume 254 of the Philosophische Bibliothek by Felix Meiner Verlag of
Hamburg. This edition is itself based on Vol. Ill of the SdmtUche
Werket published in 1856-61 by K. F. A. Schelling, the authors son,
whose pagings are given (in brackets) for purposes of reference. The
additional bracketed entries in the Table of Contents, and the page­
headings, are not due to the author, who originally provided no Table
of Contents at all, but have been adapted, for the most part, from the
Meiner text.

Initially undertaken as a companion-piece to my translation

(with John Lachs) of Fichte'目 Science of Knowledge (Appleton-Century
1970), the present work has languished in typescript for some years,
owing to the demise of its intended publisher. I am greatly indebted to
the University Press ofVirginia for enabling me to rescue it from
oblivion. I should also like to express my gratitude to Professor
Michael Vater, of Marquette University, for his admirable Introduc­
tion; to Professor H. S. Harris, of Glendon College, York University,
Toronto, for a number of textual corrections and improvements; to the
University ofVirginia, for a grant to help defray production expenses;
and to Miss Bonnie Wood and Mrs. Joan F. Baxter, for their skill and
stamina in typing, respectively, the original draft and the final version
of the book.

P.L.H.
CONTENTS
Introduction [by Michael Vater] xi
Glossary xxxvii
Foreword 1
Introduction
1. Concept of Transcendental Philosophy 5
2. Corollaries [on 'I am* and 'there is] 7
3. Preliminary Division of Transcendental Philosophy 10
4. The Organ of Transcendental Philosophy 13
PART ONE
On the Principle of Transcendental Idealism
Section I: On the Necessity and Character of a
Supreme Principle of Knowledge 15
[Supreme Principle of Knowledge:
Self-Consciousness]
[In the Supreme Principle of Knowledge,
Content and Form condition each other]
Section II: Deduction of the Principle Itself 21
Elucidations 24
[The Self is one with the Act of
Self-Thinking]
[The Self is Intellectual Intuition]
[The Self is Identity of Being and
Producing]
General Observations 31
[Self and Object; and Individual;
and Thing-in-Itself]
PART TWO
General Deduction of Transcendenta 1 Idealism
Introductory 34
[According to Fichte's Wissenschaftslehre]
PART THREE
System of Theoretical Philosophy according to the
Principles of Transcendental Idealism
Introductory 42
[On the *Self for us' and the *Self itself]
I Deduction of the Absolute Synthesis Contained
in the Act of Self-Consciousness 43
[Positing and Counter-Positing as Original
Syntheses]
II Deduction of the Middle Terms of the
Absolute Synthesis
Introductory 47
[Philosophy as Repetition of the Original
Series of Acts]
 Contents

[Philosophy as History of Self-Consciousness

in Epochs]
First Epoch: From Original Sensation to
Productive Intuition
A Problem: To explain how the Self comes to
intuit itself as limited 51
Solution [Self-Intuition in Limitation:
Sensation]
Additional Remarks 56
[On the Possibility and Reality
of Sensation]
[All Limitation only through the
Act of Self-Consciousness]
B Problem: To explain how the Self intuits itself
as sensing. Explanation [of Problem] 60
Solution I [Derivation of Producing] 61
II [Complete Derivation of Produc­
tive Intuition] 65
C Theory of Productive Intuition
Introductory 72
I Deduction [of the Product] of Productive
Intuition 77
II Deduction of Matter 83
Corollaries [On the Three Moments in the
Construction of Matter: Magnetism,
Electricity, Chemical Process] 86
General Note upon the First Epoch [On Mind
and Matter] 90

Second Epoch: From Productive Intuition to

Reflection
Introductory 94
D Problem: To explain how the Self comes to
intuit itself as productive
Solution
I [Inner and Outer Intuition] 95
II [Inner Sense and the Sensory Object] 100
III [Space and Time] 103
[Substance and Accident]
[Causality as Succession and Reciprocity]
[The Universe]
[The Series of Succession]
IV [Deduction of the Organic] 120
V [Transition to Free Reflection] 129
 Contents

General Note upon the Second Epoch 131

[Reciprocity]
Third Epoch: From Reflection to the Absolute
Act of Will
I [Abstraction of Action from the Produced] 134
[Judgment]
[Schematism]
II [Transcendental Abstraction of the Concept
from Intuition] 139
III [Transcendenta 1 Schematism and the
Categories] 142
IV [Absolute Abstraction as Postulate of
Theoretical Philosophy] 148
General Note upon the Third Epoch 151
[On the Conclusion of Theoretical
Philosophy]
[A Priori and A Posteriori]

PARTFOUR
System of Practical Philosophy According to the
Principles of Transcendental Idealism
[First Proposition: Absolute Abstraction = Self­
Determination of the Intelligence = Willing] 155
Corollaries [On the Relationship of Theore­
tical and Practical Philosophy] 156
[Second Proposition: The Act of Self-Deter­
mination explicable only by the Action of
an Intelligence external to it] 161
Additional Remarks
1. [Operations of Other Intelligences
on an Object] 171
2. [Only through Intelligences outside me
does the World become Objective for me] 173
E Problem: To explain how Willing again
becomes objective for the Self
Solution
I [Third Proposition: Willing is necessarily
directed upon an External Object] 175
A [Transition from the Ideal to the
Objective: Time] 177
B [Change only of the Contingent Deter­
minations of Things] 179
[Acting and Intuiting originally one]
[The truly Objective: The Activity at
X Contents

once Real and Ideal]

II [Matter as Organ of Free Activity] 185
[Pure Self-Determining as a Demand: The
Categorical Imperative]
[Natural Inclination]
[The Absolutely Free and the Empirically
Free Will]
[Natural Necessity, Absolute Willing, Choice]
Additional Remarks 193
[Deduction of Law]
[League of Nations]
III [Deduction of the Concept of History] 199
A [Individual Consciousness and Universal
History] 201
B [Infinite Progress in History: Gradual
Realization of the Rule of Law] 202
C [History as Unity of Freedom and
Necessity] 203
[History as Act of the Entire Species]
[The Absolute: Religion within Transcen­
dental Idealism]
[Three Periods of Revelation]
F Problem: To explain how the Self itself can
become conscious of the Original Harmony
between Subjective and Objective
Solution I [Principle of Teleology] 212

PART FIVE
Essentials of Teleology according to the
Principles of Transcendental Idealism
[Nature] 215
II [Art] 217

PART SIX
Deduction of a Universal Organ of Philosophy, or:
Essentials of the Philosophy of Art according
to the Principles of Transcendental Idealism
1. Deduction of the Art-Product as such 219
2. Character of the Art-Product 225
3. Corollaries [Relation of Art to
Philosophy] 229
General Observation on the Whole System 233
[Review]
 INTRODUCTION

The Odyssey of Consciousness

The System of Transcendental Idealism t written late in 1799

and published in 1800, is by far the most polished and complete of the
works that Schelling published within his lifetime. In its breadth, clar­
ity and integrity the work justifies the sudden fame it brought its
young author. Ironically, this work which for the next decade estab­
lished ScheUing*s position at the pinnacle of Grerman philosophy and
provided him the platform for elaborating the first system of absolute
idealism is far from the most original of his writings.1 In the main, it
belongs to the early works, the philosophical apprenticeship under
Fichte. The System, in fact, maintains its continuity with the rest of
Schellings philosophy only in its muted voicing of certain themes
which elsewhere attain their proper development—themes such as the
reality and ultimacy of nature in an idealistic perspective, nature's
function as the ground and anti-type of spirit, the self-identity of the
Absolute within dispersed finite being, the conceptual though uncon­
scious element in art, and philosophy's task of constructing a general
metaphysics upon the model of human freedom. It is predominantly a
work of consolidation, not of Schelling*s own previous philosophy, but
of the tradition of transcendental idealism, the position suggested in
Kanfs three Critiques and elevated into an epistemology and general
methodology in Fichte's Science of Knowledge. Schelling is clear on
the kind of consolidation needed:

The most general proof of the overall ideality of knowledge

is therefore that carried out in the Science of Knowledge, by
immediate inference from the proposition I am. There is yet
another proof of it possible, however, namely, the factual,
which in a system of transcendental idealism is carried out
in the very process of actually deducing the entire system of
knowledge from the principle in question. (Systemt p. 34)

Schelling's System became known to the English-speaking world

through Coleridge's Biographia Literaria, which drew heavily upon it and
other early essays of Schelling for a forty-page critique of perceptual realism.
The adaptation took the form both of direct translation and of paraphrase,
with scant acknowledgement of the exact sources. The critic's laxity later
gave rise to charges of plagiarism. For a comparison of Coleridge*s text and
its sources see G. Orsini, Coleridge and German Idealism (Carbondale, Ill.,
1969), pp. 198-221.
xii System of Transcendental Idealism

Schellings predecessors had enunciated the principle that the togeth­

erness of subject and object, of presentation and thing, can be founded
only in self-consciousness or its constitutive activity, imagination.
Fichte called this unitive consciousness the *self or the I' What re­
mains is to prove this theoretical position, to see the abstract principle
of the subjectivity of all known being verified in a system of idealism.
This system would give flesh and substance to the stance of a percep­
tual and cognitive idealism by demonstrating that the objective world
in the totality of its being and its operations is a process of emergence
from the self and its activities, most basically presentation. The world
in its objectivity, in its sensible singularity and its generality as na­
ture, and also this objectivity spiritualized as the human community
living under law, subject to time and history—this whole world is to be
constructed from the selfs fundamental quality, freedom or activity.
“Freedom is the one principle on which everything is supported, and
what we behold in the objective world is not anything present outside
us, but merely the inner limitation of our own free activity** (p. 35).
The system Schelling proposes is to annex to the idealism of this
epistemological and metaphysical principle a *real-philosophy/ a total
and faithful account of the objectivity of the physical world and of the
human structures of experience and social sharing. Or better, its task
is to prove the identity of transcendental idealism and real-philosophy,
and thus to elevate transcendental philosophy into an *ideal-realism*
(p. 41).
In his 1827 Munich lectures Towards a History of Recent
Philosophy Schelling reluctantly underscores the non-originality of
his 1800 System, its dependence on uFichtean Idealism** and on the
principle first enunciated by Fichte that freedom must ground all
philosophy. For it was Fichte who discovered that the Kantian auton­
omy of self founds not only practical or moral philosophy but also
theoretical philosophy, the account of knowledge and being (SW・，X,
96)』But the one-time disciple and popularizer of Fichte now main­
tains that he came to his own method while working under this
“cloak of Fichtean thought.**3 The essence of this method consists
in the clarification “of that which is utterly independent of our free­
dom, the presentation of an objective world which

2Non-English Schelling references are to the Samtliche Werke, ed. K.

F. A. Schelling, 1856 £, reproduced in the Munich Jubilee Edition, ed. M.
Schroter, 1927. The first numeral indicates the volume, the second the page.
3Schelling definitively broke from Fichte in 1806, though the two were
in substantial disagreement from 1800 on.
 Introduction xiii

indeed restricts our freedom, through a process in which the self sees
itself develop through a necessary but not consciously observed act of
self-positing,* (S. W.» X, 97). This process, unnamed in 1800, is now
given the name dialectic~Schelling insinuates that credit for the dis­
covery of *^Ae dialectic" is popularly misplaced.
In this dialectic or clarificatory process the positing and self-ex­
panding activity of the self and the limitation of that activity are seen
to be both and equally the selfs activity. The self is primordially both
activity and limitation; inside the process it consciously makes itself to
be both, i.e., the self itself makes itself to be both subject and object, fi­
nite and inHnite. The self is doubled in that it appears to itself; it loses
the abstract simplicity of the Fichtean self-positing (I = I); it ceases to
be in4tself and becomes fbr-itself. As Schelling explains it in 1827, in­
side the dialectical process, which is the system, the self returns from
limitation to its original freedom and for the first time becomes for it­
self (or in the System's language, consciously) what it already was in
itself, namely pure freedom or activity. Schelling further remarks
that this one process makes up the whole mechanism of the system.
What in a preceding moment is posited in consciousness (i.e., is admit­
ted as real) only for the philosopher, is in the succeeding moment
raised in the self itself; in the end the objective self (the self itself, the
subject of experience) is raised to the standpoint of philosophizing con­
sciousness and the two coincide (S.W., X, 98).
That this was indeed Schellings method and intent is evident
from a reading of the System, though often the *method* seems a
clumsy didactic device and hardly the simple mirroring of a process
inside consciousness. The claim that this dialectical procedure is
his method rather than Fichte's is plainly extravagant,4 although
the System's main advantage over the Science of Knowledge is the
adoption of this one method over the three or four that Fichte
variously employs.5 It is, at least in

'For Fichte's statements on science as the dialectic of the philosophiz­

ing and the objective self see Science of Knowledge, tr. Heath and Lachs
(Cambridge University Press, 1982), pp. 113, 120-21, 198-202. Also see the
"Second Introduction to the Science of Knowledge," op. czt, sections 5, 7, and
particularly 9 and 11.
5In the 1794 Foundations of the Entire Science of Knowledge the first
three sections on the ground-principles employ a deductive approach; the
theoretical philosophy adopts an analytic and metaphysical method of explor­
ing the possible factors inside the one real synthesis of experience; the cryptic
"Deduction of Presentation*' (pp. 203-17) a descriptive and (abortively) syn­
thetic method; and the practical philosophy a method at once synthetic
xiv System of Transcendental Idealism

general form, the same method that Hegel was to take up and perfect
in the Phenomenology of Spirit, and not the method alone, but the or­
dering of the strata of experience determined by it. It seems difficult,
if not impossible, to understand the order of experiential levels in the
Phenomenology from HegeFs transitions alone, without the pattern of
materials inherited from Fichte and Schelling before one's eyes. The
pattern of the System indicates the road that Hegel was to follow, viz.
from theory to praxis, from the individual consciousness to the objec­
tive social order, and from a world-embedded consciousness to a philo­
sophically reflective one. But it shows, too, the Kantian and Fichtean
systems which lie at its origin. Here is the System% basic structure:
(1) A general consideration of self-consciousness, dialectic and
the methodology of the system—Parts I and II, Part III in part; pages
1-47.
(2) A theoretical philosophy: the deduction of cognitive phe­
nomena ranging from rudimentary (and properly unconscious) presen­
tation up to the categories generally necessary to secure objectivity for
experience-Part HI, pages 47-154.
(3) A (sketchily outlined) philosophy of nature, contained within
the theoretical philosophy, in which cognitive phenomena are seen of
necessity to involve a reflection and validation in an objective intuited
order, viz. nature—Part III, First Epoch (conclusion) and Second Ep­
och; pages 83-129.
(4) A transcendental analysis of cognitive and judgmental facul­
ties, again contained within the theoretical philosophy. Here the pre­
vious stages of the selfs activity, viz. as productive intuition and as
matter organized in nature, are seen to be equally grounded in free re­
flection or self-relation, the activity which in practical philosophy
emerges on its own as will—Part III, pages 129-54.
(5) A practical philosophy which advances from the perceptual
and volitional solipsism implicit in the theoretical standpoint to a de­
duction of the rational human community as guarantor both of the ob­
jectivity of the world of experience and the ideality (value) of the moral
order—Part IV, pages 155-93.
(6) A philosophy of history contained within the practical
philosophy and evidencing the objectivity of will, much as the
philosophy of nature does in the

and genetic-i.e., once the category of feeling is introduced, we watch the ac­
tual growth of consciousness. Ironically, Fichte was to criticize the System for
a lack of dialectical rigor (Letter of the Summer of 1801, Fichte-Schelling
Briefu)echselt ed. W. Schulz [Frankfurt a. M., 1968], p. 126).
 Introduction xv

theoretical philosophy. Here practical philosophy, having deduced the

moral, legal and political orders of social existence, finds its subject
matter (will) existing as objectified in history and as necessarily and
collectively moving toward the ideal fulfilment of world polity—Part
IV, pages 193-214.
(7) An extra-systematic concluding section, including a (negli­
gently sketched) teleology and a philosophy of art, wherein certain
abiding problems of the system, e.g., the inaccessibility of the Abso­
lutely Identical or absolute self-consciousness, and the recourse to a
hypothesis of a pre-established harmony of freedom and determinism,
receive a solution of sorts. Aesthetic intuition is seen to be the coun­
terpart of philosophical intuition and to provide an access to the hid­
den identity which was both the ground and the goal of striving for the
consciousness torn throughout the whole dialectic between intuition
and production—Parts V and VI, pages 215-33.
The final section is extra-systematic since on the Fichtean model
of consciousness—an activity ever-deflected from complete reflection
into unconscious and preconscious production—a fully transparent
philosophical moment of self-reflection is not possible. The philosophy
of art, then, stands as a philosophical epilogue to the System of Tran­
scendental Idealism and the first announcement of Schellings own
system of absolute philosophy, the System of Identity.
The System is a rich and intricate work, and we certainly do not
exhaust its significance in mentioning the pivotal place it occupies in
speculative idealism's march from Fichte to Hegel, nor even in point­
ing to the place it holds within Schelling*s own philosophical develop­
ment. Written at the turn of the century, it belongs to two different
epochs. Its origin lies in the classic calm of the philosophy of con­
sciousness which dominated European thought from Descartes
through Kant; its impulse is toward the uneasy philosophies of will
which were to dominate the nineteenth century and which define
man, not in terms of the infinite reach of the concept timelessly at­
tained in theoria, but in terms of a dialectic of striving, need and finite
fulfilment. Let us look to some of the central philosophical themes that
the System raises, problems and positions that the 20th Century
reader can still appreciate despite the oddness * and the general
philosophical antipathy towards, the outlook of speculative idealism.
XVI System of Transcendental Idealism

The Primacy of the Practical

Like Fichte, his predecessor and exemplar, Schelling sets out to

render the Kantian philosophy clear and cogent. Read with an eye
turned back to the Kantian sources, the System seems a compendium
of the three Critiques, an attempt to organize Kant's wayward and
varying assessments of reason's function in intramundane experience,
in moral judgment and in aesthetic/teleological harmonizations of ex­
perience, and to gather them under one transcendental deduction.6
Like other readers and interpreters of Kantt Schelling is at times over­
whelmed by the material he is trying to control and seems not so much
to systematize Kant as to be setting didactic expositions of the mecha­
nisms of Kant's understanding alongside his own dialectical treatment
of consciousness. In other places he is a more successful interpreter:
Difficult as it is, the deduction of presentation as a reality-producing
intuition (Part III, pp. 51-93) clarifies the mysterious '^merely given"
character of the Kantian sensible manifold. And in his insistence upon
the central role of time in consciousness, upon its being in fact the ba­
sic character of that synthesis of the finite and the infinite which is
the self, Schelling rescues Kant's schematism from its obscure hiding
place in the text of the First Critique and gives it its proper promi­
nence.
To someone philosophizing after Kant it could appear that, over
and above the critical results of the examination of reason, and despite
all the cautionary notes, a positive Kantian philosophy was indeed
possible. Kant had left a legacy of positive doctrine pointing in the di­
rection of a systematic development—for instance, the ideal of a sys­
tematic form for all philosophy and of philosophy's function as a
metascience, developed in the Critique*^ "Architectonic**; the revolu­
tionary notion of transcendental questioning as a methodology; and, in
texts drawn from theoretical as well as practical philosophy, a fully
positive description of pure reason, operating in and for itself, as a
function of self-relation.
Following out these hints of Kant, Fichte took the decisive step
toward a speculative criticism in his apprehension that cognition
and action are fundamentally the same, that an identity, or better,
a striving for identity is the ground and motivation of reason both
in cognition and action. Reason strives for self-coincidence.

6On the relation of Fichtean idealism to Kant's texts and to a possible

system of Kantianism drawn from them, see "Second Introduction to the Sci­
ence of Knowledge/1 op. cit., pp. 42*62. See also Schelling, "On the Possibility
of a Form of All Philosophy," tr. F. Marti, Metaphilosophy, VI, 1 (1975).
 Introduction xvii

The unification of sensible experience into a world, and the further

(but for Kant, illicit) uniHeation of experiential concepts into ideas, are
but special cases of reason*s functioning, which is more basically
exemplified in practical reason's struggle to establish and maintain au­
tonomy against heteronomy, independence against external determi­
nation. Reason is self-relation and seeks to maintain identity in the
face of otherness—this is Fichte*s great insight: He concludes his
quest to define and clarify the objectivity of the mysterious not-self by
saying,
The self, as such, is initially in a state of reciprocity with itself,
and only so does an external influence upon it become possible.7
And again,
The ultimate ground of all consciousness is an interaction of the
self with itself, by way of a not-self that has to be regarded from
different points of view.8
Reason as act seeks to find and establish itself in the other. This is the
heart of the Science of Knowledge and it is this insight which for
Fichte, Schelling and Hegel determines the primacy of the practical
over the theoretical, the priority of spirit over nature. It is this pri­
macy of the practical, the vision that reason is active rather than
passive, that turns transcendental idealism decisively away from the
kind of epistemological and ontological preoccupations exhibited by
even the Kantian philosophy and toward moral, social and political
philosophy, and the philosophy of history. The issue everywhere is
freedom t the relative self-sufficiency of a finite spirit, rooted firmly in
worldly being. The post-Kantian idealists are not concerned to dispute
spirit% anchoring in an objective natural and social world, but they
want to see it interpreted in terms of the sufficiency and the life of
spirit. They want to view worldly being and its objectivity, not as an
absolute and established plenum of being, but as a totality relative to
consciousness, as acquiring meaning only in terms of that relation.
It is not mute being but meaning that is the standard, and not a
meaning rooted in brute being and finding arbitrary expression in
language, but a meaning that stems from activity, from that peculiar
activity of self-consciousness where act and awareness fully coincide.
Thus in Fichte*s eyes, and for the tradition after him, cognition as
clarified and explained by theoretical philosophy is a limited and
unsatisfactoiy form of self-activity because it is always an activity

「The Science of Knowledge^ p. 244.

"bid., p. 248.
xviii System of Transcendental Idealism

related to an other—until, that is, it is brought by philosophy to that

state wherein it becomes fully self-directed and self-conscious, in will
or activity proper.
Both within the System and over the course of his long specula­
tive career, Schelling is basically in accord with Fichte in granting pri­
ority to praxis rather than to theory.9 The philosophical system, he in­
sists, is itself an act of freedom. It is not a vision of reality passively
received, impressed from without, rather it is a free recapitulation of
the act of selfhood, the primordial synthesis (p. 49). The philosophical
system is primarily about selfhood and its conditions, and has the ba­
sic character of an act. There is no question, then, of catching things
as they are, of probing the being of things or of doing any sort of ontol­
ogy: “Being, in our system, is merely freedom suspended”(p. 33).
Even the self, the principle of system itself, is not a thing but a postu­
late; it is not a piece of objectivity lying ready-to-hand, but something
that must be enacted. **What the self is, is for that reason no more de­
monstrable than what the line is; one can only describe the action
whereby it comes about”(p. 29).
An idealistic philosophy, so Schelling maintains, can have only a
practical basis; it is grounded in the free act of spirit taking itself as
central. As such, an idealistic system is, strictly speaking, without
any purely theoretical basis; it can call upon no primary datum and
educe no proof other than its own free activity. It must in fact attempt
to reduce or re-interpret the whole theoretical standpoint in light of
free activity: Ultimacy is not to be accorded to the presentation, or to
the presentation^ objective factor (Kanfs sensible manifold), or even
to some final ground of givenness (Kant's thing-in-itself). The System,
accordingly, undertakes to explain givenness itself as an interplay of
conscious and unconscious activities; it reads the obviously non-con-
scious activity of mechanical and organic nature as equivalent to will­
ing and action (p. 12). To avoid ceding ultimacy to objectivity, it has
recourse to a pre-established harmony of sorts, which links free activ­
ity and non-conscious production without engulfing the one factor in
the other (p. 129). So that spirit shall not be lost in a world of matter
and motion, nature is itself spiritualized. Ultimately the standpoint of
cognition itself is abolished, its distinctness negated: (<What is com­
monly called theoretical reason is nothing else but imagination in the

9The one notable departure from his lifelong allegiance to the practical
and spirit-centered orientation of the Fichtean outlook is the System of Iden­
tity of 1801-1806 which is prefigured in the System s concluding sections on
history and art. It seeks a model of being not in man's activity but in a quan­
tified and formalistic approach to physical being.
 Introduction xix

service of freedom** (p. 176).

In the light of the tenuous nature of Schellings allegiance to
Fichteanism at the System's writing, one might be critical of all this
emphasis on freedom. He had, after all, been struggling to articulate a
philosophy of nature within idealism and had not met with Fichte's
approval. Then, too, the System contains many hints of the transition
to the realistic metaphysics of the System of Identity, a system pa­
tently modelled after Spinoza. Nonetheless, the emphasis upon free­
dom is genuine, not merely a formal repetition of the Science of Knowl­
edge. From his earliest writings, Schelling was moved by the spirit of
Kantian freedom to criticize and methodologically to delimit what then
appeared the only consistent metaphysics, Spinozism. (The center of
the critical tradition always appeared to be its defense of freedom.)
Even in the System of Identity, inaugurated by a work which adopts
not only the deductive form of Spinoza's Ethics but a good deal of its
naturalistic and deterministic spirit as well,10 freedom is still of capital
importance for Schelling: The existence of quantifiable conceptual
shapes (ideas) as sensible particulars is described as a TaH' from the
Absolute, an exercise of ^elf-will/ a free act.11 Being, at least in its
particular and existential aspects, if not in its eidetic character, is still
conceived as activity and life.
In the 1809 Philosophical Investigations of the Nature of Hu­
man Freedom Schelling clearly returned to the pragmatic or spirit­
centered standpoint of the System. He now interprets all being, in its
objective aspects as well as its subjective ones, through categories of
willing. He outlines the construction of a total system of philosophy,
ranging from a theory of nature to a philosophy of history, upon the
complex interplay of dependence and independence in human freedom
and upon the moral, social and historical decisiveness of action. “Pri・
mordial being is will/* maintains Schelling/2 and, in a deliberately
anthropomorphic move, he identifies this primal will with the human
exercise of will. Resorting to the theosophical myth of the Creation's
inherence in a cosmic Adam, Schelling paradoxically makes beings
articulation in cosmogony, its stabilization in nature, and its eventual
fulfilment in history the consequences of the emergence of finite
spirit. All being bears the stamp of the decisiveness first

l0The Presentation of My Oivn System t 1801.

nSee the dialogue Bruno (1802) and Philosophy and Religion (1804).
12Heidegger has called this statement the turning point in mcxiern
metaphysics. See What Is Called Thinking? tr. Wieck and Gray (Harper &
Row, 1968), pp. 90-91. See also Schellings Abhandlung uber das Wesen der
menschlichen Freiheit (Tubingen, 1971), pp. 114-20.
XX System of Transcendental Idealism

attained by human freedom in the creation of value, in the fashioning

of good and evil. A comment in the System evokes the kernel of the
1809 essay, where Schelling suggests that the complex finitude of hu­
man consciousness—involving a possible predetermination of the
freely determined, the limitation of freedom due to individuality, and
the influence of other intellects—is thinkable only in terms of an origi­
nal act of freedom, an act originative of ontological as well as moral
definiteness, determinative of character as well as individuality.13
Nor was Schelling's interest in the sovereignty of freedom ex­
hausted in the 1809 essay. All of his later work, from the 1815 Ages of
the World to the lectures on mythology and religion of the 1840s and
*508, show Schelling in search of a principle of freedom and actuality
not confined to and determined by reality as merely conceived. Free­
dom must be more than the activity postulated by philosophical
thought behind the world as presented and experienced. It must be
more than a concept in the domain of the possible, more than the re­
sult of thought dialectically playing through all the possible. It must
be the origin, the principle of existence and actuality. Freedom is the
place where thought (as an interplay of concepts) leaves off and reality
begins. The complete system of philosophy, as conceived by the late
Schelling, faces a double task~starting from the conceptual, to attain
to freedom and, within thought, to give birth to the actual and living
subject; then, from the side of existence, to trace its course empirically
through history.
In all the phases of his long career, freedom is one of Schelling*s
crucial and operative concepts. It is prior to all categories, beyond the
play of the possible which is the proper concern of metaphysics or
theoretical philosophy—the one reality beyond concepts, beyond nam­
ing, the touchstone by which to judge the rest of the vision of the uni­
verse that a philosophy projects. We know it, as Fichte said, because
we are it, we do it.14 The actual takes precedence over the possible,
the practical over the theoretical—not from any conceptual reason or
ground, but from our existence as spirit.
System and Facticity
The System of Transcendental Idealism is above all a system, an
ordering will toward a comprehensive knowledge. Its single goal, says
Schelling, is to discover a system in human knowledge, to determine
the principle whereby all individual knowing is determined (p. 18).
Now it was Kant who first brought to light the systematic
character of reason and, within the very
13 See p. 193 below.
l4"First Introduction to the Science of Knowledge/ section 1; "Second
Introduction/ sections 3 and 4, op. c".
 Introduction xxi

discussion of the generally misleading character of reason as a faculty

of ideas, underlined its legitimacy. In addition to its function of unify­
ing experiential concepts into pure concepts or ideas, reason pursues
an “ideal:” It elaborates a complete system of all possible predicates,
ranged in antithetical pairs, and attempts the complete determination
of any being which is its object by assigning one member of every pair
to it.16 Every concrete predication logically presumes this total field of
predicates; conversely the system of predicates presumes the complete
determinacy of every object. Now Kant thinks such a systematic
elaboration of transcendental logic both a necessary and a valid proce­
dure. Reason can err only in hypostatizing this ideal, in using it to
form the idea of an absolutely determined object which embraces the
whole field of predicates, that is to say, God. Later in the First Cri­
tique Kant revises his estimate of the legitimacy of the notion of sys­
tem. Rather than perceiving it as proceeding to an unwarranted
hypostatization in the idea an absolute object, he sees it as the defin­
ing and guiding ideal of philosophy. Under this ideal philosophy seeks
to combine all systems of knowledge, i.e., all sciences, into one “system
of human thought.**16
Fichte and Schelling indeed set out to regularize and system­
atize the Kantian philosophy, not merely in the sense of bringing the
multiplicity of texts (and of philosophical perspectives too) to some
unity, but in the sense of pursuing this ideal of reason. Reason—the
self as autonomous in the practical sphere, if not in the cognitive—
must see itself reflected in the totality of worldly being, must grasp the
sum of its self-determinations as the comprehensive specification of
the natural and intersubjective worlds* objectivity. It is this total re­
flexivity of reason that Fichte stipulates as the heart of transcendental
idealism:
So what then, in a couple of words, is the import of the Sci­
ence of Knowledge? It is this: reason is absolutely indepen­
dent; it exists only for itself; but for it, too, it is all that exists.
So that eveiything that it is must be founded in itself and ex­
plained solely from itself, and not from anything outside
it....17
Reason is in essence systematic, an ordering and patterning will to
know, a will to discover itself in the known.18

^Critique of Pure Reason t A568-583, B596-611.

^Critique of Pure Reason, A832-839, B860-867.
l7HSecond Introduction to the Science of Knowledge," op. ciLt p. 48.
lftSee Martin Heidegger, Schellings Abhandlung uber das Wesen der
menschlichen Freiheitt op. cit.t pp. 31-41.
xxn System of Transcendental Idealism

Schelling initiated his reflections on the possibility of a system of

philosophy in his first philosophical essay, written in 1794. Looking
into the Kantian notion of system, he sees that system means not only
the reduction of a multiplicity to a unity―as in Kant's categories of the
understanding, which are all specifications of the one primary concept,
relation—but implies a reciprocity of form and content as well. A sys­
tem is an organism, as it were, in which content and form, subject-mat­
ter and methodology, cannot be arbitrarily isolated, but reflect into one
another. This organic reciprocity is the hallmark of scientific form.
The notion of system becomes doubly important in the System of
Transcendental Idealism^ for the work, unconsciously documenting
Schelling*s move from Fichtean idealism to the **ideaI-realismM of the
Identity System, has two distinct senses of system in play: (1) The ob­
vious one, inherited from Fichte, of an immanent unification of human
knowledge under its principle or guiding process, viz., reflexive self-re­
lation; but (2) system also in the sense of a comprehensive science, a to­
tal philosophy comprehending all the different possible perspectives
upon reality. System in the second sense comprehends and includes the
first, which, limited as it is to the immanent standpoint, is only one
portion of the total account. This latter (at least as described, problem­
atically and programmatically, in the System) parallels the transcen­
dental system with a co-equal system of natural science, a philosophy
of nature, and contemplates joining the two through a transcendental
logic, a metaphysical theory of identity and difference.19
This duality in working notions of system riddles the whole work
and introduces a degree of internal inconsistency. Despite its massive­
ness and its detail, the System counts as a transitional work in
Schellings own philosophical development, an entr'acte between the
Philosophy of Nature of 1797-1799 and the Identity System of 1801 and
thereafter.
The Foreword and Introduction of the System essentially look
back to the philosophy of nature. They point out the necessary but
complementary opposition between nature-philosophy and transcen­
dental idealism, and suggest that philosophy can complete its one task,
the exhibition of the work of absolute consciousness, only in a double
manner—in paralleling a realism to an idealism, and demonstrating
their identical principle. The system-principle these sections suggest
seems to be the polar nature of absolute consciousness, which attains
actualization in separate real and ideal orders, and thus makes nature
and spirit equally primary. They operate, in short, within

19The System recognizes and allows only an intuitive approach to this

transcendental logic of identity/difference, namely through the philosophy of
art.
 Introduction xxiii

the second and broader of the definitions of system distinguished

above.
The body of the System, comprising the general remarks on
transcendental philosophy and the theoretical and practical deduc­
tions, is solely a system of transcendental idealism. “My only con­
cern/* says Schelling, uis to bring system into my knowledge itself and
to seek within knowledge itself for that by which all individual know­
ing is determined** (p. 18). Here the system-principle is ua universal
mediating factor in our knowledge”(p. 15), a reconciliation of identical
(or analytic) and synthetic modes of thinking (pp. 22-24)~~intellectual
intuition. In this context intellectual intuition is not the immediate in­
tuition. In this context intellectual intuition is not the immediate as­
cent to the Absolute which it will be in the Identity-System, the holis­
tic grasp of the totality. Here in the System* intellectual intuition is
the mode of being of the self, of the totality of the known and knowing;
the self is said to be intellectual intuition subsistent (pp. 27-28). But
precisely as an intuition, this intellectual intuition is insufficiently
self-reflexive to be both immediate and total, and thus is from the first,
and irrevocably so, sundered into unconscious production and con­
scious intuition. It seems a paradoxical play of words (and perhaps
Schelling*s language here is careless and uncommunicative), but intel­
lectual intuition is an unconscious principle of consciousness; our
awareness is always an intuition directed back upon a production) i.e.
upon a production-intuition, an activity become objectified. In the
transcendental system proper, up to the point in the history of con­
sciousness where practical philosophy dissolves into the action of his­
tory, no totalization of intuition is possible. Intellectual intuition can­
not be realized except as process, as the ongoing flux of our
experiencings. Transcendental philosophy cannot ascend to the Abso­
lute Identity as such. The absolute synthesis, the reconciliation of
freedom and necessity, lies outside its domain: Schelling can mention
it at the conclusion of the practical philosophy only as a regulative
idea, in the strict Kantian sense of the term. For transcendental ideal­
ism at least, <(the opposition between conscious and unconscious activ­
ity is necessarily an unending one** (p. 210), As in Fichte*s Science of
Knowledge^ an absolute consciousness, a totalization of intellectual in­
tuition, is postulated as an origin and principle of system, but is un­
reachable as a result. Fichte himself explained the incongruity of
principle and of result, the abiding difference between pure self-posit­
ing and lived synthesis, in this fashion.
The form of the system is based on the highest synthesis [of
self and not-self, of conscious and unconscious activity];
that there should be
xxii System of Transcendental Idealism

Schelling initiated his reflections on the possibility of a system of

philosophy in his first philosophical essay, written in 1794. Looking
into the Kantian notion of system, he sees that system means not only
the reduction of a multiplicity to a unity—as in Kanfs categories of the
understanding, which are all specifications of the one primary concept,
relation—but implies a reciprocity of form and content as well. A sys­
tem is an organism, as it were, in which content and form, subject-mat­
ter and methodology, cannot be arbitrarily isolated, but reflect into one
another. This organic reciprocity is the hallmark of scientific form.
The notion of system becomes doubly important in the System of
Transcendental Idealism, for the work, unconsciously documenting
Schelling's move from Fichtean idealism to the Hideal-realismM of the
Identity System, has two distinct senses of system in play: (1) The ob­
vious one, inherited from Fichte, of an immanent unification of human
knowledge under its principle or guiding process, viz., reflexive self-re­
lation; but (2) system also in the sense of a comprehensive science, a to­
tal philosophy comprehending all the different possible perspectives
upon reality. System in the second sense comprehends and includes the
first, which, limited as it is to the immanent standpoint, is only one
portion of the total account. This latter (at least as described, problem­
atically and programmatically, in the System) parallels the transcen­
dental system with a co-equal system of natural science, a philosophy
of nature, and contemplates joining the two through a transcendental
logic, a metaphysical theory of identity and difference.19
This duality in working notions of system riddles the whole work
and introduces a degree of internal inconsistency. Despite its massive­
ness and its detail, the System counts as a transitional work in
Schelling's own philosophical development, an entr'acte between the
Philosophy of Nature of 1797-1799 and the Identity System of 1801 and
thereafter.
The Foreword and Introduction of the System essentially look
back to the philosophy of nature. They point out the necessary but
complementary opposition between nature-philosophy and transcen­
dental idealism, and suggest that philosophy can complete its one task,
the exhibition of the work of absolute consciousness, only in a double
manner—in paralleling a realism to an idealism, and demonstrating
their identical principle. The system-principle these sections suggest
seems to be the polar nature of absolute consciousness, which attains
actualization in separate real and ideal orders, and thus makes nature
and spirit equally primary. They operate, in short, within

19The System recognizes and allows only an intuitive approach to this

transcendental logic of identity/difference, namely through the philosophy of
art.
 Introduction xxiii

the second and broader of the definitions of system distinguished

above.
The body of the System, comprising the general remarks on
transcendental philosophy and the theoretical and practical deduc­
tions, is solely a system of transcendental idealism. “My only con­
cern/* says Schelling, uis to bring system into my knowledge itself and
to seek within knowledge itself for that by which all individual know­
ing is determined” (p. 18). Here the system-principle is “a universal
mediating factor in our knowledge" (p. 15), a reconciliation of identical
(or analytic) and synthetic modes of thinking (pp. 22-24)~intellectual
intuition. In this context intellectual intuition is not the immediate in­
tuition. In this context intellectual intuition is not the immediate as­
cent to the Absolute which it will be in the Identity-System, the holis­
tic grasp of the totality. Here in the System, intellectual intuition is
the mode of being of the self, of the totality of the known and knowing;
the self is said to be intellectual intuition subsistent (pp. 27-28). But
precisely as an intuition, this intellectual intuition is insufficiently
self-reflexive to be both immediate and total, and thus is from the first,
and irrevocably so, sundered into unconscious production and con­
scious intuition. It seems a paradoxical play of words (and perhaps
Schellings language here is careless and uncommunicative), but intel­
lectual intuition is an unconscious principle of consciousness; our
awareness is always an intuition directed back upon a production, i.e.
upon a production-intuition, an activity become objectified. In the
transcendental system proper, up to the point in the history of con­
sciousness where practical philosophy dissolves into the action of his­
tory, no totalization of intuition is possible. Intellectual intuition can­
not be realized except as process, as the ongoing flux of our
experiencings. Transcendental philosophy cannot ascend to the Abso­
lute Identity as such. The absolute synthesis, the reconciliation of
freedom and necessity, lies outside its domain: Schelling can mention
it at the conclusion of the practical philosophy only as a regulative
idea, in the strict Kantian sense of the term. For transcendental ideal­
ism at least, **the opposition between conscious and unconscious activ­
ity is necessarily an unending one”(p. 210), As in Fichte*s Science of
Knowledge, an absolute consciousness, a totalization of intellectual in­
tuition, is postulated as an origin and principle of system, but is un­
reachable as a result. Fichte himself explained the incongruity of
principle and of result, the abiding difference between pure self-posit­
ing and lived synthesis, in this fashion.
The form of the system is based on the highest synthesis [of
self and not-self, of conscious and unconscious activity];
that there should be
xxiv System of Transcendental Idealism

a system at all, on the absolute thesis [the self-positing of

the self, intellectual intuition].20
The system of transcendental idealism is a system of the forms Qi em­
pirical consciousness, whose principle or transcendental ground of ex­
planation is an absolute consciousness. The latter simply cannot ap­
pear as an item within the system; it stands behind it as a postulate.
Given Schelling's basic agreement, at least in the body of the
System, that absolute consciousness is ineffable, it is odd, and for his
future development, quite significant, that the work in conclusion
moves beyond the dialectic of empirical consciousness. At this point
Schelling advances a metaphysical appendix patterned on Kanfs Cri­
tique of Judgment. Teleological interpretations of natural phenomena
and aesthetic intuition are seen to be immediate and non-discursive
approaches to that Absolute Identity which is the ineffable origin and
unreachable goal of transcendental philosophy properly so called (viz.,
the system of human knowing). Schelling cautiously suggests that
philosophy as a systematic totality and a metascience can be com­
pleted, with a philosophy of art serving as an approach to a pure iden­
tity-theory. For art, as Schelling sees it, is a symbolic and necessarily
asymptotic approach to the Identity underlying all consciousness. The
work of art is a concrete intuition of identity-in-difference, of multiple
and inexhaustible meanings packed into one meaning; thus it accom­
plishes symbolically what philosophy attempts to do discursively—
present the totality, exhibit the Absolute. Art thus becomes the sole
concrete analogue of intellectual intuition, the one place where pro­
ducing and intuiting fully coincide. In this appendix, then, Schelling
returns to the second and broader of the definitions of system we dis­
tinguished. He makes obvious too his abandonment of the Fichtean
principle that there is no absolute consciousness outside of empirical
consciousness and vice versa,21 and in so doing displays a drift toward
an absolute and objective system of philosophy, a system again em­
bracing ontology and overstepping the critical-transcendental cautions
which would confine philosophy to a phenomenology of consciousness.
It is the destiny of Schelling*s whole sixty year long career in
philosophy, and in a certain sense its ruin, to again and again
confront this ideal of a systematic and properly scientific philosophy,
to put it under critical scrutiny, but ultimately to set it aside and re­
luctantly affirm the factual and discrete character of

^Science of Knowledge t p. 114.

21See The Science of Knowledge, pp. 108-9, 118.
 Introduction XXV

reality, its irreducible particularity and dispersion. Nietzsche once

suggested that it is characteristic of modernity that a thinker cannot
write the work, but must undertake an authorship and embrace in
perspective and in series that which defies total and direct statement.
It is the tension between the leading concepts of system and facticity
which inhabits all Schellings thought and which makes him such a
*modern,* and from the reader's point of view, protean and unsettled
thinker.
As Schelling begins consciously to approach the standpoint of an
absolute system of reason here in the System of Transcendsntal Ideal-
ism, we see the problem of the equivocal nature of the isolated indi­
vidual entity arise as well: If everything is most truly in reason (or in
the Absolute), how does it exist outside the totality of reason? And
whence comes the extra-systematic intelligibility of the particular
given in sensory experience?
In 1795 the young follower of Fichte had said that there can be
no leap from the absolute and systematic perspective to that of the in­
dividual existent, no deduction of the finite (S.W. I, 314).22 And yet he
sensed that the whole point of systematic philosophy is to subdue and,
as it were, domesticate the otherness that individuals exhibit in their
contingent and mutually external existence. Fichte before him had
pointed out that philosophy% business is to conceptualize otherness
and bring it within the ambit of the self, but the Science of Knowledge
is ample proof of the elusive and dialectical character of the undertak­
ing. There Fichte is forced to admit that the whole project seems con­
tradictory, almost unthinkable:
Hence if ever a difference was to enter the self there must
already have been a difference originally in the self as such;
and this difference, indeed, would have had to be grounded
in the absolute self as such.23
In the System we can already detect Schellings preoccupation
with the factual and discrete character of particulars and see the be­
ginnings of his tortuous, sometimes labored attempts to respect the
factual in its uncanny and pertinacious resistance to reason, and, at
the same time, to reduce the irreducibly singular to the formula and,
so quantified, to include it within the structured totality that reason
articulates. The dialectical, perhaps antithetical, purposes motivating
Schellingfs vision of systematic philosophy become more sharply out­
lined in the Identity-System, particularly after 1804.

^Even in the Identity-System he maintains that position, making the

finite particular an ultimate surd. Cf. S. W., VI, 38.
^Op. cit., p. 240.
XXVI System of Transcendental Idealism

The predominant tone of the Systemt however, is a differential respect

for the individual, a prizing of the concrete over the general, a cau­
tious realism. Many times over in the course of the deductions,
Schelling gives prominence to a real factor over an ideal one, adopts
idealism solely as a methodological stance and prefers an idealistically
motivated realism which preserves the phenomena in all their com­
plexity over any metaphysical idealism which would reduce and sim­
plify the richness of experience. For example, in the theoretical phi­
losophy he stresses the second limitation of the self, individuality, and
its experiential correlate, time, over the more general limitation to in­
tuiting intelligence and objectivity (pp. 116-17). Further he maintains
that everything is at once a priori and a posteriori} the distinction
holds only within philosophic reflection, and so all our knowledge is
empirical through and through (pp. 151-53). In the practical philoso­
phy he emphasizes that selfhood can be raised to consciousness only as
individual selfhood or will; thus the crucial limitation of the self is not
its restriction to intelligence, but the third and individuating limita­
tion which poses the will as specified prior to its willing, and posits the
self as opposed to and determined by the willing of other selves (pp.
165-69). It is in this third restrictedness, individuation, that the theo­
retical and practical philosophies find themselves united. For con­
sciousness, in its full concreteness, becomes possible only in simulta­
neously confronting a definite objective world and interacting with
other selves: “Only by the fact that there are intelligences outside me
[and thus that I am individual) does the world as such become objec­
tive to me”(p. 173). From this focal point the rest of the System's
meditations on the paradoxes of the concrete existence of spirit unfold,
viz., that choice, conditioned by natural inclination, is the only appear­
ance of freedom (p. 190); that history evidences the free performance of
an unconscious and involuntary necessity (pp. 203 f.); that the Abso­
lute itself, or Identity, must be considered equally as free and as neces­
sitated, equally as conscious activity and as unconscious (pp. 208-12).
Schelling the idealist shows himself everywhere prepared to turn
away from consciousness seeking to grasp itself in the full transpar­
ency of thought, and to recognize and respect instead the hard, resist­
ing, opaque and experientially locating features of reality. The
strange result: The idealist is forced to accord primacy to the uncon­
scious.
 Introduction xxvii

The Dominance of the Unconscious

The moment really characteristic of Schellings philosophizing in

the System of Transcendental Idealism》the moment most in continu­
ity with the rest of his thought, is his insistence upon the unconscious.
The principle of system is self-consciousness—or perhaps we might
better say, setting aside the contemporary connotation of reflexive self-
awareness t self-activity. The self qua system-principle, and not as the
delimited focus of empirical consciousness, is originally mere activity
(p. 36). It is infinitely non-objective, non-thing-like, for all things are
thoroughly conditioned) while the system-principle (reason demands)
is to be unconditioned. The self is thus pure inwardness (p. 26), a pro­
cess and only derivatively a being or a state of a being. It is a continu­
ing self-enactment which, while indeed it comes to light in self-aware­
ness, is not at all circumscribed by it. It is a performance not ex­
hausted in intuition, a continual energizing. The self―or, equiva­
lently, self-consciousness—is essentially self-constituting. Schelling
names this self-enactment intellectual intuition.
Intellectual intuition turns out to be a paradoxical concept. It is
not properly a cognitive state and thus bears no similarity to any intu­
ition given in empirical consciousness. It is not merely an activity of,
or a faculty in, the subject; it is the subject. The self is intellectual in­
tuition subsis tent; it exists by knowing itself in this non-objective man­
ner (p. 28). This 'special knowing/ therefore, is more than a mere
knowing. It is, as Kant first defined the term,24 an archetypal know­
ing, a knowing which constitutes as well as cognizes. Now an infinite
self or a God would transparently 'know' in this manner, but the self
which is the principle of the system of human consciousness is (as
Fichte had insisted from the first) an absolute consciousness inside hu­
man consciousness, and thus finite. Finitude means that intellectual
intuition is not unitary, immediate and fully self-reflected, that self­
consciousness is not pure self-awareness. The philosopher in his imi­
tation of intellectual intuition discovers a fragmented consciousness
which can be gathered back into itself only through mediation-
through experience, reflection, and finally systematic philosophy or its
surrogate, aesthetic intuition.
The 'special knowing/ then, which constitutes our
consciousness is at one and the same time a sundering of the selfs
activity into productive and intuitive facets or capacities, the
maintenance of this division as, in

z^See "On the Form of the Sensible and Intelligible Worlds and Their
Principles" (1770), paragraph 10.
xxviii System of Transcendental Idealism

principle, a polar opposition, and finally, within time, a stepwise

relativization of that opposition in the series of presentations. The
selfs being (or knowing, or activity) is the coming-to-be of a world for
it. Self-consciousness is thus (1) a steady, enduring juxtaposition of
conscious (intuiting) activities and unconscious (producing) ones, of ac­
tivities constitutive of subjective awareness and worldly objectivity re­
spectively; and (2) an ongoing translation from unconscious over to
conscious and properly intuiting activity. Since this self-constituting
and self-bifurcating self which is the postulate behind the system (pp.
28, 33) does not and cannot appear in empirical consciousness, and
since it enacts itself as production prior to and beyond the reach of
cognitive awareness, it is largely, in fact dominantly, unconscious,
Fichte, of course, set the terms of this comparison in the Sci­
ence of Knowledge, but he preferred not to stress, as Schelling does,
the absolute contrast between activity (almost by definition uncon­
scious) and awareness; instead he sought to interpose terms connoting
both affect and effect between the two—terms like striving and feel­
ingand thus to effect their mediation. In grounding selC-con-
sciousness in an opaque activity which is 'inward' only when inter­
nally directed and which, when directed outward, only realizes or pro­
duces but does not illuminate, Schelling abandons the old Cartesian
ideal of consciousness as complete self-transparency. Fichte had made
the same moves, to be sure, but he was reluctant to embrace to the full
the consequences of his introduction of finitude into the basic model of
consciousness. He transposed the absolute identity of the first ground­
principle, excluded from realization in empirical consciousness by the
mysterious persistence of the not-self, into a moral ideal. In his hands,
the failure of the “is" becomes the justification of the “ought：*25
Things are quite different with Schelling. There is a frank
recognition of the in principle unconscious nature of the activity of
self-constitution. It is significant that the ultimate ascent to the
Absolute which Schelling proposes in the System is neither cognitive
nor moral but aesthetic, that it is not an eidetic intuition of some
sort, nor an intimation of transcendent value, but a symbolic and
produced totality of subjective and objective elements residing in
the unconsciously produced work of art, which fully reveals the
nature of self-consciousness. “[Art] ever and again continues to
speak to us of what philosophy cannot depict in external form,
namely the unconscious element in acting and producing, and its
original identity with the conscious** (p. 231). Art,

^The Science of Knowledge ^ pp. 229-30*

 Introduction XXIX

thinks Schelling, divines the unconscious and active force behind

things and so has priority as a philosophical instrument over both em­
pirical consciousness and theoretical-reflective activity. The idealist of
1799 who speaks in terms of seIf-consciousness is really not far from
the chthonic and irrationalist philosopher of 1809 who was to say,
In the final and highest instance there is no other being
than Will. Will is primordial Being, and all predicates ap­
ply to it alone—groundlessness, eternity, independence of
time, self-affirmation. All philosophy strives only to find
this highest expression.26
In the System of Transcendental Idealism the unconscious func­
tions as a kind of absolute principle. It is the opaque knot of actuality
in the self, the productive or realizing intuition which opposes the
limitant activity (which is the selfs) to its properly intuitive activity
of cognition and keeps them thus tied together. But this productive
element remains hidden, unconscious, and its workings remain
forever enigmatic (pp. 78*9). Idealism, thinks Schelling, is forced to
admit such an unconscious production and actualization in spite of
its allegiance to self-consciousness. For it can in no wise explain the
distinction of inner and outer activity, i.e., of the experiential self
and the experienced 'thing； except by analogy to a kind of actualizing
intelligence which loses itself (and self-awareness) in its productions,
just as the inspired artist loses himself in his work (pp. 74-5). In
unconscious producing, real and ideal (i.e., object-constituting and
object-intuiting) activities are somehow one; when the cognizing self
arrives at awareness of the product, they will be differentiated, but
are as yet unseparated. Explanation must stop at this point, for phi­
losophy can only postulate this unconscious producing—the idealistic
counterpart of the Kantian ultimate ground of appearance, the thing-
in-itself~but cannot elucidate it. It cannot at all illuminate what it
must postulate as the basic fact of consciousness, Mthe infinite ten­
dency of the self to become an object for itself/* i.e., to bound its own
activity and subsequently to intuit its boundedness as objective, exist­
ing and external to itself. <(It is not the fact that I am determinately
limited which cannot be explained, but the manner of this limitation
itself* (p. 59). The manner of this limitation—the concretizing of the
selfs activity as objectivity which productive intuition effects—is as
paradoxical and inexplicable as the self itself: an identity which is

260f Human Freedom, tr. J. Gutmann (Chicago, 1936), p. 24; S. W., VII,
350.
XXX System of Transcendental Idealism

not an identity but a synthesis; a synthesis which is not one synthesis

but many syntheses packed into one; not a timeless and immediate
resolution of the infinite conflicts of its opposed inodes of activity, but
an indefinitely extended and ongoing partial solution (pp. 45-6, 50).
The self, which produces only in order to come to self-identity out of
antithetical opposition, can nonetheless produce only as conditioned by
this conflict (pp. 113-14). Like the mysterious and dark Indifference of
the Identity-System (an absolute identity somehow 'already' differen­
tiated) the self-consciousness which is the principle and subject of the
System has a paradoxical and dark side, a hidden ground which is in
feet its antitype. At the basis of self-consciousness itself is a knot of
pure fact, quite hidden from reason, viz., its origin in and ultimate de­
pendence upon unconscious activity.
It is this centrality of productive activity, and its irreducibly
unconscious character, that most illuminates the fatalism which lies
at the heart of Schelling's practical philosophy. Transcendental Ideal­
ism is a philosophy of praxis wherein activity everywhere predomi­
nates over being (or previously determined activity). Yet within the
system, Schelling curiously avows, the philosophy of action can only
show itself objectively; praxis can appear only as history, as an objec­
tive order of world-events, shaped and guided, perhaps, by some teleo­
logical impulse toward a universal world-order (p. 4). The subjective
and personal aspect of praxis cannot appear; the consciously guided
aspect of an individuafs activity, the element of personal freedom,
cannot appear as act, but only obliquely, as past deed.27 The sole effi­
cacious element in action, the sole objectivity, is an intuiting, and the
intuiting appears not as act, but as an intuited, an objective some­
thing. The causality of my will, so Schelling maintains, is consumed
and exhausted in the construction/intuition of an objective world;
there is no possibility of this world's alteration. Me act freely and
the world comes to exist independently of usM (p. 182). There is no
sense of freedom other than that self-determination whereby I know
(and determine the existence of) a world; there is no efficacious alter­
ing of reality other than my bringing it forth as a series of presenta­
tions and cognizing it. The self, which is will and act, is nothing
other than an act of knowing: 'The self exists only in that it appears
to itself; its knowing is a form of being** (p. 185). More than that,
knowing is its only conscious form of being; its originative (and cen­
tral) activity can be intuited only as past, as the objectivity of a thor­
oughly determined world. On the level of

^See the lengthy discussion pp. 177-88 below.

 Introduction xxxi

conscious awareness, there is such a thorough-going identity of acting

and intuiting that freedom itself is manifested only as a natural phe­
nomenon. Absolute freedom appears objectively only as natural incli­
nation (p. 186). This is a thoroughly deterministic reading of the hu­
man situation of action, one which excludes the notion of a personal
and voluntary participation in a moral order. The System's analysis of
the ethical situation explains all ethics away, inasmuch as it makes
the moral law a subjective necessity (the purely personal ideal of total
self-determination) posed over and against the objective necessity of
inclination. The only place, consequently, where practical activity can
appear as action rather than as response to determination is in the ar­
bitrary choice, which is said to reconcile the conflicting subjective and
objective demands (p. 190). There is none of the Kantian exaltation of
the moral sphere here, despite the Kantian language the analysis em­
ploys. Schelling's intent is to move beyond the ethical, toward the glo­
bal and objective order of the selfs action in history. Only insofar as
the active self or will appears, only insofar as it pertains to the world
of phenomena, as it is conditioned in and by empirical consciousness,
can it be said to be free; *the will itself transcends freedom** (p. 191).
An analysis of history similarly deterministic — wherein events
are patterned by the emergence of a drive toward world polity, a drive
which in part steins from human cooperation but is in part impelled
and necessitated by a higher providential source~moves Schelling to
adopt the notion of a hidden Absolute, an Identity behind all conscious
exercise of will which is the conciliation of the highest paradox, the ap­
parent opposition of freedom and lawfulness. The contradictions be­
tween freedom and determinism, between the self as intelligence and
the self as will, cannot be solved on the conscious level; an ultimate
synthesis is called for, beyond all consciousness:
Such a pre-established harmony of the objective (or law-
governed) and the determinant (or free) is conceivable only
through some higher thing, set over them both, and which
is therefore neither intelligence nor free, but rather is the
common source of the intelligent and likewise of the free.
(P. 208)
Ultimately consciousness is put to one side and made synony­
mous with appearance, while the hidden Absolute is identified with
the irreducibly unconscious element in self-consciousness and with the
essential and indissoluble tension between the conscious and the un­
conscious. The unconscious as determinant activity becomes the
ground of consciousness and of freedom, a ground never wholly to be
clariHed and translated into the light of consciousness.
xxxii System of Transcendental Idealism

A thorough-going determinism pervades the whole realm of conscious­

ness and freedom becomes mere appearance.28
The opposition between conscious and unconscious activity is
necessarily an unending one, for were it ever to be done away
with, the appearance of freedom, which rests entirely upon it,
would be done away with too. (P. 210)

Radical Finitude, Time and History

In the name of freedom or activity as such, freedom of act is abro­

gated; on the principle of self-consciousness, individual consciousness is
reduced to unconscious activity—the System either veers into inconsis­
tency and paradox of an amateurish sort, or, more probably, points to an
essential paradox deep in the heart of its subject-matter, human con­
sciousness. Fichte had grappled with the same paradox in a schematic
fashion and concluded that it is at very least odd for consciousness to be
sovereignly independent and yet finite. Schelling, we suggest, under­
takes a more detailed analysis of the Hnitude of consciousness, and,
child of the Enlightenment though he is, comes closer to voicing the
radically finite nature of human consciousness, and the precarious na­
ture of man's career as finite spirit, than ever his predecessor did.
In Schelling's insistence upon the unconscious nature of the selfs
activity lies an essential ambiguity which he senses, but cannot properly
articulate or conceptually resolve. The realm of unconscious activity is
equated with the transcendent principle, with an Absolute Identity,
which is said to ground all consciousness and selfhood, but which is
nonetheless “divided in the first act of consciousnessM (p. 209). Is not the
classical notion of transcendence relativized in this equation, a notion to
which Schelling seems to adhere, especially in his talk of system and the
system-principle? A principle behind, perhaps beneath, consciousness is
made a principle over consciousness—in a philosophy that is nothing
other than a system of human knowledge.
Schelling cautions us, indeed, that questions about this
Identity prior to consciousness, prior to the dialectic of conscious and
unconscious activity, are ill-formed and inappropriate, ufbr it is that
which can only reveal itself through self-consciousness, and cannot
anywhere part company from this act** (p. 234). Nonetheless in the
historical perspective, questions do arise about the character of its
transcendence, the status of its
24The freedom, then, which is all that supports this system of human
consciousness and is its foundation (p. 35), turns out to be a purely formal free­
dom, synonymous with activity-as-such. It nowhere partakes of the attributes
of conscious awareness and decision which, as Schelling realized in 1809 and
thereafter, constitute human freedom.
 Introduction xxxiii

relative consciousness/unconsciousness: Is it beyond consciousness,

like a Platonic form, or beneath consciousness like Schopenhauer^ pri­
mal will? Is its ineffability due to a surpassing character or to a priva­
tive one? It is indeed not clear from the whole of the System whether
we are dealing here with a spiritual transcendence, a principle the
classical traditions would name a cause of knowing and being known,
or with a dark and essentially mute ground of activity or being, a
ground only peripherally and fleetingly revealed in conscious aware­
ness.29
Schelling seems midway between a classiflcal philosophy of
transcendence as seen in Plotinus or Spinoza where ultimate produc­
tive agency is indeed unconscious but unconscious in the manner of
pre-eminent and transfinite mentality, and the kind of material tran­
scendence of Will or Being over its finite forms, voiced by
Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, and in our day Heidegger. His Unconscious
activity** is certainly not the intra-psychic and individual dynamism of
conflict that Nietzsche and Freud were to describe, the source of re­
pression, guilt or the life-poisoning 'iancor against time.** But by the
same token it is not the conflict-free and benign principle of
Neoplatonic emanation, nor a placid substance beyond knowledge, a
resting and complete source of being such as Spinoza describes. It is
an activity and a principle of activity. It is in conflict with itself at
least potentially, so that its life can be spoken of as the unfolding of
the infinite contradictions implicit within it. Schelling describes it as
an act which is an infinity of actions, an absolute self-consciousness
never realized definitively and exhaustively in any conscious aware­
ness, but rather the life and source of the whole system of finitude (pp.
49-50). It is a will which realizes itself only in the dialectic of the con­
scious and the unconscious, a self-flnitizing infinity.
In the System^ notion of self-consciousness, therefore, we have
a transcendent principle curiously transformed and altered. In its
very self or its transcendent aspect, absolute se 1 f-consciousness or
Identity is wholly ineffable. The mechanism explanatory of all other
intuitions, the principle of the graduated sequence of intuitions which
collectively form the system, remains obscure and unilluminated. We
do not see how the principle of the system of human knowledge is an
act of knowledge—unless, as Schelling variously suggests, we have a
vague adumbration of it as a genus or a type gathered from the

29A crucial feature of Schelling*s later metaphysics, begun with Of Hu­

man Freedom (1809) and Ages of the World (1815), is the distinction of two
types of causality, the active causality of freedom or decisive will and the kind
of material-temporal priority of antecedent over consequent which Schelling
calls grounding.
XXXIV System of Transcendental Idealism

total survey of its instances, in nature as well as in spirit (pp. 2-3), or

else fashion some kind of analogy between this supremely active and
creative cognition and the fashioning cognition of the artist lost in his
work (pp. 75, 230). We can know and recognize some kind of absolute
consciousness only in (or in between) the finite forms of consciousness
and the succession of those forms. And what we recognize, in fact, is
that there must be something like an absolute consciousness, i.e. we
know it as a postulate.
Schelling propounds a radically finite model of consciousness
and (both in the spirit of Kant and on the model of the fragmentary
system of reason suggested by the three Critiques) limits philosophical
recognition to the finite modes of knowledge, taken singly and in the
contingency of their succession in the **history of consciousness/1 Be­
fore him, Fichte had searched for an absolute consciousness inside em­
pirical consciousness and for some kind of privileged access to it,
whereby the heteronomy both of willing and of knowing would be ab­
rogated, and consciousness accede to total self-coincidence; The Sci­
ence of Knowledge documents the ardor of his search, and its futility.
Hegel was again to take up the task in the Phenomenology of Spirit t
and with success, for in his stipulation that the principle of conscious­
ness as such is a self-negating, finitizing return to self, rather than the
Fichtean identity of self-coincidence (I = I), he marries absolute
consciousness and finite consciousness—and provides a principle for
the succession of its forms, a formula for their flow and transition, a
matrix for their generation. It is this step, the transempirical formula­
tion of a principle for the finitude of consciousness and for the succes­
sion of its forms, that the System lacks—or that it only programmati­
cally adumbrates. The System's self-consciousness is a plastic, flowing
source of our knowledge and its indwelling realization, but it escapes
formula, and thus transcends the realm of the intelligible and the ex­
pressible. Lacking the self-negation and self-return that Hegel finally
ascribes to consciousness, Schelling's self-consciousness remains a
principle of activity but not of knowledge. His self enacts the whole
succession of finite, empirical forms of subjectivity and objectivity
without fully returning to itself, without definitively knowing itself.
Spirit—as Schelling was obliged to conceive it from the basically
Fichtean standpoint of 1799does not return to itself. Indeed, as he
himself says,
What we speak of as nature is a poem lying pent in a myste­
rious and wonderful script. Yet the riddle could reveal itself,
were we to recognize in it the odyssey of the spirit, which,
 Introduction XXXV

marvellously deluded, seeks itself^ and in seeking flies from

itself. (P. 232)
Yet the spirit remained deluded, locked in the forms of finitude. In its
alienation, in its inexplicable odyssey of self-objectification (p. 59), it
can never find rest and full return.
The self-consciousness of the System, then, is a finitized tran­
scendence, a real and basically unspiritual activity and source of real­
ization such as Schelling was to later conceive under the names
'ground' and *unground/ a restless, irresistible and infra-intelligible
energization such as Schopenhauer and Nietzsche were subsequently
to describe.30 Its life is essentially succession—productivity splayed
forth as time or the alteration of matter in nature, and as social move­
ment and political deed in history—change whose ultimate rational
shape or purpose is, if admitted at all, said to be merely postulatory.
Unlike the fully self-transparent Reason of the System of Identity and
the Absolute Subject of HegePs system, both of which live in a kind of
eternity—the eternity of movement completed, reality fully compre­
hended and rationalized—the self-consciousness of the System of
Transcendental Idealism is bound to time. The subject of the
Hegelian system can be said to be fully itself while it is coming to it­
self, it lives its life as a play in and among appearances. Schelling*s
self-consciousness, however, is a principle never fully itself^ never be­
ing but only becoming, essentially dependent upon appearances and
the continued succession of appearances. For the author of the Sys­
tem t the selfs life is time, and not a mathematicized interplay of ei­
detic shapes within time. The finite endures and resists inclusion
within any arbitrary totalization. The odyssey of consciousness ends,
not with any grand rationalization of the universe nor with the transi­
tion to any timeless and final logical language underpinning all, but
with a recognition of the finite and fragmented textures of empirical
reality and the multiplicity of its partial intelligible schemata.
We are left with a history which equally shows flashes of sense­
lessness and rationality (world political organization), whose goal and
purpose cannot finally be decided, and whose paradoxical mixture of
voluntary cooperation and external determination even philosophy
cannot sort out. We are left with a philosophy insufficiently aware of
its principle to determine its own methodology, with a philosophy lack­
ing intellectual intuition and depending instead upon the surrogate of
aesthetic intuition. We are left finally, not with a monolithic system of
human knowings, but with a multiplicity of intellectual approaches, a
multiplicity of natural languages.

^See Of Human Freedom and Ages of the World,

xxxvi System of Transcendental Idealism

Science, art and philosophy remain sundered, and so the goal of fash*
ioning one comprehensive metascience is not accomplished. But the
solution Schelling envisages to this scandal of plurality is not to reduce
and simplify. The System has accomplished all that a general and ab­
stractive approach can do. What is needful now, says Schelling, is a
turn to the concrete, the fabrication of a “new mythology/*31 the inte­
gration of the particularistic 'knowing* of the arts with the conceptual
generality of the sciences—a task not to be accomplished in thought
alone, or by the philosopher in isolation, but one to be worked out by a
unew race, personifying, as it were, one single poet," an accomplish­
ment of history, not of thought alone (p. 233)产

M.G.V.

31A myth or its subject, the god or hero, plays the role of a concrete uni­
versal for Schelling. Concepts indicate with empty generality, but symbolic
forms with absolute specificity. A myth is its meaning, and all science aspires
to that exactitude. See The Philosophy of Art, S. W., V, 407-11.
32The remark has political overtones. The *new mythology* might well
be the ideology of the Republican polity. Compare Schiller's Letters on the
Aesthetic Education of Man.
 GLOSSARY

Anschauen, -d, -ung Intuit, intuitant, intuition

Aufheben Annul, cancel, eliminate
Bedingen, -ung Condition
Bestimmen, -ung Determine, define, determination
Beziehen, -ung Relate, relation
Einbilden Imagine
Einwirken, -ung Influence, operate on, operation
Empfinden, -ung Feel, feeling, sensation
Entgegensetzen Oppose, counterposit
Gegensatz Opposite, contrary, opposition
Gegenstand Object
Grenze, Begrenztheit Limit, boundary, limitation
Handeln, Handlung Act
Hervorbringen Bring forth, engender
Ich Self, I
Intelligenz Intelligence
Leiden Passivity
Potenz Power (mathematical sense)
Produzieren, Produkt Produce, producing, product
Rich tung Direction
Schranke, Beschranktheit Restriction, confinement,
restrictedness
Schweben Waver, oscillate
Streben Strive, striving
Tatigkeit Activity
Tauschung Deception, illusion
Trieb Drive
Unendlichkeit Infinity
Vermitteln, -ung Mediate, mediation
Vorstellen, -ung Present, presentation, idea
Vorurteil Prejudice
Wechselbestimmung Interdetermination
Wechselwirkung Interaction, reciprocity
Willkiir Choice
Zuruckgehen Revert
Zweck, -massig Purpose, purposive
System of Transcendental Idealism
(1800)
 FOREWORD

That a system which completely alters and even overthrows the whole
view of things prevailing, not merely in common life, but also in the
greater part of the sciences, should encounter, despite the rigorous
demonstration of its principles, a continuing opposition even among
those in a position to feel or really to discern the force of its argu­
ments, is a circumstance that can be due only to an incapacity for ab­
stracting from the multitude of individual problems, which, on such an
altered view, the busy imagination at once conjures up from the whole
wealth of experience, so that the judgment is in consequence dis­
tracted and disturbed. We cannot deny the strength of the arguments,
nor do we know of anything certain and assured to put in place of the
principles; but we are afraid of the supposedly monstrous conse­
quences that are foreseen to follow from them, and despair of resolving
all those difTiculties which the principles, in their application, must in­
evitably encounter. Nevertheless one may legitimately demand of
anyone who takes any part whatever in philosophical enquiries, that
he be capable of this abstraction, and know how to grasp the principles
in the highest degree of generality, wherein details disappear entirely,
and wherein, if it be only the highest, the solution of all possible prob­
lems is assuredly also contained in advance; and it is therefore natural
that in first setting up the system, all enquiries descending into detail
should be set aside, and only the first thing needful be done, namely to
bring the principles into the open, and to put them beyond all doubt.
And by this, indeed, such a system finds the surest touchstone of its
truth, that it not only provides a ready solution to problems hitherto
insoluble, but actually generates entirely new problems, never before
considered, and by a general shattering of received opinion gives rise
to a new sort of truth. But this is precisely characteristic of transcen­
dental idealism, that as soon as it is once admitted, it puts us under
the necessity of generating knowledge afresh, as it were, of once more
putting to the test what has long since passed as established truth,
and, assuming that it stands the test, of at least compelling it to
emerge therefrom in a wholly novel shape and form.
Now the purpose of the present work is simply this, to enlarge
transcendental idealism into what it really should be, namely a
system of all knowledge. The aim, then, is to provide proof of the
system, not merely in general, but in actual fact, that is, through
the real extension of its principles to all possible problems in regard
to the main objects of knowledge, whether these
2 System of Transcendental Idealism [III, 330-31]

have already been raised earlier, but not resolved, or have only now
been rendered possible and have newly come into existence through
the system itself. It follows accordingly that this work must treat of
topics and questions that have simply never been agitated or artic­
ulated among a great many of those who now presume nonetheless
to have an opinion in philosophical matters; inasmuch as they still
halt at the first rudiments of the system, and cannot get beyond them,
either because of an initial incapacity even to understand what the
first principles of all knowledge require, or because of prejudice, or
for whatever other reason. Now although the enquiry does of course
revert to elementary first principles, the above class of persons has
little to hope for from the present work, since in regard to basic enqui­
ries nothing can be found herein that has not already been said long
since, either in the writings of the originator of the Science of Knowl­
edge, or in those of the present author; save that in the present
treatment, the exposition in regard to certain points may perhaps
have achieved a greater clarity than it previously possessed—though
even this can never, at any rate, make up for a fundamental want of
understanding. The means, furthermore, whereby the author has
sought to achieve his aim of setting forth idealism in its full extent,
consist in presenting every part of philosophy in a single continuum,
and the whole of philosophy as what in fact it is, namely a progressive
history of self-consciousness, for which what is laid down in experience
serves merely, so to speak, as a memorial and a document. In order
to trace this history with precision and completeness, it was chiefly a
matter, not only of separating exactly the individual stages thereof,
and within these again the individual moments, but also of presenting
them in a sequence, whereby one can be certain, thanks to the very
method employed in its discovery, that no necessary intervening step
has been omitted; the result being to confer upon the whole an inter­
nal coherence which time cannot touch, and which in all subsequent
development remains, as it were, the unalterable framework, to
which everything must be related. The author's chief motive for
devoting particular care to the depiction of this coherence, which is
really a graduated sequence of intuitions, whereby the self raises
itself to the highest power of consciousness, was the parallelism of
nature with intelligence; to this he has long since been led, and to
depict it completely, neither transcendental philosophy nor the phi­
losophy of nature is adequate by itself; both sciences together are
alone able to do it, though on that very account the two must forever
be opposed to one another, and can never merge into one. The
conclusive proof of the perfectly equal reality of
[331-32] Foreword 3

the two sciences from a theoretical standpoint, which the author has
hitherto merely asserted, is thus to be sought in transcendental phi­
losophy, and especially in that presentation of it which is contained in
the present work; and the latter must therefore be considered as a nec­
essary counterpart to his writings on the philosophy of nature. For in
this work it will become apparent, that the same powers of intuition
which reside in the self can also be exhibited up to a certain point in
nature; and, since the boundary in question is itself that of theoretical
and practical philosophy, that it is therefore indifferent, from a purely
theoretical standpoint, whether objective or subjective be made pri­
mary, since this is a matter that practical philosophy (though it has no
voice at all in this connection) is alone able to decide; whence it will
also appear that even idealism has no purely theoretical basis, and to
that extent, if theoretical evidence alone be accepted, can never have
the evidential cogency of which natural science is capable, whose basis
and proof alike are theoretical through and through. Readers ac­
quainted with the philosophy of nature will, indeed, conclude from
these observations, that there is a reason, lying pretty deep in the sub­
ject itself, why the author has opposed this science to transcendental
philosophy and completely separated it therefrom, whereas, to be sure,
if our whole enterprise were merely that of explaining nature, we
should never have been driven into idealism.
But now as to the deductions which are effected in the present
work from the primary objects of nature, from matter as such and its
general functions, from the organism, etc., there are certainly idealis­
tic, though not on that account teleological derivations (albeit many re­
gard them as equivalent), which are as little capable of giving satisfac­
tion in idealism as in any other system. For supposing I prove, for ex­
ample, that it is necessary for the sake of freedom, or for practical pur­
poses, that there should be matter having such and such properties, or
that the intellect intuit its dealings with the external world as medi­
ated through an organism, this demonstration continues to leave un­
answered for me the question as to how and by what mechanism the
intellect actually intuits precisely that which is necessary for this pur­
pose. On the contrary, all proofs that the idealist offers for the exist­
ence of determinate external things must be derived from the primor­
dial mechanism of intuition itself, that is, by a genuine construction of
objects. Since the proofs are idealistic, the merely teleological applica­
tion of them would not in fact advance true knowledge a single step,
since notoriously the teleological explanation of an object can teach
4 System of Transcendental Idealism [333-34]

me nothing whatever as to its real origin.

In a system of transcendental idealism as such, the truths of
practical philosophy can themselves emerge only as intervening links,
and that part of practical philosophy actually pertaining to the system
consists only of what is objective therein, and this, in its broadest gen­
erality, is history; a topic that, in a system of idealism, requires to be
deduced transcendentally no less than does the objective of first order,
namely nature. This deduction of history leads directly to the proof
that what we have to regard as the ultimate ground of harmony be­
tween the subjective and the objective in action must in fact be con­
ceived as an absolute identity; though to think of this latter as a sub­
stantial or personal entity would in no way be better than to posit it in
a pure abstraction—an opinion that could be imputed to idealism only
through the grossest of misunderstandings.
So far as concerns the basic principles of teleologyt the reader
will doubtless recognize for himself that they point to the only way of
explaining the coexistence of mechanism with purposiveness in nature
in an intelligible manner. —And finally, with reference to the precepts
concerning the philosophy of art, whereby the whole is concluded, the
author begs those who may have some special interest in this subject
to remember that the whole enquiry, which considered in itself is an
infinite one, is here instituted merely in regard to the system of phi­
losophy, whereby a multitude of aspects of this immense topic has had
to be excluded from consideration in advance.
The author observes in conclusion that one of his subsidiary
aims has been to provide an account of transcendental idealism that
shall be, so far as possible, generally readable and intelligible; and
that the possibility of some success in this, in virtue of the very
method that he has chosen, is something of which he is already con­
vinced by a twofold experience in publicly presenting the system.
This brief foreword will be sufficient, nonetheless, to arouse
some interest in the book among those who share the author's stand­
point and seek with him a solution of the same problems, and to at­
tract those who wish for information and instruction; while those who
are neither acquainted with the one, nor genuinely desirous of the
other, will be scared away from it at the outset; and all its objects will
be thereby achieved.

Jena, End of March, 1800

 INTRODUCTION

§1 Concept of Transcendental Philosophy

1. All knowledge is founded upon the coincidence of an objective

with a subjective. —For we know only what is true; but truth is gener­
ally taken to consist in the coincidence of presentations with their ob­
jects.
2. The intrinsic notion of everything merely objective in our
knowledge, we may speak of as nature. The notion of everything sub­
jective is called, on the contrary, the self〉or the intelligence. The two
concepts are mutually opposed. The intelligence is initially conceived
of as the purely presentative, nature purely as what can be presented;
the one as the conscious, the other as the nonconscious. But now in
every knowing a reciprocal concurrence of the two (the conscious and
the intrinsically nonconscious) is necessary; the problem is to explain
this concurrence.
3. In knowing as such—in the fact 0fmy knowing—objective
and subjective are so united that one cannot say which of the two has
priority. Here there is no first and second; both are simultaneous and
one. —Insofar as I wish to explain this identity, I must already have
done away with it. To explain it, inasmuch as nothing else is given me
(as explanatory principle) beyond these two factors of knowledge, I
must necessarily give priority to one over the other, set out from the
one, in order thence to arrive at the other; from which of the two I
start, the problem does not specify.
4. Hence there are only two possibilities.
A. Either the objective is made primary9 and the question is:
how a subjective is annexed thereto, which coincides with 让？
The concept of the subjective is not contained in that of the ob­
jective; on the contrary, they exclude one another. The subjective
must therefore be annexed to the objective. —The concept of nature
does not entail that there should also be an intelligence that is aware
of it. Nature, it seems, would exist, even if there were nothing that
was aware of it. Hence the problem can also be formulated thus: how
does intelligence come to be added to nature, or how does nature come
to be presented?
The problem assumes nature or the objective to be primary.
Hence the problem is undoubtedly that of natural science, which does
just this. —That natural science in fact—and without knowing it—at
least comes close to the solution of this problem can be shown only
briefly here.
6 System of Transcendental Idealism [340-41]

If all knowing has, as it were, two poles, which mutually presup­

pose and demand one another, they must seek each other in all the sci­
ences; hence there must necessarily be two basic sciences, and it must
be impossible to set out from the one pole without being driven toward
the other. The necessary tendency of all natural science is thus to
move from nature to intelligence. This and nothing else is at the bot­
tom of the urge to bring theory into the phenomena of nature. ―The
highest consummation of natural science would be the complete spiri­
tualizing of all natural laws into laws of intuition and thought. The
phenomena (the matter) must wholly disappear, and only the laws
(the form) remain. Hence it is, that the more lawfulness emerges in
nature itself, the more the husk disappears, the phenomena them­
selves become more mental, and at length vanish entirely. The phe­
nomena of optics are nothing but a geometry whose lines are drawn by
light, and this light itself is already of doubtful materiality. In the
phenomena of magnetism all material traces are already disappearing,
and in those of gravitation, which even scientists have thought it pos­
sible to conceive of merely as an immediate spiritual influence, noth­
ing remains but its law, whose large-scale execution is the mechanism
of the heavenly motions. —The completed theory of nature would be
that whereby the whole of nature was resolved into an intelligence.—
The dead and unconscious products of nature are merely abortive at­
tempts that she makes to reflect herself; inanimate nature so-called is
actually as such an immature intelligence, so that in her phenomena
the still unwitting character of intelligence is already peeping
through. —Nature's highest goal, to become wholly an object to her­
self, is achieved only through the last and highest order of reflection,
which is none other than man; or, more generally, it is what we call
reason, whereby nature first completely returns into herself, and by
which it becomes apparent that nature is identical from the first with
what we recognize in ourselves as the intelligent and the conscious.
This may be sufficient to show that natural science has a neces­
sary tendency to render nature intelligent; through this very tendency
it becomes nature-philosophy, which is one of the necessary basic sci­
ences of philosophy.1
B. Alternatively, the subjective is made primary, and the prob­
lem is: how an objective supervenes, which coincides with 让？
If all knowledge rests upon the coincidence of these two (1),
then the problem of explaining this coincidence

】The further elaboration of the concept of a nature-philosophy, and its

necessary tendency, is to be found in the author's Sketch for a System of Nd
ture-Philosophy, coupled with the Introduction to this sketch and the elucida­
tions that are to appear in the first number of the Journal for Speculative
Physics.
[342-43] Concept of Transcendental Philosophy 7

is undoubtedly the supreme problem for all knowledge; and if, as is

generally admitted, philosophy is the highest and foremost of all sci­
ences, we have here undoubtedly the main problem of philosophy.
However, the problem only requires an explanation of the con­
currence as such, and leaves it completely open as to where explana­
tion starts from, as to which it should make primary and which sec­
onds ly. —Yet since the two opposites are mutually necessary to each
other, the result of the operation is bound to be the same, whichever
point we set out from.
To make the objective primary, and to derive the subjective from
that, is, as has just been shown, the problem of nature-philosophy.
If, then, there is a transcendental philosophy^ there remains to
it only the opposite direction, that of proceeding from the subjective, as
primary and absolutet and having the objective arise from this. Thus
nature-philosophy and transcendental philosophy have divided into
the two directions possible to philosophy, and if a/2 philosophy must go
about either to make an intelligence out of nature, or a nature out of
intelligence, then transcendental philosophy, which has the latter
task, is thus the other necessary basic science ofphilosophy,

§2 Corollaries

In the course of the foregoing, we have not only deduced the concept of
transcendental philosophy, but have also furnished the reader with a
glimpse into the entire system of philosophy; this, as we see, is consti­
tuted of two basic sciences which, though opposed to each other in
principle and direction, mutually seek and supplement one another.
Here we shall not set forth the entire system of philosophy, but only
one of the basic sciences, and the derived concept thereof will thus
first receive a more exact characterization.1
1. If the subjective—the first and only ground of all reality— is
for transcendental philosophy the sole principle of explanation for ev­
erything else (§1), then it necessarily begins with a general doubt as to
the reality of the objective.
Just as the nature-philosopher, directed solely upon the objec­
tive, has nothing he more dearly wishes to prevent than an admixture
of the subjective into knowledge, so the transcendental philosopher, by
contrast, wishes nothing more dearly than to avoid an admixture

'Only on completion of the system of transcendental philosophy will

one come to recognize the necessity of a nature-philosophy, as a complemen­
tary science, and thereupon desist from making demands upon the former,
which only a nature-philosophy can satisfy.
8 System of Transcendental Idealism [343-44]

of the objective into the purely subjective principle of knowledge. The

means of separation lie in absolute scepticism—not the half-scepticism
which merely contends against the common prejudices of mankind,
while never looking to fundamentals, but rather that thoroughgoing
scepticism which is directed, not against individual prejudices, but
against the basic preconception, whose rejection leads automatically to
the collapse of everything else. For in addition to the artificial pre­
judices implanted in mankind, there are others far more fundamental,
laid down in us not by art or education, but by nature herself; preju­
dices which, for everyone but philosophers, serve as the principles of
all knowledge, and for the merely self-made thinker rank even as the
touchstone of all truth.
The one basic prejudice, to which all others reduce, is no other
than this: that there are things outside us. This is a conviction that
rests neither on grounds nor on inferences (since there is not a single
reputable proof of it) and yet cannot be extirpated by any argument to
the contrary (naturam furca expellas, tamen usque redibit); it makes
claim to immediate certainty, since it assuredly relates to something
entirely different from us, and even opposed to us, of which we under­
stand not at all how it enters into immediate consciousness; and hence
it can be regarded as nothing more than a prejudice—innate and pri­
mary, to be sure—but no less a prejudice on that account.
The contradiction, that a principle which by nature cannot be
immediately certain is yet accepted as blindly and groundlessly as one
that is so, is incapable of resolution by the transcendental philosopher,
save on the presupposition that this principle is not just covertly and
as yet uncomprehendingly connected with, but is identical with, one
and the same with, an immediate certainty, and to demonstrate this
identity will in fact be the concern of transcendental philosophy.
2. But now even for the common use of reason, nothing is imme­
diately certain save the proposition / exist; which, since it actually
loses its meaning outside immediate consciousness, is the most indi­
vidual of all truths, and the absolute preconceptiont which must first
be accepted, if anything else is to be certain. —The proposition There
are things outside us will therefore only be certain for the transcen­
dental philosopher in virtue of its identity with the proposition / exist,
and its certainty will likewise only be equal to the certainty of the
proposition from which it borrows its own.
Transcendental cognition would thus differ from ordinary cogni­
tion on two counts.
[344-34] “I am” and 'Hhere is" 9

First, that the certainty that external things exist is for it a

mere prejudice, which it goes beyond, in order to discover the grounds
thereof. (It can never be the transcendental philosopher's business to
demonstrate the existence of things-in-themselves, but merely that it
is a natural and necessaiy prejudice to assume that external objects
are real.)
Second, that it separates the two propositions, I exist, and There
are things outside met which in ordinary consciousness are fused to­
gether; setting the one before the other, precisely in order to prove
their identity, and so that it can really exhibit the immediate connec­
tion which is otherwise merely felt. By this very act of separation, if
complete, it shifts into the transcendental mode of apprehension,
which is in no way natural, but artificial.
3. If only the subjective has initial reality for the transcendental
philosopher, he will also make only the subjective the immediate object
of his cognition: the objective will become an object for him indirectly
only, and whereas in ordinary cognition the knowing itself (the act of
knowing) vanishes into the object, in transcendental cognition, on the
contrary, the object as such vanishes into the act of knowing. Tran­
scendental cognition is thus a knowing of knowing, insofar as it is
purely subjective.
Thus in intuition, for example, only the objective element at­
tains to ordinary consciousness, the intuiting itself being lost in the ob­
ject; whereas the transcendental mode of apprehension merely
glimpses the intuited through the act of intuiting. ―Again, ordinary
thinking is a mechanism governed by concepts, though they are not
distinguished as concepts; whereas transcendental thinking suspends
this mechanism, and in becoming aware of the concept as an act, at­
tains to the concept of a concept. —In ordinary action, the acting itself
is lost sight of in the object of action; philosophizing is likewise an ac­
tion, yet not only an action but also at the same time a continuous
scrutiny of the self so engaged.
The nature of the transcendental mode of apprehension must
therefore consist essentially in this, that even that which in all other
thinking, knowing, or acting escapes consciousness and is absolutely
nonobjective, is therein brought to consciousness and becomes objec­
tive; it consists, in short, of a constant objectifying-to-itself of the sub­
jective.
The transcendental artifice will thus consist in the ability to
maintain oneself constantly in this duality of acting and thinking.
10 System of Transcendental Idealism

§3 Preliminary Division of Transcendental Philosophy

This division is preliminary, because the principles of division can only

be first derived in the science itself.
We revert to the concept of the science.
Transcendental philosophy has to explain how knowledge as
such is possible, it being presupposed that the subjective element
therein is to be taken as dominant or primary.
It therefore takes as its object, not an individual portion, nor a
special object of knowledge, but knowledge itself and knowledge as
such.
But now all knowledge reduces to certain primordial convictions
or primordial prejudices; transcendental philosophy must trace these
individual convictions back to one fundamental conviction; this one,
from which all others are derived, is formulated in the first principle of
this philosophy, and the task of finding such a principle is nothing
other than that of finding the absolute certainty whereby all other cer­
tainty is mediated.
The division of transcendental philosophy itself is determined by
those original convictions whose validity it vindicates. These convic­
tions must first be sought in the common understanding. ―And if we
thus transport ourselves back to the standpoint of the common out­
look, we find the following convictions deeply rooted in the human un­
derstanding.
A. That there not only exists a world of things outside and inde­
pendent of us, but also that our presentations are so far coincident
with it that there is nothing else in things save what we attribute to
them. This explains the constraint in our objective presentations, that
things should be unalterably determined, and that our own presenta­
tions should also be immediately determined by this determinacy of
things. This first and most fundamental conviction suffices to deter­
mine the first task of philosophy: to explain how our presentations
can absolutely coincide with objects existing wholly independent of
them. —The assumption that things are just what we take them to be,
so that we are acquainted with them as they are tn themselves, under­
lies the possibility of all experience (for what would experience be, and
to what aberrations would physics, for example, be subject, without
this presupposition of absolute identity between appearance and real­
ity?). Hence, the solution of this problem is identical with theoretical
philosophy, whose task is to investigate the possibility of experience.
B. The second and no less basic conviction is this,
[347-48] Preliminary Division 11

that presentations, arising freely and without necessity in us, pass

over from the world of thought into the real world, and can attain ob­
jective reality.
This conviction is in opposition to the first. The first assumes
that objects are unalterably determined, and thereby also our own pre­
sentations; the second assumes that objects are alterable, and are so,
in fact, through the causality of presentations in us. On the first view
there is a passage from the real world into the world of presentation,
or a determining of presentation by an objective; on the second, there
is a passage from the world of presentation into the real world, or a
determining of the objective by a presentation (freely generated) in
ourselves.
This second conviction serves to determine a second problem,
namely how an objective can be altered by a mere thought, so that it
perfectly coincides therewith.
Upon this conviction the possibility of all free action depends, so
that the solution of this problem is identical with practical philosophy.
C. But with these two problems we find ourselves involved in a
contradiction. —B calls for a dominance of thought (the ideal) over the
world of sense; but how is this conceivable if (by A) the presentation is
in origin already the mere slave of the objective? —Conversely, if the
real world is a thing wholly independent of us, to which (as A tells us)
our presentation must conform (as to its archetype), it is inconceivable
how the real world, on the contrary, could (as B says) conform itself to
presentations in us. —In a word, for certainty in theory we lose it in
practice, and for certainty in practice we lose it in theory; it is impos­
sible both that our knowledge should contain truth and our volition re­
ality.
If there is to be any philosophy at all, this contradiction must be
resolved—and the solution of this problem, or answer to the question:
how can we think both ofpresentations as conforming to objects, and
objects as conforming to presentations'? is, not the first, but the high­
est task of transcendental philosophy.
It is easy to see that this problem can be solved neither in theo­
retical nor in practical philosophy, but only in a higher discipline,
which is the link that combines them, and neither theoretical nor
practical, but both at once.
How both the objective world accommodates to presentations
in us, and presentations in us to the objective world, is unintelligible
unless between the two worlds, the ideal and the real, there exists
a predetermined harmony. But this latter is itself unthinkable
unless the activity, whereby the objective world
12 System of Transcendental Idealism [348-49]

is produced, is at bottom identical with that which expresses itself in

volition, and vice versa.
Now it is certainly a productive activity that finds expression in
willing; all free action is productive, albeit consciously productive. If
we now suppose, since the two activities have only to be one in prin­
ciple, that the same activity which is consciously productive in free ac­
tion, is productive without consciousness in bringing about the world,
then our predetermined harmony is real, and the contradiction re­
solved.
Supposing that all this is really the case, then this fundamental
identity, of the activity concerned in producing the world with that
which finds expression in willing, will display itself in the formers
products, and these will have to appear as products of an activity at
once conscious and nonconscious.
Nature, both as a whole, and in its individual products, will
have to appear as a work both consciously engendered, and yet simul­
taneously a product of the blindest mechanism; nature is purposive,
without being purposively explicable. —The philosophy of natural pur­
poses, or teleology, is thus our point of union between theoretical and
practical philosophy.
D. All that has so far been postulated is simply an identity of
the nonconscious activity that has brought forth nature, and the con­
scious activity expressed in willing, without it being decided where the
principle of this activity belongs, whether in nature or in ourselves.
But now the system of knowledge can only be regarded as com­
plete if it reverts back into its own principle. —Thus the transcenden­
tal philosophy would be completed only if it could demonstrate this
identity—the highest solution of its whole problem—in its own prin­
ciple (namely the self).
It is therefore postulated that this simultaneously conscious and
nonconscious activity will be exhibited in the subjective, in conscious-
ness itself.
There is but one such activity, namely the aesthetic〉and every
work of art can be conceived only as a product of such activity. The
ideal world of art and the real world of objects are therefore products
of one and the same activity; the concurrence of the two (the conscious
and the nonconscious) without consciousness yields the real, and with
consciousness the aesthetic world*
The objective world is simply the original, as yet unconscious,
poetry of the spirit; the universal organon of philosophy—and the
keystone of its entire arch—is the philosophy of art.
 System of Transcendental Idealism 13

§4 The Organ of Transcendental Philosophy

1. The sole immediate object of transcendental concern is the

subjective (§2); the sole organ of this mode of philosophizing is there­
fore inner sense, and its object is such that it cannot even become, as
can that of mathematics, an object of outer intuition. —The math­
ematical object is admittedly no more located outside the knowing-pro-
cess than that of philosophy. The whole existence of mathematics de­
pends upon intuition, and so it also exists only in intuition, but this in­
tuition itself is an external one. The mathematician, furthermore, is
never concerned directly with intuition (the act of construction) itself,
but only with the construct which can certainly be presented exter­
nally, whereas the philosopher looks solely to the act of construction
itself〉which is an absolutely internal thing.
2. Moreover, the objects of the transcendental philosopher exist
not at all, save insofar as they are freely produced. —One cannot be
compelled to such production, as one can, say, by the external depic­
tion of a mathematical figure, be compelled to intuit this internally.
Hence, just as the existence of a mathematical figure depends on outer
sense, so the entire reality of a philosophical concept depends solely on
inner sense. The whole object of this philosophy is nothing else but the
action of the intellect according to determinate laws. This action can
be grasped only through immediate inner intuition on one*s own part,
and this too is possible only through production. But that is not all.
In philosophizing, one is not simply the object of contemplation, but al­
ways at the same time the subject. Two conditions are therefore re­
quired for the understanding of philosophy, first that one be engaged
in a constant inner activity, a constant producing of these original acts
of the intellect; and second, that one be constantly reflecting upon this
production; in a word, that one always remain at the same time both
the intuited (the producer) and the intuitant.
3. Through this constant double activity of producing and
intuiting, something is to become an object, which is not otherwise
reflected by anything. —We cannot here demonstrate, though we
shall in the sequel, that this coming-to-be-reflected of the absolutely
non-conscious and nonobjective is possible only through an
aesthetic act of the imagination. This much, however, is apparent
from what we have already shown, namely that all philosophy is
productive. Thus philosophy depends
14 System of Transcendental Idealism [351-52]

as much as art does on the productive capacity, and the difference be­
tween them rests merely on the different direction taken by the pro­
ductive force. For whereas in art the production is directed outwards,
so as to reflect the unknown by means of products, philosophical pro­
duction is directed immediately inwards, so as to reflect it in intellec­
tual intuition. The proper sense by which this type of philosophy must
be apprehended is thus the aesthetic sense, and that is why the phi­
losophy of art is the true organon of philosophy (§3).
From ordinary reality there are only two ways out—poetry,
which transports us into an ideal world, and philosophy, which makes
the real world vanish before our eyes. —It is not apparent why the gift
for philosophy should be any more widely spread than that for poetry,
especially among that class of persons in whom, either through
memory-work (than which nothing is more immediately fatal to pro­
ductivity), or through dead speculation, destructive of all imagination,
the aesthetic organ has been totally lost.
4. It is needless to linger over the commonplaces about a native
sense of truth, since we are wholly indifferent to its conclusions,
though one might ask what other conviction could still be sacred to
one who takes for granted the most certain of all (that there are things
outside us). —Let us rather take one more look at the so-called claims
of the common understanding.
In matters of philosophy the common understanding has no
claims whatever, save that to which every object of enquiry is entitled,
namely to be completely accounted for.
Thus it is no concern of ours to prove the truth of what it takes
to be true; we merely have to lay bare the inevitability of its delusions.
—It is agreed that the objective world belongs only to the necessary
limitations which make self-consciousness (the I am) possible; for the
common understanding it is sufficient if from this opinion itself the ne­
cessity of its own view is again derived.
For this purpose it is necessary, not only that the inner work­
ings of our mental activity be thrown open, the mechanism of neces­
sary presentation unveiled, but also that it be shown by what peculiar­
ity of our nature it is ordained, that what has reality merely in our in­
tuition is reflected to us as something present outside us.
Just as natural science brings forth idealism out of realism, in
that it spiritualizes natural laws into laws of mind, or appends the for­
mal to the material (§1), so transcendental philosophy brings forth re­
alism out of idealism, in that it materializes the latus of mind into laws
of nature, or annexes the material to the formal.
 PART ONE

On the Principle of Transcendental Idealism

Section One: On the Necessity and Character of a Supreme Principle

of Knowledge
1. It will be assumed meantime as a hypothesis, that there is indeed
reality in our knowledge, and we shall ask what the conditions of this
reality may be. —Whether there is actually reality in our knowledge
will depend on whether these initially inferred conditions can be actu­
ally exhibited later on.
If all knowledge rests upon the coincidence of an objective and a
subjective (Introd. §1), the whole of our knowledge consists of proposi­
tions which are not immediately true, which derive their reality from
something else.
The mere putting-together of a subjective with a subjective gives
no basis for knowledge proper. And conversely, knowledge proper pre­
supposes a concurrence of opposites, whose concurrence can only be a
mediated one.
Hence there must be some universally mediating factor in our
knowledge, which is the sole ground thereof,
2. It will be assumed as a hypothesis, that there is a system in our
knowledge, that is, that it is a whole which is self-supporting and in­
ternally consistent with itself. —The sceptic denies this presupposi­
tion, like the first, and like the first it can be demonstrated only
through the fact itself. —For what would it be like if even our knowl­
edge, and indeed the whole of nature (for us) were internally self-con­
tradictory? —Let us then assume merely, that our knowledge is a pri­
mordial whole, of which the system of philosophy is to be the outline,
and renew our preliminary enquiry as to the conditions of such a
whole.
Now every true system (such as that of the cosmos, for example)
must contain the ground of its subsistence within itself; and hence, if
there be a system of knowledge, its principle must lie within knowl­
edge itself.
3. There can only be one such principle. For all truth is absolutely on
a par. There may certainly be degrees of probability, but there are no
degrees of truth; one truth is as true as another. But that the truth of
all propositions of knowledge is absolutely equal is impossible, if they
derive their truth from different principles (or mediating factors); so
there can only be one (mediating) principle in all knowledge.
4. This principle is the mediating or indirect principle in every
science, but the immediate and direct
16 System of Transcendental Idealism [354-55]

principle only of the science of all knowledge, or transcendental phi­

losophy.
The task of establishing a science of knowledge, a science which
puts the subjective first and fbremost> immediately compels one to­
wards a highest principle of all knowledge.
All objections against such an absolutely highest principle of
knowledge are already precluded by the very concept of transcenden­
tal philosophy. They arise merely from this, that the limited nature of
the first task of this science is overlooked; it is a science which ab­
stracts at the very outset from everything objective, and takes only the
subjective into account.
There is no question at all of an absolute principle o£ being, for
against any such these objections are all valid; what we seek is an ab­
solute principle o(knowledge.
But now it is obvious that if there were not an absolute limit to
knowledgesomething that, even without our being aware of it, abso­
lutely fetters and binds us in knowledge, and that, in the course of our
knowing never once becomes an object, precisely because it is the prin­
ciple of all knowledge—then we could simply never arrive at knowl­
edge, even of one solitary thing.
The transcendental philosopher does not ask what ultimate
ground of our knowledge may lie outside the same. His question is,
what is the ultimate in our knowledge itself, beyond which we cannot
go? He seeks the principle of knowledge within knowledge} (thus it is
itself something that can be known).
The claim that there is a highest principle of knowledge is not a
positive claim, like that on behalf of an absolute principle of being, but
a negative, limiting one, amounting merely to this: There is an ulti­
mate of some sort, from which all knowledge begins, and beyond which
there is no knowledge.
Since the transcendental philosopher (Introd. §1) invariably
takes only the subjective as his object, he likewise maintains that it is
only subjectively, that is, for us, that there is a primary knowledge of
some kind; whether, in abstraction from us, there is anything else
whatever beyond this primary knowledge, he does not initially care at
all, and the sequel must decide it.
Now undoubtedly this primary knowledge is for us the
knowledge of ourselves, or self-consciousness. If the idealist makes
this knowledge into the principle of his philosophy, this is in accor­
dance with the limited nature of his whole task, which has nothing
for its object beyond the subjective element in knowledge. —That
self-consciousness is the fixed point, to which everything is
attached for us, is something that requires no proof. —But that
this self-consciousness might merely
[355-57] Highest Principle: Self-consciousness 17

be the modiHcation of a higher being—(perhaps of a higher conscious­

ness, and this of a higher one still, and so ad infinitum)—in a word,
that even self-consciousness might still be something explicable as
such, explicable by something of which we can know nothing, because
the whole synthesis of our knowledge is first made precisely through
self-consciousness—this is something that is of no concern to us as
transcendental philosophers; for self-consciousness is not a kind of be­
ing for us, but a kind of knowing, and in fact the highest and most ul­
timate that there can ever be for us.
To proceed further, it needs in fact to be proved, and has already
been partly proved above (Introd. §1), that even when the objective is
arbitrarily posited as primary, we still never get beyond self-conscious­
ness. We are then either driven back endlessly in our explanations,
from the grounded to the ground, or we must arbitrarily break the se­
quence, by positing an absolute that is both cause and effect~»both
subject and object—of itself, and since this is initially possible only
through self-consciousness, by again positing a self-consciousness as
primary; this occurs in natural science for which being is no more fun­
damental than it is for transcendental philosophy (see my Sketch of a
System of Nature-Philosophy f p. 5 [Sdmtliche Werke, ed. K. F. A.
Schelling (1856-64), 3,1-268]), and which posits its sole reality in an
absolute that is both cause and effect of itself—in the absolute identity
of the subjective and the objective, which we call nature, and which in
its highest potentiality is again nothing else but self-consciousness.
Dogmatism, for which being is fundamental, can explain things
no otherwise than by an infinite regress; for the series of causes and
effects, by which its explanation proceeds, could be closed only by
something that is at once cause and effect of itself; but by that very
fact it would be transformed into a science of nature, which itself again
reverts on completion into the principle of transcendental idealism. (A
consistent dogmatism is to be found only in Spinozism; but as a real
system Spinozism again can endure only as a science of nature, whose
last outcome is once more the principle of transcendental philosophy).
It is evident from all this that self-consciousness circumscribes
the entire horizon of our knowing even when extended into infinity,
and that it remains in every direction the highest principle. Yet for
present purposes we have no need of so commanding a thought, but
only of reflection on the meaning of our first task. —The following ar­
gument will surely be found intelligible and plain to everyone.
18 System of Transcendental Idealism [357-58]

My only concern at the outset is to bring system into my knowl­

edge itself, and to seek within knowledge itself for that by which all in­
dividual knowing is determined. —But now undoubtedly that which
determines everything in my knowledge is the knowledge of myself.—
Since I seek to ground my knowledge only in itself, I enquire no fur­
ther as to the ultimate ground of this primary knowledge (self-con­
sciousness), which, if it exists, must necessarily lie outside knowledge.
Self-consciousness is the lamp of the whole system of knowledge, but it
casts its light ahead only, not behind. —Even admitting that this self­
consciousness were merely the modification of a being independent of
it, a thing that no philosophy, to be sure, can render intelligible, it is
no kind of being for me at present, but rather a kind of knowledge, and
only in this capacity do I consider it here. Owing to the limitations of
my task, which endlessly pens me back into the circle of knowledge, it
becomes for me an autonomous and absolute principle—not of all be­
ing, but of all knowledge, since all knowledge (and not only my own)
must start from it. —That knowledge as such, and in particular this
primary knowledge, is dependent on something existing independently
thereof, has yet to be proved by any dogmatist. Till now it remains
just as possible, that all existence is merely the modification of a cogni­
tion, as that all cognition is merely the modification of an existent.—
But yet disregarding entirely, and quite apart from the question
whether it is existence that is necessary as such, and knowledge
merely the accident thereof~for our science knowledge is for this rea­
son autonomous, that we have regard to it solely as it is grounded in
itself, that is, insofar as it is purely subjective.
Whether it is absolutely autonomous can be left undecided, until
such time as the science itself has determined whether anything what­
ever can be thought, which is not to be derived from this knowledge it­
self.
Against the task itself, or rather against the definition thereof,
the dogmatist can offer no objection, if only because I quite freely re­
strict my concern, and am only unable freely to extend it to something
which, as will be evident in advance, can never fall within the sphere
of my knowledge, such as an ultimate ground of knowledge beyond all
knowledge. —The only possible objection to our procedure is that the
task so defined is not a philosophical task, and its outcome not philoso­
phy.
But what philosophy may bet is precisely the question that has
not so far been agreed upon, and whose resolution can only be the out­
come of philosophy itself.
[358-59] Content and Form 19

That the accomplishment of this task is philosophy, can be decided

only by the fact itself, in that by achieving this task we simultaneously
solve all problems whose solution has hitherto been sought in philoso-
phy.
We thus maintain, with no less right than the dogmatist in
maintaining the opposite, that what has hitherto been regarded as
philosophy is possible only as a science of knowledge, and has knowl­
edge, not being as its object; and that its principle, likewise, can be no
principle of being, but only a principle of knowledge. —Whether we
shall have more success in getting from knowledge to being, in deriv­
ing everything objective from a knowledge previously assumed as au­
tonomous only for purposes of our science, and in thereby raising it to
absolute independence—whether we shall do better in this than the
dogmatist does in the opposite endeavor, of bringing forth knowledge
from a being assumed as independent—the sequel must decide.
5. The first task of our science is to discover whether a passage
can be found from knowledge as such (so far as it is an act) to the ob­
jective element therein (which is no act, but a being or subsis tent); this
task already postulates the autonomy of knowledge, and prior to the
attempt there can be no objection lodged against it.
The task itself therefore postulates at the same time that knowl­
edge has an absolute principle within itself, and this principle lying
within knowledge itself is likewise to be the principle of transcendental
philosophy as a science.
But now every science is a body of propositions under a determi­
nate form. So if the entire system of science is to be based on this prin­
ciple, it must not only determine the content, but also the form of this
science.
It is generally assumed that philosophy possesses a characteris­
tic form, which we call the systematic form. To presuppose this form
without deducing it is acceptable in other sciences, which already pre­
suppose the science of sciences, but is not so in that science itself,
which has as its object the very possibility of form as such.
What is scientific form as such, and what is its origin? The sci­
ence of knowledge must answer this question for all other sciences.—
But this science of knowledge is itself already a science, and would
thus require a science of knowledge concerning itself; but this too
would be a science, and so ad infinitum. The question is how we are
to account for this circle, since it obviously cannot be resolved.
20 System of Transcendental Idealism [359-60]

This circle unavoidable to science can have no explanation un­

less its original source lies in knowledge itself (the object of the sci­
ence), in the following fashion: that the original content of knowledge
presupposes the original form, and conversely, the original form of
knowledge presupposes its original content, and both are mutually
conditioned by each other. —For this purpose we should require to dis­
cover in the intellect itself a point at which, by one and the same indi­
visible act of primordial cognition, both content and form are gener­
ated. The task of finding such a point would be identical with that of
discovering the principle of all knowledge.
The principle ofphilosophy must thus be one in which content is
conditioned by form, and form in turn by content—not the one presup­
posing the other, but each in reciprocity.—Among other arguments
against a first principle of philosophy, the following is also employed.
The principle of philosophy must admit of being expressed in a funda­
mental proposition: this must assuredly be not just a formal, but a
material proposition. But now every proposition, whatever its content,
falls under the laws of logic. Hence every material principle, merely
by being such, presupposes higher principles, namely those of logic.—
Nothing is wanting to this argument, save that it also be reversed. Let
us consider any formal proposition, say, A = A, as the highest; the logi­
cal element in this proposition is merely the form of identity between
A and A; but where, then, do I get A itself from? If A exists, it is equal
to itself; but where does it come from? This question can assuredly be
answered, not from the proposition itself, but only from a higher one.
The analysis A - A presupposes the synthesis A. So it is evident that
no formal principle can be thought without presupposing a material
principle, or a material without presupposing a formal one.
From this circle, that every form presupposes a content, every
content a form, there is no escape whatever, unless some proposition
can be found in which form is reciprocally conditioned and made pos­
sible by content, and content by form.
The first mistaken assumption of the above argument consists,
therefore, in taking the principles of logic to be unconditioned, that is,
derivative from no higher propositions. —But now the principles of
logic arise for us in this way only, that we turn what in other proposi­
tions is merely form into the actual content of the principles in ques­
tion; thus logic can only arise as such by abstraction from determinate
propositions. If it arises in a scientific manner, it can do
[360-62] Deduction of the Principle Itself 21

so only by abstraction from the highest principles of knowledge, and

since these, as principles, themselves on the other hand already pre­
suppose the logical form, they must be such that in them both factors,
the form and the content, reciprocally condition and involve each
other.
But now this abstraction cannot take place until such time as
these highest principles of knowledge are established, and the science
of knowledge is itself brought into existence. This new circle, that the
science of knowledge is at once the foundation of logic, and yet has to
be brought about in accordance with logical laws, is to be accounted for
on the same lines as that exhibited earlier. Since, in the highest prin­
ciples of knowledge, form and content are conditioned by each other,
the science of knowledge must be at once the law and the most perfect
embodiment of scientific form, and be absolutely autonomous in both
form and content alike.

Section Tu)o: Deduction of the Principle Itself

We are speaking of a deduction of the highest principle. It cannot be a

question of deriving it from one still highert and certainly not of a
proof of its content. The proof can proceed only upon the dignity of this
principle, or upon proving that it is the highest, and possesses all those
characteristics which appertain thereto.
This deduction can be carried out in many different ways. We
adopt that which, being the easiest, allows us at the same time to per­
ceive most immediately the true meaning of the principle.
1. That knowledge as such is possible—not of this or that par­
ticular thing, but of anything, be it only the knowledge that we know
nothing, is admitted even by the sceptic. If we know anything at all,
then this knowledge is either conditioned or unconditioned. —Con­
ditioned?—we know a thing thus, only because it is connected with
something unconditioned. So we arrive in any case at an uncondi­
tioned knowledge. (That there must be something in our knowledge,
which we do not in turn know from some higher thing, has already
been shown in the preceding section).
The question is thus simply, what it is that we unconditionally
know.
2. I know unconditionally only that of which the
knowledge is conditioned solely by the subjective, not by anything
objective. —Now it is claimed that only a
22 System of Transcendental Idealism [362-63]

knowledge expressed in identical propositions is conditioned by the

subjective alone. For in the judgement A = A there is a total abstrac­
tion from the content of the subject, A. Whether A as such has reality
or not is a matter of entire indifference for this knowledge. And so, if
complete abstraction is made from the reality of the subject, A is con­
sidered simply insofar as it is posited in us, presented by us; whether
this presentation corresponds to anything outside us is simply not
asked. The proposition is evident and certain, quite regardless of
whether A is something really existing, or merely imagined, or even
impossible. For it says no more than this: in thinking A, I think noth­
ing else but A. The knowledge in this proposition is thus conditioned
purely by my thinking (the subjective), that is, as explained above, it is
unconditioned.
3. But in all knowledge an objective is thought of as coinciding
with the subjective. In the proposition A = A, however, no such coinci­
dence occurs. Thus all fundamental knowledge advances beyond the
identity of thinking, and the proposition A = A must itself presuppose
such knowledge. —Having thought A, I admittedly think of it as A; but
how, then, do I come to think A in the first place? If it is a concept
freely engendered, it begets no knowledge; if it is one that arises with
the feeling of necessity, it must have objective reality.
Now all propositions in which subject and predicate are linked,
not by the mere identity of thinkingt but by something alien to the
thought and distinct from it, are called synthetic} and if so, the whole
of our knowledge consists of nothing but synthetic propositions, and
only therein do we find true knowledge, that is, a knowing that has its
object outside itself.
4. But now synthetic propositions are not unconditioned, self-
evidently certain, for this is the case only with identical or analytic
propositions (cf. 2 above). So if there is to be certainty in synthetic
propositions—and thereby in all our knowledge—they must be traced
back to an unconditional certainty, that is, to the identity of thinking
as such, which is, however, a contradiction.
5. This contradiction would be soluble only if some point could
be found in which the identical and the synthetic are one, or some
proposition which, in being identical, is at once synthetic, and tn being
synthetic, is at once identical.
In every synthetic judgement, A = B, a wholly alien
objective coincides with a subjective; the predicate, the concept,
always stands here for the subjective, and the subject term for
the objective; and how we can
[363-64] Deduction of the Principle Itself 23

attain to certainty in regard to such propositions is unintelligible,

a) unless something, as such, is absolutely true. For if our
knowledge involved an endless regress from principle to principle,
then in order to arrive at that feeling of compulsion (the certainty of
the proposition), we should have, unconsciously at least, to run
through that unending series backwards, which is obviously absurd.
If the series is genuinely without end, there can be no way of running
through it. If it is not, then there is something absolutely true. —If
there is such, then our whole knowledge, and every single truth in
what we know, must be involved with that absolute certainty; the co­
vert feeling of this connection is responsible for that sense of compul­
sion we have in taking any proposition to be true. —It is the task of
philosophy to resolve this covert feeling into overt concepts, by exhibit­
ing the connection in question, and the major linkages therein.
b) This absolute truth can only be an identical piece of knowl­
edge; but now since all true knowing is synthetic, the absolute truth,
for all it is an identical cognition, must necessarily also be at the same
time a synthetic one; so if there is such a truth there must also exist a
point at which the synthetic springs directly from the identical cogni­
tion, and the identical from the synthetic.
6. In order to solve the problem of finding such a point, we must
undoubtedly enter more deeply into the contrast between identical and
synthetic propositions.
In every proposition two concepts are compared together, that
is, they are either set equal or unequal to each other. Now in identical
propositions the thought is compared merely with itself, —The syn­
thetic proposition, on the other hand, goes beyond the mere thought; in
thinking the subject of the proposition, I do not also think the predi­
cate; the latter is annexed to the subject. Thus the object here is not
merely determined by the thought of it; it is regarded as real, since
anything is real that cannot be brought about merely by thought.
Now if an identical proposition is one in which concept is com­
pared only with concept, while a synthetic proposition is one in which
the concept is compared with an object distinct from itself, the task of
finding a point at which identical knowledge is at the same time syn­
thetic amounts to this: to find a point at which the object and its con-
cept, the thing and its presentation^ are originally, absolutely and im­
mediately one.
That this task is identical with that of finding a principle of
all knowledge, can be still more briefly
24 System of Transcendental Idealism [364-65]

shown as follows. —There is absolutely no explaining how presenta­

tion and object can coincide, unless in knowledge itself there exists a
point at which both are originally one―or at which being and presen­
tation are in the most perfect identity
7. Now since presentation is the subjective, while being is the
objective, the task, in a nutshell, consists of finding the point at which
subject and object are immediately one.
8. By this even more exact delimitation of the problem, it is now
as good as solved. This unmediated identity of subject and object can
exist only where the presented is at the same time that which presents,
where the intuited is also the intuitant. —But this identity of pre­
senter and presented occurs only in self-consciousness; it is here,
therefore, that the desired point has been found.

Elucidations

a) If we now look back at the principle of identity, A = A, we find that

we could immediately derive from it our own principle. —In every
identical proposition, so we claimed, a thought is compared with itself,
which assuredly takes place by an act of thinking. The proposition A =
A therefore presupposes a thinking which immediately becomes its
own object; but an act of thinking that thus becomes an object to itself
occurs only in self-consciousness. There is admittedly no seeing how
one could pluck something real out of a proposition of logic purely as
such; but it is possible to see how, by reflection on the act of thinking
in this proposition, one might discover something real, for instance
categories, from the logical functions of judgement, and thus the act of
self-consciousness, from every identical proposition.
b) The fact that, in self-consciousness, the subject and object of think­
ing are one, can only become clear to anyone through the act of self­
consciousness itself. What is involved here, is that one should simulta­
neously undertake this act, and in so doing should again reflect upon
oneself. —Self-consciousness is the act whereby the thinker immedi­
ately becomes an object to himself, and conversely, this act and no
other is self-consciousness. —This act is an exercise of absolute free­
dom, to which one can certainly be directed, but not compelled. —The
ability to intuit oneself therein, to discriminate oneself as thinker and
as thought, and in so discriminating, again to acknowledge oneself as
identical, will be constantly presupposed in what follows.
c) Self-consciousness is an act, yet by every act something is brought
about in us. —Every thinking is an act,
[366-67] The Act of Thinking Oneself 25

and every determinate thinking a determinate act; yet by every such

act there originates for us also a determinate concept. The concept is
nothing else but the act of thinking itself, and abstracted from this it is
nothing. The act of self-consciousness must likewise give rise to a con­
cept for us, and this is nothing other than that of the self. In becoming
an object of myself through self-consciousness, there arises for me the
concept of the self, and conversely, the concept of the self is merely the
concept of becoming-an-object-to-oneself.
d) The concept of the self arises through the act of self-consciousness,
and thus apart from this act the self is nothing; its whole reality de­
pends solely on this act, and it is itself nothing other than this act.
Thus the self can only be presented qua act as such, and is otherwise
nothing.
Whether the external object may be nothing distinct from its
concept, whether here too concept and object are one, is a question
that has first to be decided; but that the concept of the self, ie, the act
whereby thinking as such becomes its own object, and the self itself
(the object) are absolutely one, is in no need of proof, since apart from
this act the self is obviously nothing, and exists as such only in this
act.
Thus we have here that original identity of thought and object,
appearance and reality, for which we were searching, and which is no­
where else to be found. The self simply has no existence, prior to that
act whereby thinking becomes its own object, and is thus itself nothing
other than thinking becoming its object, and hence absolutely nothing
apart from the thought. —That this identity between being-thought
and coming-to-be, in the case of the self, remains hidden from so
many, is due solely to the fact that they neither perform the act of self­
consciousness in freedom, nor are able to reflect in so doing upon what
arises therein. —As to the first it should be noted that we assuredly
distinguish self-consciousness, qua act, from merely empirical con­
sciousness; what we commonly term consciousness is something that
merely continues along with presentations of objects, and maintains
identity in the flux of presentations; it is thus of a purely empirical
kind, in that I am thereby aware of myself, certainly, but only as a
subject of presentations. —But the act here under discussion is one
whereby I am aware of myself, not with this determination or that, but
originally, and this consciousness, in contrast to the other, is called
pure consciousness or self-consciousness.
The genesis of these two types of consciousness can be
further elucidated as follows. On abandoning oneself entirely to
the involuntary succession of presentations, these latter, however
manifold and diverse they may be,
26 System of Transcendental Idealism [367-68]

will still appear as belonging to a single identical subject. If I reflect

upon this identity of the subject among its presentations, there arises
for me the proposition 7 think". It is this *1 think* which accompanies
all presentations and preserves the continuity of consciousness be­
tween them. —But if we free ourselves from all presentation, so as to
achieve an original self-awareness, there arises—not the proposition I
think, but the proposition *1 am\ which is beyond doubt a higher pro­
position. The words 1 think* already give expression to a determina­
tion or affection of the self; the proposition 7 a/n', on the contrary, is
an infinite proposition, since it is one that has no actual predicate,
though for that very reason it is the locus of an infinity of possible
predicates.
e) The self is nothing distinct from its thinking; the thinking of the
self and the self as such are absolutely one; thus the self is nothing
whatever beyond the thinking, and hence is not a thing or affair, but
rather the unendingly nonobjective. This must be understood as fol­
lows. The self is indeed an object, but only for itself, and is thus not
originally in the world of objects; it first becomes an object by making
itself into an object, and does not become one for anything external,
but always only for itself.
Everything else, that is not self, is originally an object, but for
that very reason is so, not for itself, but for an intuitant outside it.
The originally objective is always merely a known, never a knower.
The self becomes a known only through its knowing of itself. —Matter
is said to be without self, precisely because it has no inwardness, and
is apprehended only in the intuition of another.
f) If the self is not a thing or affair, it is likewise in vain to enquire
about any predicate thereof for it has none, save only this, that it is
not a thing. The character of the self consists in this very fact, that it
has no other predicate than that of self-consciousness.
The same result can now be derived from other angles as well.
That which is the highest principle of knowledge cannot have
the ground of its cognition in something higher still. Hence, for us too,
its principium essendi and principium cognoscendi must be one, and
coincide in a unity.
For that very reason, this unconditioned cannot be sought in
any kind of thing; for whatever is an object is also an original object
of knowledge, whereas that which is the principle of all knowledge
can in no way become an object of knowledge originally, or in itself,
but only through a specific act of freedom.
[368-69] The Self as Intellectual Intuition 27

Hence the unconditioned cannot possibly be sought in the world

of objects (whence it follows that even for natural science the purely
objective, namely matter, is nothing fundamental, being no less an ap­
pearance than it is for transcendental philosophy).
We call unconditioned, that which absolutely cannot become a
thing or matter of fact. Hence the first problem of philosophy can also
be formulated as that of finding something which absolutely cannot be
thought of as a thing. But the only candidate here is the self9 and con­
versely, the self is that which is intrinsically nonobjective.
g) Now if the self is absolutely not an object, or thing, it seems hard to
explain how any kind of knowledge of it is possible, or what sort of
knowledge we have of it.
The self is pure act, a pure doing, which simply has to be nonob­
jective in knowledge, precisely because it is the principle of all knowl­
edge. So if it is to become an object of knowledge, this must come
about through a type of knowing utterly different from ordinary
knowledge. This knowing must be
aa) absolutely free, if only because all other knowledge is not free; a
knowing, therefore, that is not arrived at by way of proofs, or infer­
ences, or any sort of aid from concepts, and is thus essentially an intu­
ition;
bb) a knowing whose object is not independent thereof, and thus a
knowing that is simultaneously a producing of its object—an intuition
freely productive in itself, in which producer and product are one and
the same.
In contrast to sensory intuition, which does not appear as a pro­
ducing of its object, and where the intuiting itself is therefore distinct
from the intuited, an intuition of the above type will be called intellec­
tual intuition.
The self is such an intuition, since it is through the selfs own
knowledge of itself that that very self (the object) first comes into be­
ing. For since the self (as object) is nothing else but the very knowl­
edge of itselft it arises simply out of the fact that it knows of itself; the
self itself is thus a knowing that simultaneously produces itself (as ob­
ject).
Intellectual intuition is the organ of all transcendental thinking.
For the latter sets out to objectify to itself through freedom, what is
otherwise not an object; it presupposes a capacity, simultaneously to
produce certain acts of mind, and so to intuit that the producing of the
object and the intuiting itself are absolutely one; but this very capacity
is that of intellectual intuition.
Transcendental philosophizing must thus be constantly
28 System of Transcendental Idealism [369-71]

accompanied by intellectual intuition: all the alleged non-comprehen­

sion of this philosophizing is due, not to its own unintelligibility, but to
a want of the organ required to comprehend it. Without this intuition
the philosophizing itself has no substrate to carry and support its
thinking; it is this intuition which in transcendental thinking replaces
the objective world, and sustains, as it were, the speculative flight.
The self itself is an object that exists by knowing of itself^ that is, it is a
permanent intellectual intuition; since this self-producing object is the
sole object of transcendental philosophy, intellectual intuition is for
the latter precisely what space is for geometry. Just as geometry
would be absolutely unintelligible without spatial intuition, since all
its constructions are simply different ways and means of delimiting
that intuition, so all philosophy would be unintelligible without intel­
lectual intuition, since all its concepts are simply diflerent delimita­
tions of a producing having itself as objectt that is, of intellectual intu­
ition. (Cf. Fichte's introduction to the Science of Knowledge* in the
Philosophical Journal^
Why this intuition should have been taken to be something mys­
terious—a special sense that only a few pretend to—is explicable only
on the assumption that many people actually lack it; though this is un­
doubtedly no more curious than their lack of numerous other senses,
whose reality is equally beyond dispute.
h) The self is nothing else but a producing that becomes an object to
itself, that is, an intellectual intuition. But now this latter is itself an
absolutely free action, and so cannot be demonstrated, but only de­
manded; so if the self is itself this intuition merely, it too, as principle
of philosophy, is itself merely something that is postulated.
Ever since Reinhold made it his aim to put philosophy on a
scientific basis, there has been much talk of a first principle that phi­
losophy must start from; and by this has commonly been understood
a theorem in which the whole of philosophy was to be comprised. Yet
it is easy to see that transcendental philosophy cannot proceed from
any theorem, if only because it sets out from the subjective, ie, from
that which can only become objective through a special act of freedom.
A theorem is a proposition that proceeds from an existent. Transcen­
dental philosophy, however, proceeds from no existent, but from a
free act, and such an act can only be postulated. Every science that
is not empirical must already exclude all empiricism by its first prin­
ciple, that is, it should not presuppose its object as already present,
but must bring it forth. That, for example,

】[C/1 J. G. Fichte: Science of Knowledge, tr. P. Heath and J. Lachs

(1982), 2d Introduction, pp. 38 ff. - Tr.]
[371-72] What the Self Is 29

is how geometry proceeds, in that it sets out, not from theorems, but
from postulates. In that the most primary construction therein is pos­
tulated, and the pupil himself left to bring it forth, it is dependent
from the start upon self-construction. —So too with transcendental
philosophy. Unless the transcendental mode of thinking is already
brought with ust we are bound to find it unintelligible. It is therefore
necessary to transfer oneself freely from the outset into that way of
thinking, and this comes about by means of the free act whereby the
principle originates. If transcendental philosophy presupposes its ob­
jects not at all, it can least of all presuppose its primary object, the
principle} this it can only postulate as something to be freely con­
structed, and just as the principle is a construction of its own, so too
are all its other concepts, and the whole science is concerned only with
its own free construction.
If the principle of philosophy is a postulate, the object of this
postulate will be the most primary construction for inner sense, i.e” for
the self, not insofar as it is determined in this particular fashion or
that, but qua self as such, as the producing of itself. Now in and
through this original construction something determinate does indeed
come about, just as it does through every determinate act of mind.
But the product is in no sense external to the construction, it exists at
all only in being constructed, and has no more existence in abstraction
from the construction than does the geometer's line. —And this line
also is nothing existent, for the line on the blackboard is by no means
the line itself, and is only recognized as linear by relating it to the
original intuition of the line itself.
What the self is, is for that reason no more demonstrable than
what the line is; one can only describe the action whereby it comes
about. —If the line could be demonstrated, it would not need to be pos­
tulated. And so it is with that transcendental line, the act of produc­
ing, which in transcendental philosophy must initially be intuited, and
from which ail other constructions of the science first come into being.
What the self is, we experience only by bringing it forth, for no­
where but in the self is the identity of being and producing fundamen­
tal. (Cf. my general review of philosophical literature in the new
Philosophical Journal^ No. 10).1
i) That which arises for us through the original act of intellectual in­
tuition can be formulated in a basic proposition, which may be termed
the first basic proposition of philosophy. Now by intellectual intuition

lAbhandlungen zur Erlauterung des Idealismus der Wissenschaftslehre,

SW, I, p. 401.
30 System of Transcendental Idealism [372-73]

there arises for us the self, insofar as it is its own product, at once pro­
ducing and produced. This identity between the self as producing and
the self as produced is expressed in the proposition, self = self; since it
equates opposites to itself, this is by no means an identical proposition,
but a synthetic one.
Thus the proposition self = self converts the proposition A = A
into a synthetic proposition, and we have found the point at which
identical knowledge springs immediately from synthetic, and synthetic
from identical. But this point also contains (Section 1) the principle of
all knowledge. Hence that principle must be expressed in the proposi­
tion self = self, since this very proposition is the only one there can 6e
that is simultaneously both identical and synthetic.
Mere reflection upon the proposition A =A could have led us to
the same point. —To be sure, A = A appears identical, but it might
very well also have synthetic meaning, if the one A, say, were opposed
to the other. One would thus have to substitute in place of A a concept
expressing a fundamental duality within the identity and vice versa.
A concept of this sort, is that of an object that is at once opposed
to, and the same as, itself. But the only such object is one that is at
once cause and effect of itself, producer and product, subject and ob­
ject. —The concept of an original identity in duality, and vice versa^ is
thus to be found only in the concept of a subject-object^ and only in
self-consciousness does such a concept originally manifest itself.
Natural science proceeds arbitrarily from nature, as the simul­
taneously productive and produced, in order to derive from that con­
cept the particular. The identity in question is an immediate object of
knowledge only in immediate self-consciousness; in that highest power
of self-objectification, to which the transcendental philosopher raises
himself at the outset—not arbitrarily, but through freedom} and the
fundamental duality in nature is itself ultimately explicable only inas­
much as nature is taken to be an intelligence.
k) The proposition self = se/f fulfills at the same time the second
requirement imposed upon the principle of knowledge, that it should
simultaneously ground both the form and the content of knowledge.
For the supreme formal principle, A = A, is indeed only possible
through the act expressed in the proposition self ~ self—through the
act of thinking that becomes an object to itself and is identical with
itself. Thus, so far from the self = seZ/*falling under the principle of
identity, it is rather the latter that is conditioned by the former.
For did not self 二 self, then nor could A = A, since
[373-74] Self and Individual 31

the equivalence posited in the latter proposition expresses, after all, no

more than an equivalence between the judging subject and that in
which A is posited as object, that is, an equivalence between the self as
subject and as object.

General Observations

1. The contradiction resolved in the foregoing deduction was as fol­

lows: The science of knowledge cannot proceed from anything objec­
tive, since it actually begins with a general doubt about the reality of
the objective. The unconditionally certain can therefore lie for it only
in the absolutely nonobjective, which also proves the nonobjectivity of
identical propositions (as the only ones unconditionally known). But
now how an objective emerges from the original nonobjective would be
beyond understanding, if this nonobjective were not a self9 that is, a
principle that becomes an object to itself. —Only what is not originally
an object can make itself into an object and thereby become one. From
this original duality in itself there unfolds for the self everything ob­
jective that enters its consciousness; and it is only that original iden­
tity in the duality which brings unification and connection into all syn­
thetic knowledge.
2. A few remarks may be needed concerning the terminology em­
ployed in this philosophy.
Kant, in his Anthropology, finds it remarkable that as soon as a
child begins to speak of itself by the word T, a new world appears to
open up for it. In fact this is very natural; it is the intellectual world
that opens to the child, for whoever can say T to himself uplifts him­
self, by that very act, above the objective world, and steps out of the
intuition of others into his own. —Philosophy must undoubtedly set
out from that concept which contains all intellectuality within it, and
from which philosophy itself evolves.
From this alone it is evident that something higher is contained
in the concept of the self than the mere expression of individuality}
that it is the act of self-consciousness as such, with which, admittedly,
the consciousness of individuality must enter at the same time, but
which does not itself contain anything individual. —It is only of the
self as act of selfconsciousness as such that we have so far been speak­
ing and all individuality must first be derived therefrom.
If, under the self as principle, we do not think the individual,
we equally do not think of the empirical
32 System of Transcendental Idealism [375-76]

self~as it appears in empirical consciousness. Pure consciousness, de­

termined and delimited in various ways, yields empirical conscious­
ness, and the two are thus distinguished merely by their limitations:
take away the limits of the empirical, and you have the absolute self
that we are presently talking about. —Pure self-consciousness is an
act lying outside time, and by which all time is first constituted; em­
pirical consciousness is that which arises merely in time and the suc­
cession of presentations.
The question whether the self is a thing-in-itself or an appear­
ance is itself intrinsically absurd. It is not a thing at all, neither
thing-in-itself nor appearance.
The dilemma proposed in answer to this, that everything must
be either something or nothing, etc., is based on an ambiguity in the
concept <something,. If ^omething^ is without exception to mean some­
thing real, in contrast to the merely imagina/yt then the self must cer­
tainly be something real, since it is the principle of all reality. But it is
equally clear that, just because it is the principle of all reality, it can­
not be real in the same sense as that which enjoys a merely derivative
reality. The reality taken by our critics to be the only true one, that of
things, is simply borrowed, and merely a reflection of the higher real­
ity in question. —Seen in its true light, the dilemma thus amounts to
this: everything is either a thing or nothing; which can straightway
be seen to be false, since there is assuredly a higher concept than that
of a thing, namely the concept of doing, or activity.
This concept must certainly be higher than that of a thing, since
things themselves are to be understood merely as modifications of an
activity limited in various ways. —The being of things assuredly does
not consist in mere rest or inactivity. For even all occupancy of space
is merely a degree of activity, and every thing merely a specific degree
of activity with which space is filled.
Since the self actually possesses none of the predicates that at­
tach to things, we have an explanation of the paradox that one cannot
say of the self that it exists. For one cannot say of the self that it ex­
ists, precisely because it is being-itself. The eternal, timeless act of
self-consciousness which we call self, is that which gives all things ex­
istence, and so itself needs no other being to support it; bearing and
supporting itself, rather, it appears objectively as eternal becoming,
and subjectively as a producing without limit.
3. Before moving on to establish the system itself, it
[376] Theoretical and Practical Philosophy 33

will be worthwhile to show how the principle could simultaneously

form the basis of both theoretical and practical philosophy, this being
self-evidently a necessary feature of the principle.
There is no possibility of our principle forming the basis of both
theoretical and practical philosophy if it be not itself at once theoreti­
cal and practical. Now since a theoretical principle is a theoremwhile
a practical one is a commandthere must lie something in the middle
between the two—and this is the postulate which borders on practical
philosophy, since it is simply a demand, and on theoretical, since its
demand is for a purely theoretical construction. Where the postulate
gets its coercive power from, is at once explained by the fact that it is
used for practical demands. Intellectual intuition is something that
one can demand and expect; anyone who lacks the capacity for such an
intuition ought at least to possess it.
4. Anyone who has followed us attentively thus far will perceive for
himself that the beginning and end of this philosophy is freedomy the
absolute indemonstrable, authenticated only through itself ―That
which in all other systems threatens the downfall of freedom is here
derived from freedom itself. —Being, in our system is merely freedom
suspended. In a system that treats being as primary and supreme, not
only must knowledge be reduced to the mere copy of a fundamental be­
ing, but all freedom likewise becomes merely a necessary deception,
since there is no knowledge of the principle, whose stirrings the seem­
ing manifestations of freedom are.
 PART TWO

General Deduction of Transcendental Idealism

Introductory

1. Idealism has already been formulated in our first principle. For

since the self, in being thought, immediately also exists (seeing that it
is nothing else but the thinking of itself), the proposition self = self is
equivalent to the proposition I amt whereas the proposition A = A says
only: if A is posited, it is posited equal to itself. The question, is it
then posited? simply cannot be asked of the self. Now if the proposi­
tion *1 am* is the principle of all philosophy, there cannot indeed be any
reality save what is equivalent to the reality of this proposition. But
the latter does not say that I exist for anything outside me, but only
that I am for myself. Hence everything that exists at all will be able to
do so only for the self, and there will be no other reality whatsoever.
2. The most general proof of the overall ideality of knowledge is there­
fore that carried out in the Science of Knowledge, by immediate infer­
ence from the proposition / am. There is yet another proof of it pos­
sible, however, namely the factual, which in a system of transcenden­
tal idealism is carried out in the very process of actually deducing the
entire system of knowledge from the principle in question. Now since
our concern here is not with a science of knowledge, but with the sys­
tem of knowledge itself, according to the principles of transcendental
idealism, we can therefore merely state the general result of the sci­
ence of knowledge, so that, starting from the point thus specified, we
may begin our deduction of the aforementioned system of knowledge.
3. We should proceed forthwith to the establishment of theoretical and
practical philosophy as such, were it not that this division itself re­
quires prior deduction by the science of knowledge, which is by nature
neither theoretical nor practical, but both of these at once. So we shall
first have to demonstrate the necessary opposition between theoretical
and practical philosophy—the proof, as given in the science of knowl­
edge, that they each presuppose one another, and that neither is pos­
sible without the other, in order that we may then erect upon these
general principles the system covering both.
The proof that all knowledge must be derived from the self,
and that there is no other ground for the reality of knowledge, contin­
ues to leave unanswered the question: how, then, is the entire system
of knowledge (e.g., the objective world with all its determinations,
history, etc.) posited through the self? It can be demonstrated,
[378-79] General Deduction, after Fichte 35

indeed, to the most obstinate dogmatist, that the world consists only in
presentations; but full conviction only comes upon a complete exhibition
of the mechanism of its emergence from the inner principle of mental
activity. For nobody, surely, who has once seen how the objective world,
with all its determinations, develops out of pure self-consciousness with­
out any affection from outside, will still find need for another world
independent of this; which is approximately the view taken in misinter­
pretations of the Leibnizian theory of preestablished harmony? But
before this mechanism is itself derived, the question arises, how we come
to assume such a mechanism in any case. In deriving it, we consider the
self as an utterly blind activity. We know that the self is originally mere
activity; but how do we come to posit it as blind activity? This determi­
nation must first be appended to the concept of activity. One might
make appeal here to the feeling of compulsion in our theoretical knowl­
edge, and then argue as follows: since the self is originally mere activ­
ity, the compulsion in question is to be construed merely as blind (me­
chanical) activity; but this, as an appeal to fact, is not permitted in a
science such as our own. On the contrary, the existence of this compul­
sion must first be deduced from the nature of the self as such. Moreover,
the question as to the ground of this compulsion presupposes an original
free activity, united with the tied activity in question. And so in fact it
is. Freedom is the one principle on which everything is supported, and
what we behold in the objective world is not anything present outside us,
but merely the inner limitation of our own free activity. Being as such is
merely the expression of an impeded freedom. It is our free activity,
therefore, that is fettered in knowledge. But then again we should have
no conception of an activity restricted, if there were not at the same time
an unrestricted activity within us. This necessary coexistence of a free
but limited, and an illimitable activity in one and the same identical
subject must, if it exists at all, be necessary, and the deduction of this
necessity appertains to that higher philosophy which is both theoretical
and practical at once.
If, therefore, the system of philosophy itself divides into theoreti­
cal and practical, there must be a general proof that already in its origin,
and in virtue of its concept, the self cannot be a restricted (albeit free)
activity without being at the same time an unrestricted one and vice
versa. This proof must itself precede both theoretical and practical phi­
losophy.
That this proof, of the simultaneous necessary coexistence of both

According to such a view, each single monad does indeed produce the
world from out of itself, yet the world still exists concurrently, independent of
the presentations; whereas on Leibniz's own view the world, insofar as it is
real, itself again consists merely of monads, so that in the last resort all reality
rests solely on powers of presentation after all.
36 System of Transcendental Idealism [380-81]

activities in the self, is a general proof of transcendental idealism as

such, will become clear from the proof itself.
The general proof of transcendental idealism will be made out
solely from the proposition derived in the foregoing: Through the act
of self-consciousness, the self becomes。几 object to itself.
In this proposition, two others can at once be discerned:
1. The self is intrinsically an object only for itself, and hence for noth­
ing external. If we suppose an influence upon the self from without, it
would have to be an object for some external thing. But for everything
external the self is nothing. So nothing external can operate upon the
self qua self.
2. The self becomes an object; hence it is not originally an object. We
pause at this proposition, in order to draw further conclusions from it.
a) If the self is not originally an object, it is the opposite of an
object. But now everything objective is a fixed and static thing which
can do nothing itself, but is merely the object of doing. Hence the self
is originally mere activity. —The concept of an object, moreover, in­
cludes the concept of something limited or restricted. In becoming an
object, everything objective ipso facto becomes finite. The self, there­
fore, is originally (beyond the objectivity posited in it through self-con­
sciousness) infinite—and s。is infinite activity.
b) If the self is originally infinite activity, it is therefore also the
ground—and inner principle, of all reality. For if a ground of reality
were to lie outside it, its inHnite activity would be initially restricted.
c) That this originally infinite activity (the inner principle of all
reality) should become an object for itself, and so finite and limited, is
the condition of self-consciousness. The question is, how this condition
can be thought? The self is originally a pure producing out towards
infinity, and in virtue of this alone it could never come to be a product.
Hence, in order to arise for itself (to be not merely the producing, but
also at the same the produced, as in self-consciousness), the self must
set limits to its producing.
d) But the self cannot limit its producing without opposing
something to itself.
Proof. In that the self limits itself as producing, it becomes
something to itself that is, it posits itself. But all positing is a deter­
minate positing. Yet all determining presupposes an absolute indeter­
minate (for example, every geometrical figure presupposes infinite
space), and so every determination is a blotting-out of absolute reality,
that is, negation.
However, negation of a positive cannot be done by mere priva­
tion, but only through real opposition (for example, 1 + 0 = 1, 1 - 1 = 0).
[381-82] General Deduction, after Fichte 37

Hence, in the concept of positing we also necessarily think the

concept of a counterpositing, and thus in the action of self-positing we
likewise have a positing of something opposed to the self; and only for
this reason is the act of self-positing at once both identical and syn­
thetic.
But this original something posited counter to the self arises
only through the action of self-positing, and in abstraction from this
act it is absolutely nothing.
The self is a completely self-enclosed world, a monad, which can­
not issue forth from itself, though nor can anything enter it either,
from without. So nothing counter posited (or objective) would ever
come into it, unless this too were posited simultaneously through the
original action of self-positing.
This counterposit (the not-self) cannot, therefore, again be the
ground for explaining that action whereby the self becomes finite for
itself. The dogmatist explains finitude of the self as an immediate con­
sequence of its restriction by an objective; the idealist, in virtue of his
principle, must turn the explanation round. The dogmatisfs explana­
tion does not perform what it promises. If, as he supposes, the self and
the objective had originally parceled out reality between them, as it
were, the self would not have originally been infinite, as it is, since it
only becomes finite through the act of self-consciousness. Since self­
consciousness is conceivable only as an act, it cannot be explained by
reference to something that makes conceivable only a passivity. Re­
gardless of the fact that the objective first arises for me through my
becoming finite, that the self first opens itself to objectivity through
the act of self-consciousness, that self and object are opposed like posi­
tive and negative quantities, and that only so much reality can there­
fore attach to the object as is canceled out in the self, the dogmatist
simply explains the limitation of the self as one would that of an ob-.
ject, that is, he explains limitation in and for itself, but not, however,
the knowledge of that fact. But the self as self is limited only in that it
intuits itself as such, for a self is simply and solely what it is for itself.
The dogmatist's explanation suffices to account for the fact of limita­
tion, but not for that of the self-intuition therein. The self is to be re­
stricted without ceasing to be a self、not for an intuitant outside it,
that is, but for itself. But now what is that self, for which the other is
to be restricted? Undoubtedly, an unrestricted self; thus the self is to
be limited without ceasing to be unlimited. The question is, how can
one think this?
That the self should be not only limited, but should
38 System of Transcendental Idealism [382-83]

also intuit itself as such, or that in becoming limited it should simulta­

neously be unlimited, is possible only in that it posits itself as limited,
itself gives rise to the limitation. For the self to bring about its own
limitation is equivalent to saying that it abolishes itself as absolute ac­
tivity, that is, it abolishes itself altogether. But this is a contradiction
that must be resolved if philosophy is not to contradict itself in its first
principles.
e) That the originally infinite activity of the self should limit it­
self, i.e., turn into a finite activity (in self-consciousness), is intelligible
only if it can be shown that the self qua self can be unlimited only inso­
far as it is limited, and conversely, that it is limited as a self only inso^
far as i£ is unlimited.
f) In this proposition two others are contained.
A. The self is unlimited as a self only in that it is limited.
The question is, how such a thing can be conceived of.
aa). The self is everything that it is, only for itself. That it is
infinite means, therefore, that it is so for itself If we posit for a mo­
ment that the self is infinite, but without being so for itself, there
would indeed be an infinite, but it would not be a self. (Picture this re­
mark by means of the image of infinite space, which is an infinite
without being a self, and which represents, as it were, the self dis・
persed^ the self without reflection.)
bb). That the self is infinite for itself means that it is so for its
self-intuition. But in intuiting itself, the self becomes finite. This con­
tradiction is soluble only if the self in this finitude becomes infinite to
itself, i.e., if it intuits itself as an infinite becoming,
cc). But a becoming is unthinkable save under a condition of
limitation. If we fancy an infinitely producing activity as expanding
without resistance, it will produce with infinite speed; its product is a
being, not a becoming. So the condition of all becoming is limitation or
restraint.
dd). However, the self is to be not only a becomingt but an infi­
nite becoming. To be a becoming it must be restricted. To be an infi­
nite becoming its boundary must be abolished. [If the producing activ­
ity does not push on beyond its product (its boundary), the product is
not productive, that is, it is no becoming. But if the production is com­
pleted at any specific point, and the boundary thus abolished (for it op­
erates only as a counter to the activity that pushes on beyond it), then
the producing activity was not infinite.] Thus the boundary
[383-85] General Deduction, after Fichte 39

is to be abolished and at the same time not abolished. Abolished^ so

that the becoming shall be an infinite one; not abolished, so that it
shall never cease to be a becoming.
ee). This contradiction can be resolved only through the inter­
mediary concept of an infinite extension of the boundary. The bound­
ary is abolished for every specific point, yet it is not abolished abso­
lutely, but merely thrust out into infinity.
Boundedness (extended to infinity) is thus the condition under
which alone the self as self can be infinite.
The boundedness of this infinite is thus immediately posited
through its selfhood, i.e., through the fact it is not merely an infinite,
but at the same time a self, that is, an infinite for itself.
B. The self is limited only through the fact that it is unlimited.
Suppose a limit assigned to the self, without its concurrence,
and let this limit fall at any desired point C. If the selfs activity does
not reach this point or only just reaches it, it constitutes no limit for
the self. But one cannot assume the selfs activity to reach only just
up to point C, unless that self be originally active into the indetermi­
nate, that is, to infinity. Thus point C only exists for the self as such
inasmuch as the latter pushes out beyond it; but beyond this point lies
infinity, for between the self and infinity lies nothing except this point.
Hence the infinite striving of the self is itself the condition under
which it is limited, that is, its unboundedness is the condition of its be­
ing bounded.
g) From the two propositions A and B we draw further conclu­
sions, as follows:
aa). We could deduce the bounded character of the self only as a con­
dition of its unboundedness. But now the boundary is a condition of
unboundedness only inasmuch as it is extended into infinity. But the
self cannot extend the boundary without acting upon it, and cannot act
upon it unless the boundary exists independently of this action. Hence
the boundary becomes real, only through the assault of the self against
it. If the self did not direct activity against this boundary, it would be
no bound for the self, that is (since it can only be posited negatively^ in
relation to the self), it would be nothing at all.
The activity directed against the boundary is, by the proof of B,
no other than the original, infinite extending, activity of the self, that
is, that very activity which alone attaches to the se\( beyond self con­
sciousness.
bb). But now although this original infinite activity explains how
the boundary may become real, it does not
40 System of Transcendental Idealism [385-86]

explain how it may also become ideal, that is, it certainly explains the
fact that the self is limited as such, but not its knowledge of that limi­
tation, or its being limited for itself.
cc). But now the boundaty must be at once real and ideal. Real, that
is, independent of the self, since otherwise the latter is not genuinely
bounded; ideals dependent on the self, since otherwise the self does not
posit or intuit itself as limited. Both claims, that the boundary is real,
and also that it is merely ideal, are to be deduced from self-conscious­
ness. Self-consciousness says that the self is limited for itself; in order
that it be limited, the boundary must be independent of the activity so
confined; in order that it be limited for itself, the boundary must de­
pend on the self. The conflict between these claims is therefore soluble
only through an opposition obtaining in selSconsciousness itself. That
the boundary is dependent on the self means that the latter contains
another activity besides the one limited, which the boundary must be
independent of. So besides that infinitely outreaching activity which
we wish to call real, since it alone is really limitable, there must be an­
other in the self, which we may term the ideal activity. The boundary
is real for the infinitely outreaching, or—since this very activity is to
be limited in self-consciousness—for the objective activity of the self,
and ideal, therefore, for an opposing, nonobjective, intrinsically illimit­
able activity, which must now be more exactly described.
dd). Apart from these two activities, one of which we simply postulate
from the outset as necessary to explain the boundedness of the self, no
other factors of selfconsciousness are given. The second, ideal or non­
objective, activity must therefore be such that through it are given si­
multaneously the grounds both of the limitation of the objective activ­
ity, and of the knowledge that it is so limited. Now since the ideal ac­
tivity is originally posited merely as the intuitant (subjective) of the
other, so as to explain thereby the limitation of the self as self, to be in­
tuited and to be limited must, for the latter, objective, activity, be one
and the same. This must find its explanation in the basic character of
the self. The latter activity, if it is to be activity of a self, must simul*
taneously be limited and intuited as limited, for in this very identity of
being intuited and of being lies the nature of the self. In that the real
activity is limited, it must also be intuited, and in that it is intuited, it
must also be limited; and both must be absolutely one.
ee). Both activities, the real and the ideal, mutually
[386-87] General Deduction, after Fichte 41

presuppose each other. The real, originally striving into infinity, but
to be limited for the sake of self-consciousness, is nothing without the
ideal, for which, in its limitation, it is infinite (by dd). Conversely, the
ideal activity is nothing without the to-be-intuited, the limitable, and,
on that very account, the real.
From this reciprocal presupposition of the two activities, for the
sake of self-consciousness, the entire mechanism of the self will have
to be derived.
fl). Just as the two activities reciprocally presuppose each other, so
also do idealism and realism. If I reflect merely upon the ideal activity,
there arises for me idealism, or the claim that the boundary is posited
solely by the self. If I reflect merely upon the real activity, there
arises for me realism, or the claim that the boundary is independent of
the self. If I reflect upon the two together, a third view arises from
both, which may be termed ideal-realism^ or what we have hitherto
designated by the name of transcendental idealism.
gg). In theoretical philosophy we explain the ideality of the boundary
(or how the limitation, originally existing only for free action, becomes
limitation for knowledge); practical philosophy has to explain the real­
ity of the boundary (or how the limitation, which is initially a purely
subjective one, becomes objective). Theoretical philosophy is therefore
idealism, practical philosophy realism, and only the two together con­
stitute the complete system of transcendental idealism.
Just as idealism and realism mutually presuppose each other, so
also do theoretical and practical philosophy; and in the self as such
there is initial union and combination of what we must hereafter sepa­
rate, for the sake of the system now to be established.
 PART THREE
System of Theoretical Philosophy according to the
Principles of Transcendental Idealism
Introductory

1. The self-consciousness we start from is an absolute act, and by this

one act is posited, not only the self itself, with all its determinations,
but also, as is sufficiently evident from the preceding part, everything
else as well that is posited at all for the self. Our first concern in theo­
retical philosophy will therefore be the deduction of this absolute act.
But in order to discover the full content of this act we are
obliged to take it apart and split it up, as it were, into a number of in­
dividual acts. These latter will be mediating elements in that one ab­
solute synthesis.
From these individual acts, taken all together, we can, as it
were, have successively presented to our eyes what is posited simulta­
neously and at once in the one absolute synthesis in which they are all
incorporated.
The procedure of this deduction is as follows:
The act of self-consciousness is ideal and real, simultaneously
and throughout. By means of it, what is posited as real is also imme­
diately posited as ideal, and what is posited as ideal is likewise posited
as real. This thoroughgoing identity of ideal and real positedness in
the act of self-consciousness can only be presented in philosophy as
arising in succession. This takes place in the following manner.
The concept we start from is that of the self, that is, of the sub­
ject-object, to which we elevate ourselves through absolute freedom.
Through this act there is now, for us who philosophize, something pos­
ited in the self qua object^ but hence not yet posited therein qua sub­
ject (for the self as such, what is posited as real is in one and the same
act also posited as ideal); our enquiry will therefore have to go on until
what is posited for us in the self qua object is also posited for us in the
self qua subject, that is, until for us the consciousness of our object co­
incides with our own consciousness, and thus until the self itself has
for us arrived at the point from which we started.
This procedure is necessarily carried out by means of our object,
and by our endeavor, since subject and object—which are absolutely
united in the absolute act of self-consciousness—must be constantly
kept distinct for purposes of philosophizing, that is, in order to allow
this unification to take place before our eyes.
[389-90] Deduction of Absolute Synthesis 43

2. In accordance with the foregoing, the enquiry will divide into two
parts. First we shall derive the absolute synthesis contained in the act
of self-consciousness, and afterwards must seek out the mediating ele­
ments of the synthesis in question.

I Deduction of the Absolute Synthesis Contained in

the Act of Self-consciousness

1. We start from the proposition proved earlier, that the boundary

must be both ideal and real at once. If this is so, then, since an origi­
nal union of ideal and real is thinkable only in an absolute act, the
boundary must be posited by an act, and this act itself must be ideal
and real at once.
2. But such an act is to be found only in self-consciousness, and so all
limitation, even, must first be posited through self-consciousness, and
given along with it.
a) The original act of self-consciousness is at once ideal and
real. Self-consciousness is in principle purely ideal, but through it the
self arises for us as purely real. Through the act of self-intuition the
self also immediately becomes limited; to be intuited and to be are one
and the same.
b) The boundary is posited through self-consciousness alone,
and thus has no other reality than what it obtains through self-con­
sciousness. This act is the higher, and the fact of limitation derives
from it. For the dogmatist, boundedness comes first, and self-con­
sciousness second. This is unthinkable, for self-consciousness is an
ac£, and the boundary, to be a boundary of the self, must be simulta­
neously dependent on, and independent of, the self. This is conceiv­
able (Sec. II) only if the self is equivalent to an action in which there
are two opposite activities^ one which undergoes limitation, and of
which the boundary is therefore independent, and one which limits,
and is for that very reason illimitable.
3. This action is, of course, self-consciousness. Beyond self-conscious­
ness the self is pure objectivity. This pure objective (nonobjective
originally, precisely because an objective without a subjective is
impossible) is the one and only in4tself there is. Only through self­
consciousness is subjectivity first added thereto. To this original,
purely objective activity, that is limited in consciousness, there
stands opposed the limiting activity, which cannot, on that very ac­
count, itself become an object. —To come to consciousness, and
44 System of Transcendental Idealism [390-92]

to be limited, are one and the same. Only that which is limited me-
ward, so to speak, comes to consciousness: the limiting activity falls
outside all consciousness, just because it is the cause of all limitation.
The fact of limitation must appear as independent of me, since I can
discern only my own limitedness, never the activity whereby it is pos­
ited.
4. This distinction between limiting and delimited activity being ac­
cepted, neither of the two, the limiting or the limited activity, is what
we call the self. For the self exists only in self-consciousness, but
through neither of these two, taken in isolation, does the self of self­
consciousness arise for us.
a) The limiting activity does not come to consciousness, or be­
come an object, and is therefore the activity of the pure subject. But
the self of self-consciousness is not the pure subject, but subject and
object together.
b) The limited activity is merely that which becomes an object,
the purely objective element in self-consciousness. But the self of self­
consciousness is neither pure subject nor pure object, but both of these
at once.
Thus neither through the limiting nor the limited activities, by
themselves, do we arrive at self-consciousness. There is} accordingly,
a third activity, compounded of these two, whereby the self of self-con­
sciousness is engendered.
5. It is this third activity, oscillating between the limited and the lim­
iting, whereby the self is first engendered; and, since the producing
and the being of the self are one, it is nothing other than the self of
self-consciousness itself.
The self is thus itself a compound activity, and self-conscious­
ness itself a synthetic act.
6. To define this third, synthetic activity more closely, we must first
do the same for the conflict of opposing activities from which it is born.
a) This conflict is a conflict of activities originally opposed, not
so much in subject as in direction, for both are activities of one and
the same self The origin of these two directions is this. —The self has
an urge to produce the infinite, and this tendency must be thought of
as directed outwards (as centrifugal), but it is not distinguishable as
such without an activity regressively directed inwards to the self as
center. The outgoing, by nature infinite activity is the objective in
the self; the self-reverting activity is nothing else but the striving to
intuit oneself in that infinitude. Through this action as such, the
inner and the outer are divided within the self, and with their
separation is posited a conflict in the self that only the necessity of
self-consciousness can explain. Why the self should
[392-93] Deduction of Absolute Synthesis 45

have originally to become aware of itself, is not further explicable, for

it is nothing else but self-consciousness. But within that self-con­
sciousness a clash of opposing directions is necessary.
The self of self-consciousness is that which pursues these oppos­
ing directions. It consists merely in this conflict, or rather, it is itself
the clash of opposing directions. As surely as the self is aware of itself,
this conflict must arise and be maintained. The question is, how is it
maintained.
Two opposing directions cancel out and destroy one another;
their conflict, it would seem therefore, cannot persist. The result
would be absolute inactivity, for since the self is nothing but the striv­
ing to be self-identical, the one ground that determines it to activity is
a persistent contradiction within itself. But now every contradiction is
self-destructive, in and for itself. No contradiction can survive, unless
it be that through the very effort to maintain or entertain it, by this
third factor itself, there comes about a sort of identity, a mutual inter­
relation of the two opposing elements therein.
The original contradiction in the selfs own nature can neither
be abolished, without abolition of the self itself, nor can it endure in
and for itself. It will persist only through the necessity of doing so,
that is, through the striving that results therefrom, to maintain it, and
thereby bring identity into it.
(It can already be concluded from the foregoing that the identity
expressed in self-consciousness is not an original identity but a created
and mediated one. What is original is the conflict of opposing direc­
tions in the self; the identity is the resultant of this. Originally, in­
deed, we are conscious only of identity, but enquiry into the conditions
of self-consciousness has served to show that such identity can only be
a mediated, synthetic one).
The highest of which we are conscious is the identity of subject
and object, yet this is in itself impossible, and can be such only
through a third, mediating factor. Since self-consciousness is a duality
of directions, the mediating factor must be an activity that wavers be・
tween opposing directions.
b) So far we have been considering the two activities only in re­
gard to their opposing directions, and it is still undecided whether
both are alike in being infinite, or not. But since in advance of self­
consciousness there is no ground for positing either one or the other as
finite, the conflict between the two (for that they do indeed exist, has
just been demonstrated) will also be an infinite one. So the conflict
will likewise be capable of unification, not in a single action, but only
46 System of Transcendental Idealism [393-94]

in an infinite series of actions. Now since we conceive the identity of

self-consciousness (the uniting of this conflict) in the one action of self­
consciousness, there must be an infinity of actions contained in this
one action; it must, that is, be an absolute synthesis, and if everything
is posited for the self only through its own acting, a synthesis whereby
everything is posited that is posited at all for the self.
How the self is driven to this absolute action, or how it is pos­
sible for an infinity of actions to be condensed into a single absolute
one, is intelligible only as follows.
The self contains fundamental opposites, namely subject and ob­
ject; they cancel one another outt and yet neither is possible without
the other. The subject asserts itself only in opposition to the object,
and the object only in opposition to the subject; neither, that is, can be­
come real without destroying the other, but the point of destruction of
one by the other can never be reached, precisely because each is what
it is only in opposition to the other. Both have therefore to be united,
for neither can destroy the other, and yet nor can they subsist to­
gether. The conflict, therefore, is not so much a conflict between the
two factors, as between the inability, on the one hand, to unite the in­
finite opposites, and the necessity of doing so, on the other, if the iden­
tity of self-consciousness is not to be blotted out. This very feet, that
subject and object are absolute opposites, puts the self under the ne­
cessity of condensing an infinity of actions into a single absolute one.
If there were no opposition in the self, it would contain no movement
at all, no production, and hence no product either. If the opposition
were not absolute, the unifying activity would likewise not be absolute,
would not be a necessary and involuntary one.
7. The progression, so far deduced, from an absolute antithesis to an
absolute synthesis, can now be presented also in an entirely formal
fashion. If we conceive the objective self (the thesis) as absolute real-
ityt its opposite will have to be absolute negation. But absolute reality,
just because it is absolute, is no reality, and both opposites are thus in
their opposition merely ideal. If the self is to be real, that is} to become
an object to itself, reality must be blotted out in it, that is, it must
cease to be absolute reality. But by the same token, if the opposite is
to become real, it must cease to be absolute negation. If both are to be­
come real, they must, as it were, share out reality between them. But
this division of reality between the two, the subjective and the objec­
tive, is possible no otherwise than through a third activity of the self,
[394-96] The Absolute Act both Free and Necessary 47

that wavers between them, and this third activity is again not possible
unless both opposites are themselves activities of the self.
This advance from thesis to antithesis, and from thence to syn­
thesis, is therefore originally founded in the mechanism of the mind,
and so far as it is purely formal (as in scientific method, for example),
is abstracted from this original, material sequence established in tran­
scendental philosophy.

II Deduction of the Middle Terms of the

Absolute Synthesis

Introductory

For purposes of this deduction, the following data are given to us

through what has gone before.
1. Self-consciousness is the absolute act, through which every­
thing is posited for the self.
Under this act we do not include, say, the free creations postu­
lated by the philosopher, which represent a higher order of the origi­
nal activity; we refer, rather, to that original activity which, since it is
the condition of all limitation and consciousness, does not itself come
to consciousness. The first question to arise is, what sort of act this
may be, and whether it be voluntary or involuntary? Neither descrip­
tion can in fact be given to this act; for these concepts only apply
within the sphere of what is explicable as such; an action that is vol­
untary or involuntary already presupposes limitation (or conscious­
ness). The action that is cause of a limitation, and can no longer be ex­
plained by any other, must be absolutely free. But absolute freedom is
identical with absolute necessity. If we could imagine an action in
God, for example, it would have to be absolutely free, but this absolute
freedom would simultaneously be absolute necessity, since in God we
can think of no law or action that does not spring from the inner ne­
cessity of His nature. Such an act is the original act of self-conscious­
ness; absolutely free, since it is determined by nothing outside the self;
absolutely necessary, since it proceeds from the inner necessity of the
nature of the self.
But the question now arises as to how the philosopher assures
himself of this original act, or knows about it. He obviously does
not do so immediately, but only by inference. I discover, that is,
through philosophy, that only through such an act am I generated
for myself at every instant, and conclude, therefore, that only
through such an act can I likewise have come into being
48 System of Transcendental Idealism [396-97]

in the first place. I find that the consciousness of an objective world is

implied in every moment of my consciousnessl and conclude* therefore,
that something objective must already enter from the beginning into
the synthesis of self-consciousness, and must again issue from the lat­
ter in its developed form.
But now given that the philosopher assures himself of this act
qua act, how does he ascertain its specific content? Undoubtedly by
the free imitation of this act, with which all philosophy begins. But
then how does he know this secondary, arbitrary act to be identical
with the original and absolutely free one? For if it is through self-con­
sciousness that all limitation originates, and thus all time as well, this
original act cannot itself occur in time; hence, of the rational being as
such, one can no more say that it has begun to exist, than that it has
existed for all time; the self as self is absolutely eternal, that is, outside
time altogether. But now our secondary act necessarily occurs at a
particular moment in time, and so how does the philosopher know this
act, occurring in the middle of the time-series, to be coincident with
that wholly extratemporal act whereby all time is first constituted?—
The self, once transposed into time, consists in a steady passage from
one presentation to the next; yet it remains, after all, within its power
to interrupt this series by reflection. The absolute interruption of the
succession is the beginning of all philosophizing, and from now on
what was previously an involuntary succession becomes a voluntary
one. But how does the philosopher know that this act which has en­
tered by irruption into the series of his presentations is the same with
that original act whereby the entire series begins?
Anyone who perceives at all that the self arises only through its
own acting, will also perceive that, through the arbitrary action in
midst of the time-series whereby alone the self arises, nothing else can
arise for me save what comes about for me originally and beyond all
time. And besides that, indeed, this original act of self-consciousness
continues all along, for the whole series of my presentations consists in
nothing else but the evolution of that one synthesis. Hence it is that
at every moment I can come to be for myself, exactly as I come origi­
nally to be for myself. What I am, I am only through my acting (for I
am absolutely free); but through this specific act it is always just the
self that arises for me, and thus I must conclude that it also comes
about originally through the same act.
A general reflection, connected with the foregoing, may
find its place here. If philosophy's first construction is the
imitation of an original, all its
[397-98] History of Self-consciousness 49

constructions will likewise be merely such imitations. So long as the

self is apprehended in its original evolution of the absolute synthesis,
there is only one series of acts, that of the origixial and necessary acts
of the self; as soon as I interrupt this evolution, and freely project my­
self back to its starting-point, there arises for me a new series, in
which what was necessary in the first series is now free. The former is
the original, the latter the copy or imitation. If the second series con­
tains no more and no less than the first, the imitation is perfect, and a
true and complete philosophy is engendered. In the opposite case, the
result is a false and incomplete one.
Philosophy as such is therefore nothing else but the free imita­
tion, the free recapitulation of the original series of acts into which the
one act of self-consciousness evolves. In relation to the second, the
first series is real, while the second is ideal in regard to the first. It
seems unavoidable that an element of choice should enter into the sec­
ond series, for it is freely begun and continued, but the choice should
be merely formal, and not determine the content of the act.
Philosophy, since its object is the original genesis of conscious­
ness, is the sole science in which this twofold series occurs. In every
other science there is but one series. Now philosophical talent does
not in fact consist merely in the capacity for freely repeating the series
of original acts; it lies chiefly in again becoming aware, in the course of
this free repetition, of the original necessity of those acts.
2. Self-consciousness (the self) is a conflict of absolutely opposed
activities. The one that originally reaches out into infinity we shall
call the real, objective, limitable activity; the other, the tendency to in­
tuit oneself in that infinity, is called the ideal, subjective, illimitable
activity.
3. Both activities are originally posited as equally infinite.
Through the ideal activity (which reflects the first) we already have a
ground for positing the limitable activity as finite. So how the ideal
activity can be limited is therefore the first thing to be derived. The
act of self-consciousness, from which we start, at first tells us only how
the objective activity is limited, not the subjective; and since the latter
is posited as the ground of all limitation of the objective, it is for that
very reason posited, not as originally unlimited (and so limitable like
the other) but as absolutely illimitable. If the activity posited as origi­
nally unlimited, but therefore limitable, is free as to matter but re­
stricted as to form, so this one, originally posited as illimitable, will for
50 System of Transcendental Idealism [398-99]

that very reason, if limited, be unfree as to matter and free only as to

form. This illimitability of the ideal activity is the basis of all construc­
tion in theoretical philosophy; in practical philosophy the relationship
may well be reversed.
4. Since, therefore (by 2 and 3), there is an infinite conflict in
self-consciousness, the one absolute act we start from contains—united
and condensed—an infinity of actions whose total enumeration forms
the content of an infinite task; (if it were ever to be completely accom­
plished, the whole structure of the objective world, and every determi­
nation of nature down to the infinitely small, would have to be re­
vealed to us). So philosophy can enumerate only those actions which
constitute epochs, as it were, in the history of self-consciousness, and
establish them in their interrelations with one another. (Thus sensa­
tion, for example, is an action of the self which, if all its intermediate
elements could be set forth, would be bound to lead us to a deduction
of all the qualities in nature, which is impossible.)
Philosophy is thus a history of self-consciousness, having vari­
ous epochs, and by means of it that one absolute synthesis is succes­
sively put together.
5. The progressive principle in this history is the ideal activity,
presupposed as illimitable. The task of theoretical philosophy, to ex­
plain the ideality of the boundary, is equivalent to that of explaining
how even the ideal activity, hitherto assumed to be illimitable, can in
fact be limited.
 FIRST EPOCH: From Original Sensation to Productive Intuition

Problem: To explain how the self comes to intuit itself as limited

Solution

1. Inasmuch as the opposing activities of self-consciousness merge in a

third, there arises a common product of them both.
The question is, what character will this common product have?
Since it is the outcome of opposing infinite activities, it will necessarily
be finite. It is not the conflict of these activities conceived of as in mo­
tion; it is a static conflict. It unites opposing tendencies, but a union of
such opposites is equivalent to rest. Yet it has to be something real,
for the opposites, which prior to synthesis are merely ideal, are to be­
come real by means of it. It has therefore to be thought of, not as an
annihilation of the two activities by each other, but rather as an equi­
librium to which they reduce one another, and whose continuance is
conditioned by the persistent rivalry between the two.
[The product could thus be characterized either as really inac­
tive, or as inactively real. That which is real without being active is
mere stuff, a mere product of imagination, which never exists without
form, and emerges even here as no more than a middle term of the en­
quiry. —The unintelligibility of the gestation (creation) of matter, even
as stuff, is already dissipated by the explanation given here. All stuff
is simply the expression of an equilibrium between opposing activities,
which mutually reduce themselves to a mere substrate of activity.
(Compare the lever, for example; the two weights merely act upon the
fulcrum, which is thus the common substrate of their activity.) ―This
substrate, moreover, does not arise voluntarily, as it were, through
free production but completely involuntarily, by means of a third activ­
ity, which is no less necessary than the identity of self-consciousness.]
This third common factor, if it persisted, would in fact be a con­
struction of the self as sucht not in its capacity as a mere object, but as
subject and object at once. [In the original act of self-consciousness the
self strives to become just a sheer object to itself, but this it cannot do
without (for the observer) becoming, in that very process, a duality.
52 System of Transcendental Idealism [400-1]

This opposition must resolve itself into a common construction out of

both, the subject and the object. Now if the self intuited itself in this
construction, it would become an object for itself, no longer merely qua
object, but qua subject and object together (as a complete self).]
2. But this common factor does not endure.
a) Since the ideal activity is itself a party to this conflict, it must
also be limited along with it. The two activities cannot be related to
each other, nor merge in a common product, without being mutually
restricted each by the other. For the ideal activity not only denies (or
is privative) of the other, but is its real opposite or negation. It is (so
far as we see at present) positive like the other, but in the opposite
sense, and so no less capable than the other of restriction, too.
b) But the ideal activity has been posited as absolutely illimit­
able, and so cannot in fact be genuinely limited, and since the persis­
tence of the common product is governed by the rivalry of the two ac­
tivities (1.), the common product cannot endure either.
[If the self halted at this first construction, or if the common
product were really able to endure, the self would be inanimate na­
ture, without sensation or intuition. That nature rears itself up from
dead matter to sensibility is explicable in natural science (for which
the self is merely nature creating itself anew) only by the very fact
that even there the product of the first cancellation of the two oppo­
sites is unable to endure.]
3. We said above (1.), that if the self were to intuit itself in this com­
mon product, it would have a complete intuition of itself (as subject
and object); but this intuition is impossible, if only because the intuit­
ing activity is itself included in the construction. But since the self is
an infinite tendency to self-intuition, it is easy to see that the intuiting
activity cannot remain implicated in the construction. From this
merger of the two activities, it is only the real, therefore, that will re­
main behind as limited, whereas the ideal will continue as absolutely
unlimited.
4. Thus the real activity is limited by the mechanism adduced, though
without yet being so for the self as such. The method of theoretical
philosophy requires that what is posited (for the observer) in the real
self shall also be deduced for the ideal self; and the whole enquiry ac­
cordingly turns to the question, how the real self can also be limited
for the ideal self. At this point the problem is to explain how the self
comes to intuit itself as limited.
a) The real and now limited activity is to be
[401-3] Self-intuition under Limitation 53

posited as an activity of the self, that is, a ground of identity must be

pointed out between it and the self. Since this activity has to be attrib­
uted to the self, and thus at the same time distinguished therefrom, it
must also be possible to point out a ground of distinction between the
two.
What we speak of here as the self is merely the ideal activity.
The grounds of relation and distinction must therefore be sought in
one of the two activities. Such grounds, however, always lie in the
relatum; but here the ideal activity is at the same time that which re­
lates, so it is in the real activity that they must be sought.
The distinguishing ground of the two activities is the limit pos­
ited in the real activity, for the ideal is the absolutely illimitable, while
the real is now the limited. The relating ground of both must likewise
be sought in the real, i.e., there must actually be something ideal con­
tained therein. The question is how we can think this. The two are
distinguishable only by means of the limit, for even their opposing di­
rections are distinguishable only in this way. If the limit be unposited,
the self contains pure identity, in which nothing can be distinguished.
If the limit be posited, it contains two activities, the limiting and the
limited, the subjective and the objective. The two have therefore one
thing at least in common, that originally both are absolutely nonobjec­
tive, that is, since we are as yet acquainted with no other characteris­
tic of the ideal, both are equally ideal.
b) Taking this to be so} we may conclude further, as follows.
The ideal activity, till now unlimited, is the infinite tendency of
the self to become an object to itself in the real activity. By means of
what is ideal in the real activity (what it turns into an activity of the
self)t it can be related to the ideal, and the self can intuit itself therein
(the first time the self comes to be an object for itself).
But the self cannot intuit the real activity as identical with it­
self, without at once finding the negative element therein, which
makes it nonideal, as something alien to itself. The positive factor,
which makes both into activities of the self, they possess in common,
but the negative belongs to the real alone; insofar as the intuiting self
perceives in the objective the positive factor, intuitant and intuited are
one; insofar as it finds there the negative, finder and found are no
longer one. The finder is the absolutely illimitable and unlimited; it is
the limited that is found.
The limit itself appears to be something abstracted
54 System of Transcendental Idealism [403-4]

from what can and cannot be posited; it seems contingent. The posi­
tive element in the real activity appears as that from which one cannot
abstract. The limit, for that very reason, can appear only as some­
thing found, i.e., foreign to the self and opposed to its nature.
The self is the absolute ground of all positing. For something to
be opposed to the self means, therefore, that something is posited
which is not posited through the self. The intuitant must therefore
find in the intuited something (the limitation) which is not posited
through the self as intuitant.
(Here for the first time we may perceive very clearly the differ­
ence between the philosopher's standpoint and that of his object. We,
who philosophize, know that the limitation of the objective has its sole
ground in the intuitant or subjective. The intuiting self as such does
not and cannot know this, as now becomes clear. Intuiting and limit­
ing are originally one. But the self cannot simultaneously intuit and
intuit itself as intuiting, and so cannot intuit itself as limiting either.
It is therefore necessary that the intuitant, which seeks only itself in
the objective, should find the negative element therein to be something
not posited by itself. If the philosopher likewise maintains this to be
the case (as in dogmatism), this is because he continually coalesces
with his object and shares with it the same point of view.)
The negative element is encountered as not posited by the sel£
and is for this very reason that which can in principle only be found
(and which is subsequently transformed into the merely empirical).
That the self finds its limitation to be something not of its own
positing, amounts to saying that the self finds it posited by something
opposed to itself, namely, the not-self. Thus the self cannot intuit itself
as limited, without intuiting this limitation as an affection on the part
of a not-self.
The philosopher who remains fixed at this standpoint can offer
no other explanation for sensation (for it is self-evident that self-intu­
ition in limitation, as so far derived, is none other than what in ordi­
nary parlance is called sensation), save that it comes about through
affection by a thing-in-itself. Since sensation gives rise only to the
determinacy among presentations, he will also be explainingjust
this as due to the said affection. For that in presentation the self
merely takes，几，and is pure receptivity, he cannot maintain, owing
to the spontaneity involved therein, and indeed because even in
the things themselves (as presented), there emerges the unmistakable
trace of an activity of the self. The influence in question will
therefore originate, not from things as we present them
[404-5] Sensation 55

to ourselves, but from things as they are independently of the presenta­

tions. So what is spontaneous in presentation will be regarded as be­
longing to the self, and what is receptive will be attributed to things-in-
themselves. By the same token, what is positive in objects will be
viewed as a product of the self, and what is negative (the accidental) as
a product of the not-self.
That the self should find ^seZ/" restricted by some thing opposed to
it, has been derived from the mechanism of sensation itself. It is a con­
sequence of this, however, that everything accidental (everything per­
taining to limitation) must appear to us as the inconstructible, inca­
pable of explanation in terms of the self, whereas the positive in things
can be understood as a construction on the part of the self. However,
the proposition that the self (our object) finds itself limited by an oppo­
site is restricted by the fact that after all the self finds this opposite only
in itself.
The claim is not that there is in the self something absolutely op­
posed to it, but that the self finds something in itself to be absolutely op­
posed to it. That the opposite is in the self, means that it is absolutely
opposed to the self; that the selffinds something to be opposed to it,
means that it is opposed to the self only with respect to its finding, and
the manner thereof; and so indeed it is.
The finder is the infinite tendency to self-intuition, wherein the
self is purely ideal and absolutely illimitable. That in tvhich finding
takes place is not the pure but the affected self. Finder and finding-
place are thus themselves opposed. What is found there is for the
finder, but only so far as it is the finder, something foreign to it.
To put the matter more plainly. The self as infinite tendency to
self-intuition finds in itself as the intuited, or, what comes to the same
thing (since intuited and intuitant are not distinguished in this act),
finds in itself something alien to it. But what, then, is found (or felt) in
this finding? The felt, or sensed, is in fact again only the self itsel£ Ev­
erything sensed is immediately present and absolutely unmediated, as
is already implicit in the concept of sensation. The self indeed finds
something opposed, but this latter, after all, is only in itself. But the
self contains nothing but activity; so nothing can be opposed to the self
save the negation of activity. For the self to find something opposed
within it means, therefore, that it finds in itself a suspension of activity.
—When sensing, we never sense the object; no sensation gives us a con­
cept of an object—it is the absolute opposite of conception (of action),
and thus a negation of activity. The inference from this negation
56 System of Transcendental Idealism [405-6]

to an object as its cause is a much later step, whose grounds can again
be shown to lie in the self itself.
Now if the self always senses only its own suspended activity,
the sensed is nothing distinct from the self; the latter is merely sens­
ing itself, a fact to which ordinary philosophical parlance has already
given expression, in that it speaks of the sensed as something purely
subjective.

Additional Remarks

1. The possibility of sensation rests, according to this deduction,

a) On the upset equilibrium of the two activities. —Thus even in
sensation the self cannot intuit itself already as a subject-object, but
only as a simple limited object, so that sensation is merely this intu­
ition of self in a state of limitation
b) On the infinite tendency of the ideal self to intuit itself in the
real. This is not possible, save by way of what the ideal activity (the
self is nothing else at present) and the real have in common with each
other, ie, the positive element in the latter; the opposite will thus
take place by means of the negative element therein. So the self, too,
will be able only to find, that is, sense, this negative element in itself.
2. The reality of sensation depends on the fact that the self does not
intuit the sensed as having been posited by itself. It is sensed only in­
sofar as the self intuits it as not posited by the self. So although ”e
can certainly see that the negative is posited by the self, our object, the
self, cannot see it, for the very natural reason that to be intuited and
to be limited by the self are one and the same. The self is (objectively)
limited in that it (subjectively) intuits itself; but now the self cannot si­
multaneously intuit itself objectively and intuit itself as intuiting, and
hence cannot intuit itself as limiting. Upon this impossibility, in the
original act of self-consciousness, of at once becoming an object to one­
self and of intuiting oneself as becoming such an object, the reality of
all sensation depends.
The delusive impression of the limitation as something abso­
lutely foreign to the self, to be explained only through affection on
the part of a not-self, therefore arises purely from this, that the act
whereby the self becomes limited is a different act from that whereby
it intuits itself as limited; not in time, to be sure, since everything that
we apprehend successively is simultaneous in the self, but certainly
different in nature.
 Possibility and Reality of Sensation 57

The act by which the self limits itself is none other than that of
self-consciousness, and to this we must confine ourselves, as the basis
for explanation of all limitation, if only because it is utterly inconceiv­
able how any affection from without can transform itself into a presen­
tation or into knowledge. Supposing, even, that an object were to act
upon the self as if upon an object, such an affection could still only
bring forth something homogeneous in every case, ie, again an objec­
tive determinacy merely. For the law of causality holds only between
things of the same sort (things of the same world), and does not extend
from one world to the other. So how a primordial being can transform
itself into knowledge, would be conceivable only if it could be shown
that even presentation was itself a kind of being; and in fact this is the
explanation offered by materialism, a system that would have to be
congenial to the philosopher if only it actually performed what it
promises. However, as materialism stands so far, it is altogether unin­
telligible, and as rendered intelligible, it no longer differs, in fact, from
transcendental idealism. —To explain thinking as a material phenom­
enon is possible only by turning matter itself into a phantom, the mere
modification of an intelligence, whose common functions are thought
and matter. Materialism itself thereby reverts to the intelligent as
that which is primary. To be sure, it is no less out of the question to
explain being from knowing by treating the former as the effect of the
latter; between the two there can be no causal relation whatsoever,
and the twain can never meet, unless they are originally one, as they
are in the self. Being (matter), regarded as productive, is a knowing,
and knowing regarded as a product is a being. If knowing is produc­
tive as such, it must be productive through and through, not in part
merely; nothing can enter into knowing from without, for everything
that exists is identical with knowing and there is nothing outside it. If
one factor in presentation resides in the self, the other must do like­
wise, for in the object both are inseparable. Supposing, for example,
that only stuff pertains to things, then before it reaches the self this
stuff must be without form, at least in the transition from thing to pre­
sentation, which is assuredly inconceivable.
But now if the original limitation is posited through the self
as such, how does the latter come to sense it, that is, envisage it as
something opposed to itself? Everything real about cognition
attaches to sensation, and a philosophy that cannot explain
sensation is already, on that very account, an abortive one. For
the truth of all cognition undoubtedly rests on the feeling of
compulsion which accompanies it. Being (objectivity)
58 System of Transcendental Idealism [408-9]

is always merely an expression of a limitation of the intuiting or pro­

ducing activity. There is a cube in this portion of space, means noth­
ing else but that in this part of space my intuition can be active only in
the form of a cube. The ground of all reality in cognition is thus the
ground of limitation independent of intuition. A system that abolishes
this ground would be a dogmatic transcendent idealism. Transcenden­
tal idealism is in part contested upon grounds which are valid only
against that form of it in which there is simply no seeing how it could
require refutation, or can ever have entered a human head. If it be a
dogmatic idealism to maintain that sensation is not explicable by im­
pressions from without, that presentation contains nothing, even of an
accidental kind, pertaining to a thing-in-itself, and that one cannot in
fact even think in rational terms of any such impression upon the self,
then this, at all events, is the idealism we profess. The reality of
knowledge would, however, only demolish an idealism which sought to
bring forth the original limitation freely and with consciousness,
whereas the transcendental version leaves us as little freedom in that
regard as even the realist could ever desire. It claims only that the
self never senses the thing itself (for nothing of the kind yet exists at
this stage), nor even anything passing from the thing into the self;
what it senses immediately is only itself, its own suspended activity.
Nor does our idealism omit to explain why the self is necessarily un­
aware of this, in that we intuit this restriction, posited only through
the ideal activity, as something wholly alien to the self.
This explanation is furnished in the proposition that the act
whereby the self is objectively limited is a different act from that
whereby it is limited for itself. The act of self-consciousness explains
only how the objective activity comes to be limited. But the self, inso­
far as it is ideal, consists in a boundless reproduction of itself (加s sui
reproductiva in. infinitum); the ideal activity knows of no limitation, in
lighting upon the original boundary; through it, therefore, the self
merely finds itself to be limited. The reason why the self finds itself
limited in this action cannot lie in the present action, but rather in one
that is past. So the self in its present action is limited without its con-
se几力，but that it finds itself so limited is also the whole of what is con­
tained in sensation, and is the condition of all objectivity in knowledge.
So in order that the limitation shall appear to us as a thing indepen­
dent of ourselves, provision is made for this purpose, through the
mechanism of sensation, that the act whereby all limitation is posited,
as the condition of all consciousness, does not itself come to conscious­
ness.
(409-10] Limitation through Self-Consciousness 59

3. All limitation arises for us only through the act of self-conscious­

ness. It is necessary to dwell somewhat further on this proposition,
since it is undoubtedly this which gives most trouble in what we have
to say.
The original necessity of becoming conscious of oneself, of re­
verting upon oneself, is already limitation, but it is limitation total and
complete.
We do not have a new limitation arising for every individual
presentation; with the synthesis contained in self-consciousness, limi­
tation is posited once and for all, and it is this one original limitation
within which the self constantly remains, from which it never
emerges, and which merely develops, in individual presentations, in
one way or another.
The difficulties encountered in this thesis are grounded, for the
most part, on a failure to distinguish between original and derived
limitation.
The original limitation, which we have in common with all ra-
tional beings, consists in the fact of our intrinsic finitude. In virtue of
this we are distinguished, not from other rational beings, but from the
infinite. But all limitation is necessarily determinate in nature; it is
unthinkable that a limitation should arise at all, without the simulta­
neous occurrence of a determinacy thereof; the determinate must
therefore arise as such through one and the same act as that of limita­
tion as such. The act of self-consciousness is an absolute synthesis; all
conditions of consciousness arise at once through this one act, and so
too does the determinate limitation, which is no less a condition of con­
sciousness than limitation as such.
That I am limited as such follows directly from the selfs
unending tendency to become an object to itself; limitation as such
is therefore explicable, but it leaves the determinacy entirely free,
even though both arise through one and the same act. Both taken
together, that the determinate limitation cannot be determined
through limitation as such, and yet that it arises along with the latter,
simultaneously and through one act, means that it is one thing that
philosophy can neither conceive nor explain. As surely, indeed, as I
am limited as such, I must be so determinately, and this determinacy
must reach into the infinite, for this infinitely outreaching
determinacy constitutes my entire individuality; it is not, therefore,
the fact that I am determinately limited which cannot be explained,
but rather the manner of this limitation itself. For example, it can
certainly be deduced in general that I belong to a determinate order
of intelligences, but not that I belong to precisely this order; that I
occupy a determinate position in this order, but not that it is precisely
this one. It can thus be deduced as necessary that there is in
60 System of Transcendental Idealism [410-11]

general a system of our presentations, but not that we are restricted to

this particular sphere of presentations. To be sure, if we already pre­
suppose the determinate limitation, the limitation of individual
presentations can be derived from this; the determinate limitation is
then merely that wherein we comprehend the limitation of all indi­
vidual presentations, and so can derive it again from them; for ex­
ample, if we once presuppose that this particular part of the universe,
and this particular planet therein, are the immediate sphere of our
outer intuition, then it can certainly be inferred that within this deter­
minate limitation these particular intuitions are necessary. For if we
could make comparison of our entire planetary system, we should un­
doubtedly be able to deduce why our earth is composed of precisely
these materials and no others, why it displays precisely these phenom­
ena and no others, and why, therefore, once this sphere of intuition is
presupposed, it is just these intuitions and no others that occur in the
series thereof. Having once been projected into this sphere through
the entire synthesis of our consciousness, nothing will be able to occur
therein which might contradict it, or be other than necessary. This
follows from the primordial consistency of our mind, which is so great
that every appearance now actually presented to us, once this determi­
nate limitation is presupposed, is necessary to such a degree that, if it
did not occur, the entire system of our presentations would be inter­
nally self-contradictory.

Problem: To explain how the self intuits itself as sensing

Explanation

The self has sensation, in that it intuits itself as originally limited.

This intuition is an activity, but the self cannot at once both intuit,
and intuit itself as intuiting. In this actf therefore, it is not aware of
any activity at all; so in sensation the concept of an action is nowhere
entertained, but only that of a passivity. In the present moment, the
self is for itself merely the sensed. For the only thing sensed as such
is its real, restricted activity, which does indeed become an object to
the self. It is also that which senses, but only for us who philosophize,
not for itself. The opposition simultaneously posited along
[411-13] How the Self Intuits Itself as Sensing 61

with sensation (that between self and thing-in-itselD is for this reason
again posited, not for the self itself, but only for us in the self.
This phase of self-consciousness will hereafter be called that of
original sensation. It is that wherein the self intuits itself in the origi­
nal limitation, without being aware of this intuition, or the latter itself
again becoming an object for the self. In this phase the self is entirely
rooted upon the sensed, and, as it were, lost therein.
More precisely, then, the problem is this: how does the self,
which was hitherto purely sensed, become both sensing and sensed at
once?
From the original act of self-consciousness, only the fact of limi­
tation could be deduced. Were the self to be limited for itself it would
have to intuit itself as such; this intuition, which reconciles the unlim­
ited self with the limited, was the act of sensation, though for reasons
given, all that remains of this in consciousness is the mere vestige of a
passivity. This act of sensing must therefore itself in turn be made
into an object, and it has to be shown how this, too, enters conscious­
ness. It is easy to foresee that we shall be able to solve this problem
only through a new act.
This is fully in accordance with the progress of the synthetic
method —Two opposites a and b (subject and object) are united by the
actx, butx contains a new opposition, c and d (sensing and sensed),
and so the actx itself again becomes an object; it is itself explicable
only through a new act = z, which perhaps again contains an opposi­
tion, and so on.

Solution

I
The self senses when it finds in itself something opposed to it, namely,
since the self is mere activity, a real negation of activity, or state of be­
ing afiected. But to be that which senses, for itself, the (ideal) self
must posit in itself that passivity which till now has been present only
in the real; and this can undoubtedly occur only through activity.
We are here at the very point around which empiricism has
constantly circulated without being able to explain it. For the
external impression explains to me only the passivity of sensation;
at most it explains a return action upon the impinging object, as it
might be after the fashion of an elastic body repelling another that
strikes it, or a mirror reflecting the light that falls
62 System of Transcendental Idealism [413-14]

upon it; but it does not explain the return action, the reversion of the
self upon itself, or how the latter relates the external impression to it­
self as self, or intuitant. The object never reverts into itself, and re­
lates no impression to itself; for that very reason it is without sensa­
tion.
Thus the self cannot possess sensation> for itself, without being
intrinsically active. Now the self that is active here cannot be the lim­
ited self, but only the illimitable. But this ideal self is unlimited only
in contrast to the objective, now limited, activity, and thus only insofar
as it overleaps the boundary. If we reflect upon what happens in every
sensation, we shall find that in each there must be something that
knows about the impression, but is yet independent thereof and goes
out beyond it; for even the judgment that the impression proceeds
from an object presupposes an activity which does not attach to the im­
pression, but is directed, rather, to something beyond the impression.
The self does not sense, therefore, unless it contains an activity that
goes out beyond the limit. It is by means of this that the self, to have
sensation for itself has to take up the alien element into itself (g〃a
ideal); but this alien element is itself again within the self, for it is the
latter*s suspended activity. For the sake of what follows, the relation­
ship of these two activities must now be more exactly determined. The
unlimited activity is originally ideal, like every activity of the self, in­
cluding therefore the real as well, but is in opposition to the real only
insofar as it overleaps the boundary. The limited activity is real inso­
far as there is reflection upon the fact that it is limited, but ideal inso­
far as we reflect that it is in principle the same as the ideal; it is real
or ideal, depending on how it is regarded. It is evident, moreover, that
the ideal is distinguishable as intrinsically ideal only in contrast to the
real, and vice versa, as can be confirmed by the simplest experiment;
the way, for example, that a fictitious object is distinguishable as such
only in contrast to the real, and conversely, that every real object is
distinguishable as such only in contrast to a fictitious one imported
into the judgment. Taking this for granted, the following conclusions
can be drawn.
1. That the self should have sensation for itself, means
that it should actively take up the opposite into itself. But this
opposite is nothing else but the limit or checking-point, and the
latter resides only in the real activity, which is distinguishable
from the ideal only by the limit. That the self should appropriate
the opposite to itself means, therefore, that it should take this up
into its ideal activity. Now this is not
[414-15] Producing Derived 63

possible, unless the limit falls within the ideal activity, and this, too,
would have to come about by way of an activity of the self itself. (As
now becomes increasingly clear, the whole of theoretical philosophy
has this problem only to solve, namely how the restriction becomes
ideal, or how the ideal (intuitant) activity also comes to be limited. It
was evident in advance, that the disturbed equilibrium (above, A.2) be­
tween ideal and real activity would have to be restored as surely as
the self is a self. How it is to be restored is our sole remaining prob­
lem.) —But the limit falls only upon the line of the real activity, and
conversely, just that activity of the self is the real one, on which the
limit falls. Apart from the limit, moreover, the ideal and real activities
are originally indistinguishable, for it is only the limit which marks
the point of separation between them. Thus the activity is only ideal,
i.e., only to be distinguished as ideal, beyond the boundary, or insofar
as it oversteps the limit.
That the limit shall fall within the ideal activity therefore means
that the limit is to fall beyond the limit, which is a manifest contradic­
tion. This contradiction must be resolved.
2. The ideal self could go about to abolish the limit, and in that
it did so, the limit would also necessarily fall upon the line of the ideal
activity; but the limit is not to be done away with; it is to be taken up
qua limit, that is, unabolished, into the ideal activity.
Alternatively, the ideal self could limit itself, and thus engender
a limit. —But this, too, would provide no explanation of what has to be
explained. For in that case the limit posited in the ideal self would not
be identical with that posited in the real, which it is supposed to be.
Even if we were willing to assume that the hitherto purely ideal self
should become an object to itself, and thereby limited, we should still
have failed to advance a single step thereby, and would indeed have
been thrown back to the first stage of our enquiry, where the hitherto
purely ideal self first separates and, as it were, decomposes itself into a
subjective and an objective.
There is therefore nothing for it but to find a mean between
abolishing and engendering. Such a mean is determining. That which
I am to determine must be present independently of myself. But in
that I determine it, it again becomes, through that very determination,
a thing dependent on myself. Moreover, in that I determine an inde­
terminate, I abolish it as indeterminate and engender it as determi­
nate.
So the ideal activity will have to determine the limit.
64 System of Transcendental Idealism [415-16]

Two questions immediately arise at this point:

a) What does it then mean to say that the limit is determined
through ideal activity?
Nothing is now left of the limit in consciousness, save the ves­
tige of a passivity. Since the self in sensation does not become con­
scious of the act, only the result remains behind. This passivity has
remained till now completely indeterminate. But passivity as such is
no more thinkable than limitation as such. All passivity is determi-
natet as surely as it is possible only through a negation of activity.
The limit would thus be determined if the passivity were so.
This sheer passivity is the raw stuff of sensation, that which is
purely sensed. The passivity would be determined if the self were to
accord it a determinate sphere—a particular field of operation (if this
inappropriate expression may be allowed here). The self would accord*
ingly be passive only within this sphere, and active outside it.
The act of determining would thus be a producing, and the stuff
of this producing the original passivity.
But the second question now arises:
b) How would it be possible to think of this producing itself?
The self cannot produce the sphere without being active, but it
can equally little produce it as a sphere of limitation without itself be­
ing limited by that very act. —In that the self is the limitant, it is ac­
tive, but insofar as it is the limitant of limitation, it itself becomes
something limited.
This act of producing is thus the most absolute union of activity
and passivity. The self is passive in such an act, for it cannot deter­
mine the limitation without already presupposing it. But conversely
also, the (ideal) self is limited here only insofar as it goes about to de­
termine the limitation. The act therefore contains an activity that pre­
supposes a passivity, and conversely, a passivity that presupposes ac­
tivity.
Before ourselves reflecting further upon this union of passivity
and activity in a single act, we may look to see what we should actu­
ally have gained by such an act, were it really capable of being exhib­
ited in the self.
In the preceding state of consciousness, the self was merely
something sensed for itself, not something that senses. In the present
act it becomes for ^selisomething that senses. It becomes an object as
such to itself, since it is limited. But it becomes such an object as ac­
tive (as sensing), since it is limited only in its own limiting.
The (ideal) self thus becomes an object to itself, qua limited in
its activity.
[417-18] Productive Intuition Derived 65

The self is only limited here, insofar as it is active. Empiricism

has no trouble in explaining impressions, since it completely overlooks
the fact that the self in order to become limited as self (i.e., to achieve
sensation), must already be active. —But again the self is only active
here insofar as it is already limited, and just such a mutual
restrictedness of activity and passivity is envisaged in sensation, so far
as it is conjoined with consciousness.
But precisely because the self here comes for itself to be sensing,
it perhaps ceases to be something sensed, just as in the preceding act,
because it was sensed, it could not be a sensing for itself. The self as
sensed would in that case be expelled from consciousness, and some­
thing else opposed to it would take its place.
And so it turns out. The act derived is a producing. Now in this
producing the ideal self is completely free. Hence the reason why it
becomes limited, in the producing of this sphere, cannot lie in itself,
but must be located outside 让.The sphere is a production of the self,
but the limit of the sphere is not a production of the self in its capacity
as producer; and since.in the present stage of consciousness, the latter
does nothing but produce, the limit is no product of the self at all. It is
thus a mere boundary between the self and that which is opposed
thereto, the thing-in~itself\ so it is now neither in nor out of the self,
but is merely the common point of contact between the self and its op­
posite.
Thus if only this act were itself intelligible, in respect of its pos­
sibility, we should also, by means of it, have deduced that opposition
between self and thing-in-itself"-the whole, in short, of what was pre­
viously posited only for the philosopher—and deduced it even for the
self itself.

II
We see now, indeed, from this whole discussion, that the proposed so­
lution to the problem is assuredly the right one; but this solution itself
is not yet comprehensible, and we may doubtless still be in want of
certain middle terms thereof
The solution discloses, at all events, that the ideal self cannot be
passive without already being previously active, and hence that a
mere impression upon the ideal (intuitant) self can in no case account
for sensation; but it also appears that the ideal self in turn cannot be
active, in the manner defined, without already being passive; it ap­
pears, in a word, that activity and passivity mutually presuppose one
another within this act.
66 System of Transcendental Idealism [418-19]

Now it may indeed be that the final act, whereby sensation is

posited completely in the self, is of this sort. But between it and the
original sensation there must still lie intermediate terms, since with
this act we already see ourselves plunged into that irresolvable circle
which has ever bemused philosophers, and which we ourselves, if we
wish to remain true to our previous course, must first conjure up be­
fore our eyes, in order to gain a complete grasp of it. That we must
fall into this circle, has assuredly emerged from the foregoing; but not
how. And to that extent our whole problem is really not yet solved.
The problem was to explain how the original limit passes over into the
ideal self. But it is plain that such a primary transition has not been
made intelligible by what has gone before. We explained this transi­
tion by a limiting of limitation, which we attributed to the ideal self.—
But how does the self as such even manage to limit a passivity? —We
ourselves admitted that this activity already presupposed a passivity
in the ideal self, just as, conversely, to be sure, this passivity also pre­
supposes that activity. We must plumb the origins of this circle to the
bottom, and only so can we hope for a complete solution to our prob­
lem.
We return to the contradiction first established. The self is ev­
erything that it is, solely for itself. It is thus also ideal only for itself,
ideal only insofar as it posits or recognizes itself to be such. If by ideal
activity we mean only the activity of the self as such, so far as it sim­
ply proceeds therefrom and is grounded solely therein, the self is origi­
nally nothing but ideal activity. If the boundary falls within the self,
it falls assuredly within the ideal activity thereof. But this ideal activ­
ity, which is limited, and insofar as it is limited, is not recognized as
ideal, precisely because it is limited. We recognize as ideal that activ­
ity only which goes, and insofar as it goes, beyond the boundary. This
bound-breaking activity has therefore to be bounded, a contradiction
already implicit in the requirement that the self as sensing (ie, as
subject) shall become an object; and there is no resolving this contra­
diction unless it be that bound-breaking and becoming bounded are
one and the same for the ideal self, or unless the self become real, pre­
cisely through its being ideal.
Suppose this were so; suppose that the self were to be limited by
its mere overstepping of the limit, it would in thus overstepping, still
be ideal, and hence qua ideal, or in its ideality, be real and limited.
The question is, how anything of the sort is conceivable.
[419-20] Productive Intuition Derived 67

This problem also we shall be able to resolve only through our

having posited the tendency to self-intuition as an infinite one. —Of
the original sensation, nothing remains in the self save the limit,
purely as such. The self is not ideal for us save insofar as it oversteps
the limit, in the very act of sensing. But it cannot recognize itself as
ideal (i.e., as sensing), without opposing its activity which has ex­
ceeded the limit to that which is confined therein, namely the real ac­
tivity. The two are distinguishable only in their reciprocal opposition
and relation to one another. But this in turn is possible only through
a third activity, which is both inside and outside the boundary at once.
This third activity, at once both ideal and real, is undoubtedly
the producing activity inferred in section I, wherein activity and pas­
sivity were to be reciprocally conditioned by each other.
Thus we are now able to establish the intermediate terms in
that producing activity, and to derive the latter itself in full. —They
are as follows:
1. The self, qua infinite tendency to intuit itself was already
sensing at the previous stage, that is intuiting itself as limited. But a
limit lies only between two opposites, so the seif could not intuit itself
as limited without necessarily reaching out to something beyond the
boundary, i.e., overstepping the limit. Such a limit-exceeding activity
was already posited for us along with sensation, but it also has to be
posited for the self itself, and only to that extent will the self become
an object to itself as sensing.
2. Not only must the hitherto objective element in the self be­
come an object, but also the subjective as well. This occurs in that the
limit-exceeding activity becomes an object to the sel£ But the self can­
not intuit an activity as exceeding the limit without opposing and re­
lating it to another which does not. This self-intuition in both its ideal
and real activities, the one limit-passing and sensing, the other limit-
restricted and sensed, is possible only through a third activity, at once
confined within the limit and extending beyond it, at once real and
ideal, and it is in this activity that the self becomes an object to itself
as having sensation. Insofar as the self senses, it is ideal; insofar as it
is an object, real; that activity, therefore, whereby, as sensing, it be*
comes an object, must be simultaneously both ideal and real.
The problem of explaining how the self intuits itself as sensing,
could thus also be formulated as one of explaining how, in one and
the same activity^ the self becomes both ideal and real. This simulta­
neously ideal and real activity is that producing activity we postu­
lated, wherein activeness and passiveness are reciprocally
68 System of Transcendental Idealism [420-22]

conditioned by each other. The genesis of this third activity thus ex­
plains for us, at the same time, the origin of that circle, which we saw
ourselves to have fallen into with the self (I.).
The genesis of this activity is, however, as follows. In the first
act (that of self-consciousness), the self is \ntuited-as-suchf and in
being intuited is thereby limited. In the second act it is intuited, not
as such, but determinately, as limited} yet it cannot be intuited as
limited, unless the ideal activity oversteps the boundary. Hence there
arises in the self an opposition between two activities which, as activi­
ties of one and the same self, are automatically united in a third, in
which there has necessarily to be a mutual conditioning of aflected-
ness and activity, or in which the self is ideal only insofar as it is si­
multaneously real, and vice versa; and by this, then, the self as sens­
ing becomes an object to itself.
3. In this third activity the self is vacillating between the activ­
ity that has passed the limit and that which is still confined. Through
this vacillation of the self, they acquire a reciprocal relation to each
other, and become fixated as opposites.
It may be asked:
a) what the ideal activity becomes fixated as? So far as it is fix­
ated at all, it ceases to be pure activity. It becomes in the same action
opposed to the activity confined within the limit, and is thus appre­
hended as an activity fixated but set in opposition to the real self. So
far as it is apprehended as fixated, it acquires an ideal substrate; so
far as it is apprehended as an activity opposed to the real self, it itself
becomes—but only in this opposition—a real activity; it becomes the
activity of something really opposed to the real self. But this real op­
ponent to the real self is nothing other than the thing-in-itself.
Thus the ideal activity, having passed the limit and now become
an object, at this point disappears as such from consciousness and is
transformed into the thing-in-itself.
The following observation is easily made. The sole ground of
the original limitation is, by the foregoing, the selfs intuitant or
ideal activity; but this latter is here reflected, as ground of limitation,
to the self itself, though not indeed as an activity thereof, for the
self is now simply real; rather, as something opposed to the self.
The thing-in-itself is therefore nothing else but the shadow of the
ideal activity, now over the boundary, which is thrown back to the
self by intuition, and is to that extent itself a product of the self.
The dogmatist, who regards the thing-in-itself as real, is in the
same position as that now currently occupied
[422-23] Productive Intuition Derived 69

by the self. The thing-in-itself arises for it through an action; the out­
come remains behind, but not the action that gave rise to it. Thus the
self is originally ignorant of the fact that this opposite is its own prod­
uct, and must remain in the same ignorance so long as it stays en­
closed in the magic circle which self-consciousness describes about the
self; only the philosopher, in breaking out of the circle, can penetrate
behind the illusion.
The deduction has now progressed to the point at which some­
thing outside the self is for the first time present to the self as such.
In the current action the self is directed for the first time to something
beyond the limit, and this latter is now nothing but the common point
of contact between the self and its opposite. In the original sensation,
only the limit was disclosed; here, something beyond the limit,
whereby the self explains the limit to itself It is to be expected that
the limit also will thereby acquire an altered significance, as will soon
appear. The original sensation, in which the self was merely the
sensed, is transformed into an intuition, in which the self for the first
time becomes for itself that which senses, but for that very reason
ceases to be the sensed. For the self that intuits itself as sensing, the
sensed is the (previously sensing) ideal activity which has crossed the
boundary, but is now no longer intuited as an activity of the self. The
original limitant of the real is the self itself, but it cannot enter con­
sciousness as a limiting factor without transforming itself into the
thing-in-itself. The third activity, here deduced, is that in which the
limited and the limitant are simultaneously separated and gathered
together.
It still remains to enquire
b) what becomes in this action of the real or restricted activity?
The ideal activity has transformed itself into the thing-in-itself,
and so the real will transform itself through the same action into the
opposite of the thing-in-itself, namely the self-in-itself. The self, which
was hitherto always both subject and object at once, is now for the first
time something in itself; the originally subjective aspect of the self has
been carried over the boundary, and is there intuited as the thing-in-
itself; what remains within the boundary is the purely objective aspect
of the self.
Thus the deduction now stands at the point where the self and
its opposite separate, not just for the philosopher merely, but for the
self itself. The origin duality of self-consciousness is now as it were
divided between the self and the thing-in-itself. From the present
action of the self there is left over, therefore,
70 System of Transcendental Idealism [423-24]

not a mere passivity, but two opposites really opposed to each other, on
which the determinacy of sensation depends; and thereby the problem
of how the self comes to have sensation for itself is first completely
solved. A problem that until now no philosophy could answer, and
least of all empiricism. In passing, when the latter vainly endeavors
to explain the passage of the impression from the purely passive self
into the thinking and active one, the difficulty of the task is one that
he actually shares with the idealist. For wherever the passivity may
come from, whether from an impression of the thing outside us, or
from the primordial mechanism of the mind itself, it is still always pas­
sivity, and the transition to be explained is the same. The marvel of
productive intuition resolves this difficulty, and without this there is
no solving it at all. For it is manifest that the self cannot intuit itself
as sensing, without intuiting itself as opposed to itself, and simulta­
neously in limitant and delimited activity—in that mutual determina­
tion of activeness and passiveness which arises in the manner indi­
cated; save only that this opposition in the self itself, which only the
philosopher perceives, appears to his object, the self, as an opposition
between itself and something outside it.
4. The product of the oscillation between real and ideal activity
is the self-in-itself on the one hand, and the thing-in-itself on the
other, and both are the factors of the intuition now to be derived. We
must first ask how these two are determined by the action already in­
ferred.
a) That the self is determined by this action as a pure objective,
has just been proved. But it only becomes so in the reciprocal relation*
ship in which it now stands with the thing-in-itself. For were the
limitant still within it, it would be determined merely through appear­
ing so to itself, whereas it now is determined in itself and as it were in­
dependently of itself; exactly as is demanded by the dogmatist, who in
fact only elevates himself to this point of view.
(It is not a matter of which self is active in this process, for this
self is ideal in its limitation, and conversely, limited in its ideality, nei­
ther subject nor object alone, since it embraces within itself the whole
(complete) self; save only that what belongs to the subject appears as
thing-in-itself, and what belongs to the object, as self-in-itself.)
b) The thing is, to start with, wholly and solely determined
as the absolute opposite to the self. But now the self is determined
as activity, and so the thing is likewise determined merely as a coun­
terpart to the activity of the self. But all setting in opposition
[424-25] Productive Intuition Derived 71

is determinate; it is therefore impossible for the thing to be opposed to

the self without it being simultaneously limited. Here we discover
what it means to say that the self must also in turn limit the passivity
(I). The passivity is limited by the fact that its condition, the thing, is
limited. The limitation in limitation, which we saw to arise at the very
outset along with limitation in general, in feet enters consciousness
only with the opposition between self and thing-in-itself. The thing is
determined as an activity opposed to the selg and hence as the ground
of limitation in general; as itself a limited activity, and hence as the
ground of limitation in particular. Now what limits the thing? The
same boundary which also limits the se】£ The greater the amount of
activity in the self, the greater the amount of nonactivity in the thing,
and vice versa. Only through this communal limiting do they both en­
gage in interaction. That one and the same boundary limits both self
and thing, that the thing is limited only so far as the self is, and
the self only so far as the thing is, in short, this interdetermination^ in
the present act, of activity and passivity in the selg is perceived only
by the philosopher; in the act that follows, the self will see it too, but,
as might be expected, in a very different fashion. The limit is still al­
ways the same as that originally posited by the self itself^ save only
that it now no longer appears simply as the boundary of the self, but
also as that of the thing. The thing acquires only so much reality as
was wiped out in the self itself through its original act. But just as
with the self itself, so also will the thing appear to it as limited without
its concurrence, and, to link this result again to the point we started
from, here too, therefore, the ideal activity becomes limited in direct
consequence of the fact that it oversteps the boundary and is intuited
as having done so.
It may readily be inferred from this how, by this act,
c) the limit becomes determined. Since it is limit for both self
and thing at once, its ground can be no more in the one than in the
other; for if it lay in the self, the latter's activity would not be condi­
tioned by passivity; if it lay in the thing, its passivity would not be
conditioned by activity; in short, the act would not be what it is.
Since the ground of the limit lies neither in self nor thing, it lies
nowhere; it exists absolutely because it exists, and is as it is because
that is how it is. Hence, in relation to both self and thing it will
appear as absolutely contingent. That item in intuition is the
boundary, therefore, which is absolutely contingent for self and
thing alike; a more accurate determination or account
72 System of Transcendental Idealism [425-27]

of it is not yet possible here, and can be given only in the sequel.
5. That oscillation, whose residues are the self and thing-in-it-
self as opposites, cannot persist, for by this opposition a contradiction
is posited in the self itself (that self which oscillates between the two).
But the self is absolute identity. As certainly, therefore, as self = self
there arises automatically and necessarily a third activity, in which
the two opposites are brought into a relative equilibrium.
All activity of the self proceeds from a contradiction therein.
For since the self is absolute identity, it requires no ground determin­
ing it to activity other than a duality in itself, and the persistence of
all mental activity depends upon the continuance, i.e., the constant re-
emergence, of this contradiction.
Here indeed, the contradiction appears as an opposition between
the self and something outside it, but is by derivation a contradiction
between ideal and real activity. If the self is to intuit (or sense) itself
in its original confinement, it must simultaneously press on out be­
yond the confinement. Restriction, necessity, compulsion—these are
all felt only in opposition to an unconfined activity. Nor is anything
actual in the absence of imagination. —Thus already with sensation
itself a contradiction is posited in the self. It is at once confined and
pressing out over the boundary.
This contradiction cannot be got rid of, but nor again can it per­
sist. Hence it can be unified only by means of a third activity.
This third activity is essentially intuitant, for it is the ideal self
that is here thought of as becoming limited.
But this intuition is an intuiting of intuition, for it is an intuit­
ing of sensation. —Sensing is already itself an intuiting, but an intuit­
ing of the first order (hence the simplicity of all sensations, the
impossibility of defining them, for all definition is synthetic). The in­
tuiting now derived is thus an intuiting of the second order, or, what
comes to the same, a productive intuition.

Theory of Productive Intuition

Introductory
Descartes the physicist said: give me matter and motion, and
from that I will fashion you the universe. The transcendental
philosopher says: give me a nature made up of opposed activities,
of which one reaches out into
[427-28] Theory of Productive Intuition 73

the infinite, while the other tries to intuit itself in this infinitude, and
from that I will bring forth for you the intelligence, with the whole
system of its presentations. Every other science presupposes the intel­
ligence as already complete; the philosopher observes it in its genesis,
and brings it into being, so to speak, before his eyes.
The self is but the ground upon which the intelligence, with all
its determinations, is delineated. The original act of self-consciousness
explains to us only how the self is restricted in regard to its objective
activity, or in its original striving; but not how it is confined in its sub­
jective activity, or in knowing. It is productive intuition which first
transfers the original limit into the ideal activity, and is the selfs first
step towards intelligence.
The necessity of productive intuition, here systematically de­
duced from the entire mechanism of the self, has got to be derived, as
a general condition of knowing as such, directly from the concept
thereof; for if all knowing borrows its reality from an immediate cogni­
tion, it is this alone that is to be met within intuition; whereas con­
cepts, in fact, are merely shadows of reality, projected through a repro­
ductive power, the understanding, which itself presupposes a higher
power, having no original outside itself, and which produces from
within itself by a primordial force. Hence an improper idealism, a sys­
tem, that is, which turns all knowledge into illusion, would have to be
one which eliminated all immediacy in our cognition, eg, by positing
external originals independent of our presentations; whereas a system
which seeks the origin of things in an activity of the mind that is ideal
and real at once, would have, precisely because it is the most perfect
idealism, to be at the same time the most perfect realism. For if the
most perfect realism is that which recognizes things in themselves and
immediately, it is possible only in an order which perceives in things
its own reality merely, confined by its own activity. For such an order,
as the indwelling soul of things, would permeate them as its own im­
mediate organism and―just as the master has the most perfect knowl­
edge of his work-would fathom their inner mechanism from the first.
As against this, the attempt may be made to explain the evi­
dence of sensory intuition upon the hypothesis that there is something
or other in our intuition which arrives there through a check or im­
pression. For a start, however, a check upon the percipient will not
convey to him the object itself, but only the effect thereof. But now in
intuition it is not the mere effect of an object, but the object itse/f that
is immediately present. Now as to how the object is annexed to the
74 System of Transcendental Idealism [428-29]

impression, one might perhaps try to explain it by way of inference,

were it not that in the intuition itself we find no trace whatever of an
inference or mediation through concepts such as those of cause and ef­
fect, and were it not the object itself, rather than a mere product of
syllogism, that stands before us in intuition. Alternatively, one might
explain the accession of the object to sensation by means of a produc­
tive faculty, set in motion by an external impulse; but that would
never explain the immediate conveyance into the self of the external
object which is the source of the impression; and we should then have
to derive the impression or check from a force able to take complete
possession of the soul, and as it were to pervade it. It is thus ever and
again the most characteristic procedure of dogmatism to weave a veil
of mystery about the origin of presentations from external things; to
speak of it as though it were a revelation, making all further explana­
tion impossible; or to account for the inconceivable emergence of any­
thing so strange as a presentation from the impress of an external ob­
ject by ascribing it to a force, for which, as for God (the one immediate
object of our knowledge, according to this view), even the impossible is
possible.
It seems to have never even remotely occurred to the dogmatist,
that in a discipline such as philosophy nothing can be presupposed,
and that here, indeed, even those concepts that are otherwise the most
common and familiar require to be deduced before any others. Thus
the distinction between what comes from without and what comes
from within is one that undoubtedly stands in need of justification and
explanation. But in the very process of explaining it I posit a region of
consciousness where this separation does not yet exist, and where in­
ner and outer worlds are conceived as interfused. So certain is it that
a philosophy, which does but make it an absolute rule to leave nothing
unproved and without derivation, will arrive, almost without willing it
and through its own mere consistency, at idealism.
No dogmatist has yet undertaken to describe or depict the na­
ture and manner of this external influence; though this, in all fairness,
could have been expected, as necessarily demanded of a theory upon
which nothing less than the whole reality of knowledge depends. One
would have indeed to include here those gradual sublimations of mat­
ter into spirituality, whereby one thing only is forgotten, namely that
the spirit is everlastingly an island, never to be reached from matter
without a leap, however roundabout the approaches may be.
There is no holding out long against such demands with the
pretext of absolute unintelligibility, for the urge to comprehend
this mechanism continually recurs,
[429-31] Productive Intuition 75

and if a philosophy, which boasts of leaving nothing unproved, pre­

tends to have actually discovered this mechanism, we should be bound
to find something unintelligible in the explanation itself. Yet every­
thing unintelligible therein emerges solely from the common stand­
point, to abandon which is the first condition of all understanding in
philosophy. Anyone, e.g., for whom in all the activity of the mind there
is nowhere anything unconscious, and no region outside that of con­
sciousness, will no more understand how the intelligence can forget it­
self in its products, than how the artist can be lost in his work. For
him there is nothing other than the ordinary moral bringing-fbrth, and
nowhere any producing in which necessity is united with freedom.
All productive intuition springs from a perpetual contradiction;
the intelligence, which has no other urge but to revert into its identity,
is thereby placed under a constant compulsion to activity, and is no less
bound and fettered in the manner of its producing than nature in its
engenderings appears to be; so much has already been partially de­
duced in the foregoing, and will be further elucidated by means of the
full theory of intuition.
In connection with the term *intuition\ it should be noted that
nothing at all of a sensory kind is to be imported into the concept, as
though, for example, seeing alone were an intuiting, notwithstanding
that language has exclusively credited it with being so; for which, in­
deed a reason can be given, and pretty deep it lies. The thoughtless
multitude accounts for seeing by means of lightrays; but what is a
lightray, in fact? It is itself already a seeing, and the original seeing at
that, namely intuition itself.
The whole theory of productive intuition proceeds from the
proposition already derived and demonstrated: in that the out-of-
bounds and the in-bounds activities are related to one another, they are
fixed as opposed to each other, the one as thing, the other as self-in-it-
self.
The question might straightway arise at this point, as to how in
fact this ideal activity, posited as absolutely illimitable, could come to
be fixated and thereby also limited. The answer is that this activity is
not limited as intuitant, or as activity of the self, for in becoming lim­
ited it ceases to be an activity of the self and is transformed into the
thing-in-itself. This intuiting activity is now itself an intuited, and
thus no longer intuitant. But only the intuitant as such is illimitable.
The intuiting activity which replaces it is that comprised in pro­
duction, and is for that very reason at the same time real. As intuitant,
the ideal activity thus bound in with production continues to remain
76 System of Transcendenta 1 Idealism [431-32]

illimitable. For though limited in the course of productive intuition, it

is limited nonetheless for that moment only, whereas the real activity
is limited continually. Now if it should appear that all producing on
the part of the intellect rests on the contradiction between the illimit­
able ideal and the restricted real activities, the producing will be no
less infinite than that contradiction itself, and along with the ideal ac­
tivity that is limited in course of production, a progressive principle in
production will have been posited. All producing is finite, so far as it
goes, but that which also comes about through this producing will fur­
nish the condition for a new contradiction, which will turn into a new
producing, and so assuredly ad infinitum.
If the self did not contain an activity which oversteps every
boundary, it would never emerge from its first producing. It would
produce, and be limited in its producing, for an intuitant outside it,
maybe, but not for itself. Just as the self, to attain to sensation for it­
self, must push on out beyond the originally sensed, so, to be produc­
ing for itself, it must transcend every product. In productive intuition
we shall thus be involved in the same contradiction as with sensation,
and by the same contradiction, productive intuition will likewise raise
itself again for us to a higher power, just as simple intuition did in
sensation.
That this contradiction will have to be an infinite one, can be
shown most briefly as follows:
The self contains an illimitable activity, but it is not in the self
as such, unless posited by the latter as its own activity* However, the
self cannot intuit it as its own activity without distinguishing itself
therefrom as the subject or substrate of the infinite activity in ques­
tion. But by this very act there arises a new duality, a contradiction
between finitude and infinitude. The self qua subject of this infinite
activity is dynamically (potentid) infinite, but the activity itself, in be­
ing posited as an activity of the self, becomes finite; but in becoming
finite, it once more becomes extended out over the boundary, yet in be­
ing extended it is also again limited. —And thus this alternation is
prolonged ad infinitum.
The self that is elevated in this manner to an intelligence is
therefore thrown into a perpetual state of expansion and contraction;
but this state is precisely that of imaging and producing. The activity
at work in this alternation is therefore bound to appear as a producing
activity.
 Product of Productive Intuition 77

Deduction of Productive Intuition

1, We left our object in a state of oscillation between opposites.
In themselves, these opposites are absolutely incapable of unification,
and if they can be unified, it is only through the selfs endeavor to
unite them, which alone gives them stability and mutual relation to
one another.
Both opposites are affected only by the action of the self, and are
to that extent a product of the self, the thing-in-itself no less than the
self, which figures here for the first time as its own product. —The
self, of which the two are products, elevates itself by that very fact into
intelligence. If we think of the thing-in-itself as outside the self, and
the two opposites as therefore in difFerent spheres, then no unification
whatever will be possible between them, since in themselves they are
not uniHable; to unite them, therefore, there will be need of something
higher which encompasses them. But this higher principle is the self
itself, raised to a higher power, or elevated into intelligence, and it is
of this that we shall be speaking constantly hereafter. For the self
that the thing-in-itself is outside of is only the objective or real self,
while that which includes it is the simultaneously ideal and real,，e,
the intelligent self.
2. These opposites are held together only by an act of the self.
But the latter has no intuition of itself in this act; thus the acting
sinks, as it were, out of consciousness, and only the opposition remains
qua opposition therein. But it could not even have remained as an op­
position in consciousness (the opposites would have destroyed one an­
other), but for a third activity which has held them apart (opposed)
and by that very fact united them.
That the opposition as such enters consciousness, or that the
two opposites do so as absolute (and not merely relative) opposites, is
the condition of productive intuition. The difficulty is to explain even
this. For everything enters the self only through its act, and so too
with this opposition. But if the latter is posited through an act of the
self, it ceases by that very fact to be absolute. This difficulty is soluble
only along the following lines. The act itself must be lost from con­
sciousness, for thereafter only the two members of the opposition (self
and thing-in-itself) will remain behind as 加 themselves incapable (by
their own power) of unification. For in the original action they were
surely held together only by the act of the self (and so not by them­
selves); that act served merely to bring them to consciousness, and
having done this now itself disappears from consciousness.
The fact that this opposition as such remains behind in con­
sciousness is sufficient to secure a large territory for consciousness.
For now indeed the identity of consciousness is utterly abolished
thereby, not only for the observer, but for the self itself; the self is
78 System of Transcendental Idealism [433-35]

thus led to the same point of observation at which we ourselves have

been stationed from the first, save only that for the self at this point a
number of things must appear quite otherwise than they did to us. We
viewed the self originally in a conflict of opposing activities. The self,
without knowing of that conflict, has had to reconcile it involuntarily
and, as it were, blindly in a common construction. In this construction
the ideal, illimitable activity of the self was included as such, so from
that construction only the real activity could remain behind as limited.
At the present juncture, now that the conflict becomes an object to the
self itself, it has transformed itself for the self-intuiting self into the
opposition between the self (as objective activity) and the thing-in-it-
sel£ Since, therefore, the intuitant activity is now outside the conflict
(which happens precisely through the selfs elevation to intelligence, or
through the fact that this very conflict again becomes an object to the
self), it will now become possible for this opposition to be eliminated,
for the self itselfy in a common construction. It is also evident, why the
most fundamental opposition for the self itself, though assuredly not
for the philosopher, is that between self and thing-in-itself.
3. This intrinsically irreconcilable opposition is posited in the
self only insofar as the latter intuits it as such; and this intuiting we
have also derived already, though till now we have considered only
one part of it. For in virtue of the original identity of its nature, the
self cannot intuit the opposition without again importing identity into
it, and hence a reciprocal relation of self to thing and thing to self.
Now in that opposition the thing emerges only as activity, albeit as an
activity opposed to the self. Through the act of the self this activity is
indeed fixated, but only qua activity. So the thing, as so far derived, is
still always a live and active affair, and not yet the passive, inert item
encountered in appearance. This we shall never arrive at unless we
again import an opposition, and thence an equilibrium, into the object
itself The thing-in-itself is pure ideal activity, in which nothing is rec­
ognizable save its opposition to the real activity of the self. And like
the thing, so the self too is mere activity.
These opposed activities cannot part company, since they are
in fact united by the common boundary as their point of contact.
But nor, likewise, can they subsist together, unless they are
straightway reduced to a third item common to both. Not until
this happens do they abdicate as activities. Now the third item
that arises from them can be neither self nor thing-in-itself, but only
a product lying midway between the two. Hence
[435-36] Product of Productive Intuition 79

this product will not figure in intuition as thing-in-itself^ or as an ac­

tive thing, but merely as the appearance of that thing. The thing, so
far as it is active and a cause of passivity in us, therefore lies beyond
the stage of intuition, or is repressed from consciousness by productive
intuition, which, oscillating as it does between thing and self, gives
birth to something that lies midway between the two, and in holding
them apart is a common expression of them both.
It is only ourselves, however, and not the self itself, who see this
third item to be the object of sensory intuition, and even for us it is not
yet demonstrated, but has first to be proved.
The proof can be no other than this. The product contains only
the content of the productive activity, and whatever has been incorpo­
rated therein by the synthesis must also allow of again being extracted
from it by analysis. In the product, therefore, the traces of both activi­
ties, that of the self no less than that of the thing, must be discernible.
In order to know how these two activities disclose themselves in
the product, we first have to know how they are distinguishable as
such.
The first activity is that of the self, which originally, i.e.t prior to
limitation (and this is here for the first time to be elucidated for the
self itself), is infinite. Now there is in fact no ground for positing the
activity opposed to the self as finite; as surely, indeed, as the selfs ac­
tivity is infinite, so also must be the opposing activity of the thing.
But two activities, opposed and external to each other, simply
cannot be thought of as infinite, if both are positive in character. For
between equally positive activities only relative opposition is possible,
that is, a mere opposition in direction.
(Suppose two equal forces, A, A, exerted upon one and the same
body in opposite directions; both are then initially positive, so that if
they are conjoined together, a double force results; hence they are not
opposed in any primordial or absolute sense, but simply through their
relationship to the body; once they emerge from this relationship, both
are again positive. Moreover, it is entirely indifferent which of the two
is made positive or negative. Both are ultimately distinguishable only
through their opposite directions.)
Hence, if the selfs activity, like that of the thing, be in both
cases positive, and so opposed only relatively to the other, they will
likewise have to be distinguishable only by their directions. But
now both are in fact posited as infinite, and in infinity there is no
direction at all. Hence the two activities will have originally to be
distinguishable, as in merely relative opposition,
80 System of Transcendental Idealism [436-37]

by means of a higher activity. One of them will have to be not merely

the relative, but the absolute negation of the other; how this is possible
has yet to be shown; our claim is merely that that is how it must be.
(In place of the above-me nt io ned forces in merely relative oppo­
sition, suppose a pair of forces of which one = A, the other = -A; -A is
then negative from the beginning and absolutely opposed to A; if I
combine them, the result is not the double force previously obtained,
but a combination expressed as A+ (-A) = A - A. We may see from this
in passing why mathematics does not need to take note of the differ­
ence between absolute and relative opposition, since for purposes of
calculation the formulae a - a and a + (- a) , of which one expresses
relative, the other absolute opposition, have exactly the same signifi­
cance. But for philosophy and physics the distinction is all the more
important, as will clearly emerge in the sequel. Nor are A and -A to be
distinguished merely through their opposite directions, since one of
them is negative, not in this relationship only, but absolutely and by
its very nature.)
Applying this to the case under discussion, we find the selfs ac­
tivity to be intrinsically positive, and the ground of all positivity. For
it has been characterized as a striving to expand out to infinity. The
activity of the thing would thus have intrinsically to be that which is
absolutely and by nature negative. Were it a striving to occupy the in­
finite, it could only be thinkable, on the contrary, as the limitant of the
first activity. In and for itself it would not be real, and would be ca­
pable of demonstrating its reality only in opposition to the other,
through a constant restriction of the operation thereof.
And this is in fact the case. What appears to us from the
present standpoint as activity of the thing-in-itself, is nothing else but
the ideal self-reverting activity of the selg and this can only be pre­
sented as the negative of the other. The objective or real activity sub­
sists for itself and exists, even in the absence of an intuitant; but the
intuitant or limitant activity is nothing without something to intuit or
to limit.
Conversely, it follows from the fact that both activities are abso­
lutely opposed to one another, that they must be posited in one and the
same subject. For only if two opposed activities inhere in one and the
same subject, can one be the absolute opposite of the other.
(Consider, for example, a body driven upward by a force = A,
proceeding from the earth; owing to the continuous influence of grav­
ity, it will return to earth by a steady deviation from the straight-line
path. Suppose now, on the one hand, that gravity works by impulse;
then A, and the impulse of gravity B, coming in the opposite
[437-39] Product of Productive Intuition 81

direction, are both positive forces, and opposed only relatively to one
another* so that it is completely arbitrary which of the two, A or B, is
taken to be negative. Suppose, on the other hand, that the cause of
gravity lies in no way outside the point from which force A proceeds;
in that case the two forces A and B will have a common source, where­
upon it is at once evident that one of the two is necessarily and by ori­
gin negative, and such that if A, the positive, is a force operating
through contact, the negative must be such that it also acts at a dis­
tance. The first case is an example of a purely relative opposition, the
second of an absolute one. Which of the two is adopted is admittedly a
matter of indifference for calculation, but not for natural philosophy.)
Thus if two activities have one and the same subject, the self, it
is self-evident that they must be absolutely opposed to each other; and
conversely, if both are absolutely opposed to each other, that they are
activities of one and the same subject.
If the two activities were divided between different subjects, as
might here seem to be the case, since we have posited one as an activ­
ity of the self, the other as an activity of the thing, then the selfs ten­
dency to reach out to infinity could indeed be restricted by an activity
(of the thing-in-itself) coming in the opposite direction. In that case,
however, the thing-in-itself would have to be outside the self. But the
thing-in-itself is only outside the real (practical) self; by the magic of
intuition both are united, and posited as activities, not relatively but
absolutely opposed, within one identical subject.
4. The opposed activities that are to be the condition of intuition
are now more exactly determined, and for both we have found charac­
terizations independent of their directions. The first, that of the self,
may be recognized by its positive nature, the second by the fact that it
can be thought of solely as the limitant of a positive activity. We now
proceed to apply these definitions to the question raised above.
In the common outcome arising from the opposition of the two
activities, the traces of both must be apparent, and since we know
their nature, the product also must admit of characterization in terms
of them.
Since the latter is a product of opposed activities, it must, for
that very reason, be finite.
Since, moreover, it is the common product of opposites, neither
activity can eliminate the other; both together must emerge in the
product, not indeed as identical, but as what they are, namely opposed
activities, maintaining a mutual equilibrium.
To the extent that they preserve a balance between them,
the two will not cease, indeed, to be activities, but they will not
appear as such. —Let us recall once more
82 System of Transcendental Idealism [439-40]

the example of the lever. In order for it to remain in balance, equal

weights must bear upon it at both ends, at equal distances from the
fulcrum. Each individual weight acts, but cannot achieve its effect (it
does not appear as active); both are confined to the common effect. So
in intuition. The two activities that preserve equilibrium do not
thereby cease to be activities, for the equilibrium only exists insofar as
both are actively opposed to one another; only the product is static.
But in the product, moreover, since it is to be a common one, the
traces of both activities must also be discernible. The opposite activi­
ties will therefore be distinguishable therein, one absolutely positive
and tending to expand to infinity, the other, as absolute opposite of the
first, directed to absolute finitude, and for that very reason recogniz­
able only as limitant of the positive activity.
Only because both activities are absolutely opposed can both
also be infinite. Both are infinite only in an opposite sense. (We get
help in explaining this from the infinity of the number sequence in op­
posite directions. A finite quantity as such = 1, can be increased in­
definitely in such fashion that a divisor can still always be found for
it; but if we suppose it increased beyond all limits, it becomes equal to
1/0, that is, the infinitely large. The same quantity can be diminished
indefinitely, by endlessly dividing it; but if we now suppose the divisor
to increase beyond all limits, the result = l/~ , that is, the infinitely
small.)
Thus the first activity, if unrestricted, would produce the posi­
tive infinite, and the second, under like conditions, the negative infi­
nite.
In the common product, therefore, we must encounter the traces
of two activities, of which one, in the absence of limits, would produce
the positive infinite, and the other the negative.
But furthermore, these two activities cannot be absolutely op­
posed to each other without being activities of one and the same identi­
cal subject. So nor can they be united in one and the same product
without a third activity which synthesizes them both. Besides these
two activities, therefore, there must also emerge in the product the
traces of a third synthetic activity opposed to both of them.
Now that the characteristics of the product have been deduced
in full, it remains only to demonstrate that they all come together in
what we speak of as matter.
 Deduction of Matter 83

Deduction of Matter
1. The two activities, which maintain equilibrium in the prod­
uct, can appear only as fixed, static activities, that is, as forces.
The first of these forces will be by nature positive, so that if un­
restricted by any opposing force it would expand out to infinity. —That
matter possesses such an infinite expansive force will be given only a
transcendental proof. As surely as the first of the two activities from
which the product is constructed tends, by its nature, to strive into the
infinite, so surely must the first factor of the product be also an infi­
nite expansive force.
Left to itself, this latter force, which is concentrated in the prod­
uct, would now expand ad infinitum. That it is actually retained in a
finite product, is explicable only through an opposing, negative, re­
straining force, which must likewise display itself as the counterpart
in the common product to the limiting activity of the self.
Thus if the self could reflect at this present stage upon its con­
struction, it would find the latter to be a composite of two forces main­
taining an equilibrium, of which one on its own would produce the in­
finitely large, while the other in its unrestricted form would reduce
the product to the infinitely small. —However, at its present stage the
self is not yet reflective.
2. Till now we have had regard only to the opposite natures of
the two activities and of the forces corresponding to them; but upon
their opposite natures their opposite directions also depend. We can
therefore raise the question, how two forces come to be distinguished
even in their mere directions, a problem that will lead us to a closer
determination of the product, and will open the road to a new enquiry;
for it is undoubtedly a query of great importance, to ask how forces
that are thought of as operating from one and the same point can act
in opposite directions.
The first of the two activities was assumed to be headed
originally towards the positive infinite. But in infinity there are no
directions. For direction is determination, yet determination =
negation. The positive activity will therefore have to appear in the
product as an activity intrinsically quite lacking in direction, and
for that very reason headed in all directions. It must be noted once
more, however, that this omnidirectional activity is in fact only
distinguished as such from the standpoint of reflection, for in the
moment of production the activity is nowhere distinguished from its
direction, and how the self makes this distinction on its own account
will be the topic of a special enquiry. The question now
84 System of Transcendental Idealism [442-43]

arises, as to what direction distinguishes the activity in the product

that is opposed to the positive. What we should expect in advance,
namely that if the positive activity embraces all directions, the other
will have only one direction, can be rigorously proved. —The concept
of expansiveness is contained in that of direction* No expansiveness,
no direction. Now since the negative force is absolutely opposed to the
expansive force, it must appear, therefore, as a force operating against
all direction, which if unrestricted would constitute an absolute nega­
tion of all direction in the product. But the negation of all direction is
the absolute boundary, the mere point. So this activity will appear as
one that endeavors to bring back all expansion to a mere point. This
point will indicate its direction, and hence it will have but one direc­
tion, towards this point. Picture the expansive force as operating out
from the common midpoint C in all directions, CA, CB, etc.; then in
contrast, the negative or attractive force will push back from all direc­
tions toward the one point C. —But here too it remains true of this di­
rection what we recalled concerning the directions of the positive
force. Here too activity and direction are absolutely one; the self itself
does not distinguish them.
Just as the directions of the positive and negative activities are
not distinguished from the activities themselves, so equally the direc­
tions are not distinguished from one another. How the self arrives at
making this distinction, whereby it first singles out space as space,
and time as time, will be the subject of a later enquiry.
3. The most important question that now remains for us in re­
gard to the relationship of the two forces is this: how in fact can activi­
ties of opposing directions be united in one and the same subject?
How two forces emanating from different points can work in opposite
directions, it is possible to understand; it is less easy to see this of two
forces emanating from one and the same point. If CA, CB, etc. are the
lines on which the positive force acts, then the negative force will have
to operate in the opposite sense, that is, in the directions AC, BC, etc.
Suppose now the positive force to be limited at A; then if the negative
force, to operate at point A, had first to traverse all the intermediate
points between C and A, it would be absolutely indistinguishable from
the expansive force, for it would be acting in exactly the same direc­
tion as the latter. Now since it works counter to the positive force in
the opposite direction, the reverse will in fact hold of it, that is, it will
act immediately, and without traversing the individual points between
C and A, upon point A, and set a limit to line A
So while the expansive force acts only in continuous fashion,
the attractive or retarding force, by contrast, will operate
immediately, or at a distance.
[443-44] Deduction of Matter 85

The relationship of the two forces will be determined as follows.

—Since the negative force operates immediately upon the point of limi­
tation, there will be nothing within that point save the expansive
force; but beyond that point the attractive force working in opposition
to the expansive force (albeit from the same source) will necessarily
extend its operation ad infinitum.
For since it is a force that acts immediately, so that distance is
nonexistent for it, it must be thought of as acting far and wide, and
thus ad infinitum.
The relationship of the two forces is thus now the same as that
of the objective and subjective activities in abstraction from produc­
tion. —Just as the activity pent within the boundary, and that which
reaches to infinity beyond it, are merely the factors of productive intu­
ition, so also it is with the repulsive and attractive forces (of which one
is pent within the limiting point, while the other goes to infinity, al­
though the common boundary between then is a boundary for the lat­
ter only in relation to the former; they are divided by the common
boundary (which is absolutely contingent to both) and are merely the
factors for the construction of matter, not the constructive principle it­
self.
The constructive principle can only be a third force, which syn­
thesizes both, and corresponds to the synthetic activity of the self in
intuition. Only by means of this third synthetic activity was it intelli­
gible how the two activities, as absolutely opposed to each other, could
be posited in one and the same identical subject. The force corre­
sponding to this activity in the object will thus be that whereby these
two absolutely opposite forces are posited in one and the same identi­
cal subject.
(Kant, in his Metaphysical First Principles of Natural Science,
speaks of attraction as a pervasive force, but this he does only because
he already takes attraction to be gravitation (and thus not in its pure
sense), so that he only requires two forces for the construction of mat­
ter, while we deduce three of them to be necessary. —Attraction in the
pure sense, considered, that is, as a mere factor in the construction, is
certainly a force that operates immediately at a distance, but not a
pervasive force, since where there is nothing, there is nothing to per­
vade. It first acquires the property of pervasiveness on being incorpo­
rated into gravitation. Gravitation itself is not identical with attrac­
tion, though the latter is necessarily included therein. Nor is gravita­
tion a simple force, as attraction is, but, as will emerge from our de­
duction, a composite force.)
With gravitation, the truly productive and creative force, the
construction of matter is first completed, and it now merely remains
for us to draw the main conclusions from this construction.
86 System of Transcendental Idealism

Corollaries

It is a demand that can quite justifiably be made of a transcendental

enquiry, that it should explain why matter must necessarily be intuited
as extended in three dimensions, of which, so far as we know, no expla­
nation has hitherto been attempted; we therefore deem it necessary to
append here a deduction of the three dimensions of mattert directly
founded upon the three basic forces appertaining to the construction of
matter.
According to the investigations detailed above, three stages must
be distinguished in the construction of matter.
a) The first stage is that in which the two opposing forces are
thought of as united in one and the same point. The expansive force
will be able to operate outwards from this point in all directions,
though these latter will be distinguished only by means of the opposite
force, which alone furnishes the limiting point, and hence also the
point of direction. But these directions are not to be confused, say,
with dimensions, for a line, in whatever direction it be drawn, always
has but one dimension, namely that of length. The negative force gives
the intrinsically directionless expansive force a determinate direction.
But now it has been demonstrated that the negative force acts, not
mediately but immediately, upon the limiting point. Let us suppose,
therefore, that from point C, as the common source of both forces, the
negative force operates immediately on the limiting point of the line,
which limit may to start with still remain wholly indeterminate; then,
owing to its action at a distance, nothing whatever of the negative force
will be encountered up to a certain distance from C, the positive force
alone being dominant; but then some point A will occur on the line at
which both forces, the positive and the negative approaching in the op­
posite direction, stand in mutual equilibrium, and this point will thus
be neither positive nor negative, but wholly neutral. From this point
on, the dominance of the negative force will increase, until at some de­
terminate pointB it gains the ascendancy, at which juncture, there­
fore, the negative force alone prevails, and the line, for that very rea­
son, is limited absolutely. Point A will be the common limit of the two
forces; point B, the limiting point of the whole line.
The three points located on the line just constructed, & between
which and A the positive force is alone dominant, A, the mere equilib­
rium point of both forces, and lastly B, where only the negative force
prevails, are the same as those that are in fact discriminated in the
magnet.
Hence, without our having purposed it, and along with the
first dimension of matter, namely length, we have also deduced
magnetism, and from this a number of important conclusions can
now be drawn, whose further elaboration
[446-47] Magnetism and Electricity 87

cannot be presented in this book. It emerges, for example, from this

deduction, that in magnetic phenomena we see matter still at the first
stage of construction, where the two opposing forces are united in one
and the same point; that magnetism, accordingly, is a function, not of
any particular matter, but of matter in general, and is thus an authen­
tic category of physics; that the three points which nature has pre­
served for us in the magnet, while they are obliterated in other bodies,
are none other than the three points deduced a priori which pertain to
the real construction of length; that magnetism as such is therefore
the general constructor of length, etc. I merely add the remark that
this deduction also throws a light for us on the physics of magnetism,
which perhaps might never have been obtained from experiment,
namely that the positive pole (point C above) is the seat of both forces.
For that negative M appears to us only at the opposite point B is a nec­
essary fact, since the negative force can only act at a distance. Given
this one proviso, the three points in the magnetic line are necessary.
Conversely, the existence of these three points in the magnet proves
that the negative force is one that acts at a distance, just as the whole
coincidence between our a priori constructed line and that of the mag­
net proves the correctness of our entire deduction.
b) In the line just constructed, point B is the limit of the line as
such, point A the common boundary of the two forces. A limit is pos­
ited as such by the negative force; but now if, as ground of limitation,
the negative force is itself limited, there arises a limitation of limita­
tion, and this falls at point A, the common boundary of the two forces.
Since the negative force is no less infinite than the positive, the
limit at 4 will be no less contingent for it than for the positive force.
But if A is contingent in regard to both forces, we can also think
of the line CAB as divided into two lines, CA and AB, separated from
each other by the boundary A
This stage, which presents the two opposite forces as completely
external to each other and separated by the boundary, is the second in
the construction of matter, and the same as that represented in nature
by electricity, For if ABC represents a magnet whose positive pole is
A, its negative C, and its neutral point B, the schema of electricity at
once arises for me by my representing this one body as separated into
AB and BC, of which each represents one of the two forces exclusively.
The strict demonstration of this claim is, however, as follows.
So long as the two opposite forces are thought of as united in
one and the same point, nothing can result
88 System of Transcendental Idealism [447-48]

save the line above constructed, since the direction of the positive force
is so far determined by the negative that it can perforce go only to­
wards the one point at which the boundary falls. The opposite will
happen, therefore, as soon as the two forces are parted from each
other. Let C be the point at which both forces are united. If we sup­
pose this point stationary, then round about it is a countless set of
points to which it could move, if it were capable of purely mechanical
motion. But now at this point there is a force which can move in all
these directions at once, namely the expansive force, originally
directionless, and thus capable of all directions. This force will thus be
able to pursue all these directions at once, but in every single line that
it describes will nevertheless be unalterably capable of following just
this one direction, so long as the negative force is not separated there­
from; it will thus also operate in all directions only in the pure dimen­
sion of length. As soon as the two forces are completely distinct, the
opposite will happen. For no sooner does point C shift (in the direction
CA, for example) than already, at the next position it occupies, it is
surrounded by innumerable points, to all of which it can move. The
expansive force, now wholly given over to its tendency to spread in all
directions, will therefore again throw out lines in all directions from
every point along line CA; these will form angles with CA and thus the
dimension of length will be supplemented by that of breadth. The
same, however, also holds of all the lines which point C, still supposed
stationary, radiates in the other directions, so that none of these lines
will now continue to represent mere length.
Now that this stage of construction will be represented in nature
by electricity, is evident from the fact that, unlike magnetism, the lat­
ter does not act in merely linear fashion, seeking and guided by
length, but adds to the pure length of magnetism the dimension of
breadth, in that it spreads over the whole surface of a body to which it
is conveyed; yet no more acts in depth than does magnetism, since, as
we know, it seeks merely length and breadth.
c) As surely as the two now completely separated forces are
originally forces of one and the same point, so surely must their cleav­
age occasion a striving in both for a return to unity. But this can
come about only by means of a third force, which can intervene
among the two opposed forces and in which these may interpenetrate.
This mutual interpenetration of the two forces by means of a third
first endows the product with impenetrability, and by this property
adds to the two earlier dimensions a third, namely thickness.
[448-50] Chemical Process and Galvanism 89

whereby the construction of matter is first completed.

In the first stage of construction, the two forces, though united
in one subject, were yet separated, so that, in the above-constructed
line CAB, CA is positive force only, and AB only negative; in the sec­
ond stage they are actually divided among different subjects. In the
third, both are so far united into a common product, that there is no
point in the entire product at which both forces will not be simulta­
neously present, in such wise that now the whole product is neutral.
This third stage of construction is evinced in nature through the
chemical process. For that the two bodies in a chemical process repre­
sent only the original opposition of the two forces is evident from the
fact that they mutually interpenetrate, which only forces can be
thought to do. But that two bodies should represent the original oppo­
sition is again unthinkable unless in each of them one of the two forces
secures absolute predominance.
It is through the third force, wherein the two opposites so inter­
penetrate that the whole product is at every point attractive and re­
pulsive force at once, that the third dimension is first added to the
other two; and in just the same fashion, the chemical process is the
fulfillment of the first two, of which one seeks length only, and the
other only length and breadth, until finally the chemical process oper­
ates in all three dimensions at once, wherein, for that very reason, a
genuine interpenetration is also alone possible.
If the construction of matter runs through these three stages, it
may be expected, a priori, that the three stages in question will also be
more or less distinguishable in individual natural bodies; it is even
possible to determine a priori the position in the series at which any
one of these stages must especially emerge or disappear; for example,
that the first stage must be distinguishable only in the most rigid bod­
ies, whereas it is utterly unrecognizable in liquids; which actually
yields an a priori principle for the distinguishing of natural bodies,
e.g., into liquid and solid, and for establishing an order among them.
In place of the more special expression of chemical process,
whereby every process whatever is included, so far as it transforms
into a product, we may seek a general expression instead. If so, we
shall have to take note in the first place that according to the prin­
ciples so far derived, the condition of the real product is essentially a
trinity of forces; and hence that a process must be sought a priori in
nature, in which this trinity of forces is recognizable above all others.
Such a process is galvanism^ which is not a single process, but the
general expression for all processes that transform into a product.
90 System of Transcendental Idealism

General Note upon the First Epoch

There will doubtless be no reader who in the course of our enquiry has
not made the following observation.
In the first epoch of self-consciousness we could distinguish
three acts, and these seem to reappear in the three forces of matter
and in the three stages of its construction. These three stages of con­
struction give us three dimensions of matter, and these latter, three
levels in the dynamic process. It is very natural to hit upon the idea
that it is always just one and the same trinity that recurs among these
various forms. To develop this idea and gain a complete grasp of the
connection so far merely surmised, a comparison of the three acts of
the self with the three stages in the construction of matter will not be
devoid of usefulness.
Transcendental philosophy is nothing else but a constant raising
of the self to a higher power; its whole method consists in leading the
self from one level of self-intuition to another, until it is posited with
all the determinations that are contained in the free and conscious act
of self-consciousness.
The first act, from which the whole history of intelligence sets
forth, is the act of self-consciousness insofar as it is not free but still
unconscious. The same act, which the philosopher postulates from the
very outset, when thought without consciousness, yields the first act of
our object, the self.
In this act the self is for us, indeed, but not for itself, both sub­
ject and object at once; it presents, as it were, that point we noted in
the construction of matter, at which the two activities, the originally
unlimited and the limitant, are still united.
The result of this act is again for us only, not for the self itself, a
limitation of the objective activity by the subjective. But the limiting
activity, as itself illimitable and acting at a distance, must necessarily
be thought of as striving out beyond the point of limitation.
In this first act, therefore, exactly the same determinations are
contained as those which also distinguish the first stage in the con­
struction of matter.
In this act there really does occur a common construction out
of the self as object and as subject, but this construction does not
exist for the self itself. Hence we were driven on to a second act,
which is a self-intuiting of the self in this state of limitation. Since
the self cannot be aware of its limitation as having been posited by it­
self, this intuiting is merely a finding, or sensing. Since, therefore,
the self is not conscious in this act of its own activity, whereby it is
limited, there is at once and immediately
[451-52] Mind and Matter 91

posited along with sensation—not for the self, but certainly for us—the
contrast between self and thing-in-itself.
Stated in other terms, this amounts to saying that in this second
act there is a separation—not for the self, but for us—of the two activi­
ties originally united therein into two entirely different and mutually
external activities, namely into that of the self on the one hand, and
that of the thing on the other. The activities, which are originally
those of an identical subject, are divided between different subjects.
Hence it becomes clear that the second stage we assume in the
construction of matter, namely the stage where the two forces become
forces of different subjects, is exactly the same for physics as this sec­
ond act of intelligence is for transcendental philosophy. It is also now
evident that already with the first and second acts a start has been
made with the construction of matter, or that the self, without know­
ing it, is already from the first act onwards engaged, as it were, upon
the construction of matter.
A further remark, which shows us more closely yet the identity
of the dynamic and the transcendental, and affords us a glimpse of the
far-reaching interconnections stemming from the present point, is as
follows. This second act is the act of sensation. Now what, then, is it
that becomes an object to us through sensation? Nothing else but qual­
ity. But all quality is simply electricity, a proposition that is demon­
strated in natural philosophy. But electricity is precisely that
whereby we designate in nature this second stage in construction.
One might therefore say that what sensation is in the realm of intelli­
gence, electricity is in nature.
The identity of the third act with the third stage of the construc­
tion of matter really requires no proof. Thus it is obvious that in con­
structing matter the self is in truth constructing itself. The third act
is that by means of which the self as sensing becomes an object to it­
self. But this is incapable of derivation unless the two activities, so far
completely separated, are exhibited in one and the same identical
product. This product, namely matter, is thus a complete construction
of the self, though not for the self itself, which is still identical with
matter. If the self in the first act is intuited only as object, and in the
second only as subject, it now becomes objectified in the third act as
both at once—for the philosopher, of course, not for itself. For itself it
is objectified in this act as a subject only. That it appears merely as
matter is necessary, since in this act it admittedly is a subject-object,
but without intuiting itself as such.
92 System of Transcendental Idealism [452-54]

The concept of the self that the philosopher starts from is that of a
subject-object which is conscious of itself as such. Matter is not so con­
scious, and through it, therefore, the self, likewise, does not become
objectified as a self. But now transcendental philosophy is completed
only when the self becomes an object to itselfjust as it does to the phi­
losopher. Hence also the circuit of this science cannot be closed with
the present epoch.
The result of the comparison so far instituted is that the three
stages in the construction of matter really do correspond to the three
acts in the intelligence. So if these three phases of nature are actually
three stages in the history of self-consciousness, it is evident enough
that really all forces of the universe ultimately relate back to presents­
tive forces, a principle underlying the idealism of Leibniz, which, prop­
erly understood, does not in fact differ from transcendental idealism.
When Leibniz calls matter the sleeping state of monads, or when
Hemsterhuis speaks of it as congealed mind, there lies in these state­
ments a meaning very easy to discern from the principles now put for­
ward. Matter is indeed nothing else but mind viewed in an equilib­
rium of its activities. There is no need to demonstrate at length how,
by means of this elimination of all dualism, or all real opposition be­
tween mind and matter, whereby the latter is regarded merely as
mind in a condition of dullness, or the former, conversely, as matter
merely in becoming, a term is set to a host of bewildering enquiries
concerning the relationship of the two.
There is equally little need of any further discussion to show
that this view leads to far more elevated notions of the nature and dig­
nity of matter than any others; for example, atomism, which con­
structs matter out of atoms, without considering that we advance not a
step thereby towards its true nature, since the atoms themselves are
just matter.
The construction of matter deduced a priori provides the basis
for a general theory of natural phenomena, in which there is hope of
being able to dispense with all the hypotheses and fictions which an
atomistic physics will never cease to require. Before even the
atomistic physicist actually arrives at the explanation of a natural
phenomenon, he is obliged to make a mass of assumptions, e.g” con­
cerning materials to which he assigns, quite arbitrarily and without
the smallest evidence, a multitude of properties, simply because he can
use just these and no others for his explanation. But once it is estab*
lished that the ultimate causes of natural phenomena can never be in­
vestigated by the aid of experience, there is nothing for it but either to
[454] Mind and Matter 93

renounce knowing them altogether, or to invent them as atomistic

physics does, or else to discover them priori9 which is the sole source of
knowledge remaining to us apart from experience.
94 System of Transcendental Idealism

SECOND EPOCH: From Productive Intuition to Reflection

Introductory

The first epoch closes with the selfs elevation to intelligence. The two
activities, wholly separated and located in quite different spheres, are,
by the third that intervenes upon them, again posited in one and the
same product. By this intervention in both of a third activity, the ac­
tivity of the thing again also becomes an activity of the self, which, by
that very fact, is itself elevated into an intelligence.
But the self, in its intuitive capacity, is also completely fettered
and bound in its producing, and cannot be both intuitant and intuited
at once. The production is thus totally blind and unconscious. In ac­
cordance with the now familiar method of transcendental philosophy,
the question now arises, therefore, how the self, which has so far been
intuitant and intelligent only for us, becomes this also for itself, or in­
tuits itself as such. But now no ground whatever can be thought of,
which would determine the self to intuit itself as productive, unless in
the production itself there lies a ground whereby the ideal activity of
the self that is involved in producing is driven back upon itself, and is
thereby led to transcend the product. The question as to how the self
recognizes itself as productive is thus the same as asking how it is able
to tear itself free from its production and to transcend the latter.
Before embarking upon the solution of this problem itself, the
following remark will serve to give a preliminary idea of the content of
the next epoch.
The whole topic of our enquiry is simply the elucidation of self­
consciousness. All acts of the self that we have so far derived, or will
derive henceforth, are but the intermediate stages through which
our object attains to self-consciousness. Self-consciousness itself is a
determinate act, and so all these intermediaries must also be determi­
nate acts. But through every determinate act a determinate product
arises for the self. Now the selfs concern was not with the product,
but with itself. It seeks to intuit, not the product, but itself in the
product. Now it would, however, be possible, and is, as we shall soon
see, actually necessary, that in the very act of striving to intuit itself
in production the condition of a new product should arise for the self;
and so on indefinitely, were it not for the addition of a new and hith­
erto unknown limitation, such that there is no
[455-56] Inner and Outer Intuition 95

seeing how the self, having once launched into production, should ever
again emerge from it, since the condition of all producing, and the
mechanism thereof, is constantly reinstated.
Hence, in trying to explain how the self gets clear of production,
we shall in fact involve our object in a whole series of productions. We
shall thus be able to resolve the main problem of this epoch only in a
very indirect fashion, and only so long as there will arise for our ob­
ject, instead of what we sought, something entirely different, until we
finally break out of this circle, as it were, by an act of reflection occur­
ring with absolute spontaneity. Between this point of absolute reflec­
tion and the present point of consciousness there lies as an intermedi­
ate stage the whole multiplicity of the objective world, its products and
phenomena.
Since our whole philosophy proceeds from the standpoint of in­
tuition, not that of reflection, occupied, for instance, by Kant and his
philosophy, we shall also derive the now incipient series of acts of the
intelligence as acts, and not, say, as concepts of acts, or as categories.
For how these acts attain to reflection is the problem for a later epoch
of self-consciousness.

Problem: To explain how the self comes to intuit itself

as productive

Solution
I
After the self has once become productive, we must renounce the idea
that it should intuit itself as a simple activity. But that it should in­
tuit itself as producing, cannot be conceived unless directly through
production there should arise for it a further ideal activity, whereby it
intuits itself therein.
Thus it will meanwhile be assumed as a hypothesis merely, that
the self has an intuition of itself in its producing, in order thereby to
find the conditions of such an intuition. If these conditions are actu­
ally to be found in consciousness, we shall thereupon conclude that
such an intuition does indeed take place, and will try to discover its
outcome.
The first thing we can establish in this matter is the
following: if the self is to intuit itself as
96 System of Transcendental Idealism [456-58]

producing, it must necessarily distinguish itself at the same time from

itself insofar as it is not producing. For in that it intuits itself as pro­
ducing, it undoubtedly regards itself as a determinate; but this it can­
not do without opposing to itself something else, whatever the latter
may be.
To facilitate the enquiry, we ask straightaway what in fact this
nonproductive element in the self will be, to which the productive ele­
ment must be opposed? Here this much, at least, can already be dis­
cerned. Insofar as it produces, the self is not a simple, but a compound
activity (in the sense in which one speaks» for example, of a compound
motion in mechanics). The nonproductive element in the self must
therefore be opposed to the productive as a simple activity.
Moreover, in order to be opposed to each other, the productive
activity and this simple activity must at the same time again coincide
in a higher concept. In relation to the latter, both must appear as one
activity, and their difference, therefore, as something merely con­
tingent. It will have to appear that, if something be posited, the two
activities are different, and if something be not posited, both are iden­
tical.
There will have, furthermore, again to be three activities in the
self, one simple, one compound, and a third which divides them from
each other and relates them together. Now this third activity must
necessarily itself be a simple one, for without that it could not distin­
guish the combination for what it is. This simple activity, to which the
combination is related, is therefore at once the relating activity, and, if
the latter be characterized, it is also that which is related.
But now the relating activity can be no other than the ideal ac­
tivity we postulated earlier, reemerging directly through production.
This, precisely because it is ideal, is directed solely to the self itself
and is nothing else but that simple intuitant activity which we posited
from the outset in the self.
The ground of relation of the two activities would thus be, that
they are both intuitant, while the ground of difference would be that
one is a simple intuitant activity, the other a compound one.
If both activities are to be posited as intuitant, both must have
originated from a single principle. The condition under which both are
different must thus appear as contingent in relation to that principle.
This contingency is common to both; what is contingent, therefore, for
the productive activity is also contingent for the simple one. Now can
we find a contingent element in production which could simulta­
neously form the common boundary of both activities?
To discover this, let us turn the question round.
[458-59] Inner and Outer Intuition 97

What, then, is the essential, necessary element in production? The

necessary is that which is the condition of producing as such, and the
contingent or accidental will therefore be the opposite, and hence that
which restricts or limits production.
That which restricts production is the activity, in opposition to
the self, of the thing-in-itself. But this cannot be contingent for pro­
duction, for it is a necessary condition of producing. It is not, there­
fore, the restricting factor itself that will be contingent, but the re­
stricting of that restriction.
To be more explicit: the thing-in-itselfs activity explains for me
in general only a restriction of the now productive activity, but not the
contingency of this restriction, or that it is this one in particular. The
activity of the thing-in-itself is} in and for itself, no more limited than
that of the self.
That it is the thing-in-itselfs activity which limits the self is ex­
plicable in that it is opposed thereto; but that it limits the self in a par­
ticular fashion> which itself is not possible unless it be likewise lim­
ited—this can no longer be derived from the opposition in question. It
could, after all, be opposed to the self without being so in this particu­
lar way.
The necessary factor in production therefore lies in the opposi­
tion as such; the contingent, in the limit of this opposition. But this is
nothing else but the communal boundaiy lying between self and thing.
The boundary is common, that is, it is a boundary no less for the thing
than for the self.
Combining our conclusions, we obtain the following result. The
two intuitant activities, in principle identical, are differentiated by the
contingent boundary of the self and the thing-in-itself; or, that which
is the boundary of self and thing is also the boundary of these two
intuitant activities.
The simple intuitant activity has merely the self itself as its ob­
ject; the compound, both self and thing together. The latter, for this
very reason, partly oversteps the boundary, or is both inside and out­
side the boundary at once. But now the self is only a self within the
boundary, for beyond that boundary it has transformed itself, for it­
self, into the thing-in-itself. The intuition that oversteps the boundary
therefore goes at the same time beyond the self as such, and to that ex­
tent appears as outer intuition. The simple intuitant activity remains
within the self, and can to that extent be termed inner intuition.
The relationship of the two intuitant activities is thus as follows.
The sole boundary between inner and outer intuition is that between
self and thing-in-itself. Once remove it, and inner and outer intuition
98 System of Transcendental Idealism [459-60]

merge into one. Outer sense begins at the point where inner sense
leaves ofE What appears to us as the object of outer sense is merely a
boundary point of inner sense, and hence both of them, outer and in­
ner, are also in origin identical, for outer sense is merely inner sense
subjected to a limit. Outer sense is necessarily also inner, though by
contrast, inner is not necessarily also outer. All intuition is in prin­
ciple intellectual, and hence the objective world is merely the intellec­
tual world appearing under restrictions.
The outcome of the whole enquiry consists in the following. If
the self is to intuit itself as producing, inner and outer sense must
firstly part company therein, and secondly there must be a relation of
each to the other. The question at once arises, therefore, as to what
the relating factor of the two intuitions will be.
The relating factor is necessarily something common to both.
But now inner intuition had nothing in common with outer intuition
as such, though conversely, outer intuition certainly had something in
common with inner, for outer sense is also inner sense. Thus the re­
lating factor of outer and inner sense is itself once more inner sense.
Here we first begin to grasp how the self may be able to arrive
at opposing outer and inner sense to itself, and at relating them to one
another. For this in fact would never happen, if the relating factor, in­
ner sense, were not itself incorporated in outer intuition, as the sole
active and constructive principle therein; for if outer sense is inner
sense under limitation, we are obliged, in contrast, to posit inner
sense, as such, as originally illimitable. Inner sense is thus nothing
else but the illimitable tendency of the self, posited therein from the
very outset, to self-intuition; and at this point is distinguished only for
the first time as inner sense, and thus as the same activity which, in
the foregoing act, was immediately limited by its overstepping of the
boundary.
If the self is to recognize itself in outer intuition as
intuitant, it must needs relate outer intuition to the now reinstated
ideal intuition, which now appears, however, as inner intuition. But
the self is itself nothing other than this ideal intuition, for the simul­
taneously ideal and real intuition is something quite different; hence
the relating element, and that to which it relates, will in this act be
one and the same. Now outer intuition could indeed be related to
inner, for the two are different and yet again there is a ground of
identity between them. But the self cannot relate outer intuition to
inner, qua inner, for it cannot in one and the same act relate outer
intuition to itself, and in doing so, simultaneously reflect
[460-61] Inner and Outer Intuition 99

again upon itself as the ground of relation. Thus it could not relate
outer intuition to inner, qua inner, for, according to presumption, it
would itself be nothing else but inner intuition; and were it to acknow­
ledge inner intuition as such, it would have again to be something
other than this.
In the foregoing act, the self was a producer, but producer and
produced lapsed into one; the self and its object were one and the
same. We now seek an act in which the self shall recognize itself as
producing. If this were possible, no trace at all of an intuited would
evince itself in consciousness. But productive intuition, if it were rec­
ognized, would be recognized as such only in contrast to inner intu­
ition. But now inner intuition itself would not be acknowledged as in­
ner, precisely because the self in this act would be nothing else but in­
ner intuition, and hence even outer intuition could not be acknowl­
edged as such, and since it can be recognized only as outer intuition, it
could not be acknowledged as intuition at all. There would accord­
ingly be nothing left of this whole act in consciousness, save on the one
side the intuited (detached from the intuition) and on the other the
self as ideal activity, though this latter is now inner sense.
In empirical consciousness there is no trace whatever of an
outer intuition, qua act, nor should there be; it is, however, most im­
portant to enquire how in such a consciousness the object and an inner
sense as yet unlimited and wholly free, for example, in the projecting
of schemata, etc., can coexist together. —The thing-in-itself likewise
makes no more appearance in consciousness than does the act of outer
intuition; repressed from consciousness by the sensory object, it is sim­
ply an ideal explanatory ground of consciousness, and, like the acts of
the intelligence itself lies, for intelligence, beyond consciousness. As
ground of explanation, the thing-in-itself needs only a philosophy that
stands a few steps higher than empirical consciousness. Empiricism
will never ascend to this level. By the thing-in-itself, which he intro­
duced into philosophy, Kant has at least provided the first impulse
which could carry philosophy beyond ordinary consciousness, and has
at least shown that the ground of the object that appears in conscious­
ness cannot itself again lie in consciousness; but he never even consid­
ered clearly, let alone explained, that this ground of explanation lying
beyond consciousness is in the end no more than our own ideal activ­
ity, merely hypostatized into the thing-in-itself.
100 System of Transcendental Idealism [462-63]

The outcome of the relationship hypothetically assumed would be, on

the one side, the sensory object (separated from intuition as an act),
and on the other, inner sense. Both together engender a self having
sensation with consciousness. For what we call inner sense is nothing
else but the consciously sensing element in the sel£ In the original act
of sensation the self had sensation without having it for itself, that is,
it was sensing without consciousness. Through the act just derived, of
which indeed, for the reasons given, nothing can remain in the self
save the sensory object on the one hand and inner sense on the other,
it is evident that through productive intuition the self comes to have
sensation with consciousness.
In accordance with the sufficiently familiar procedure of tran­
scendental philosophy, the question of how the self recognizes itself as
producing must now therefore be framed as follows: how the self be­
comes to itself an object as having sensation with consciousness? Or,
since sensation with consciousness and inner sense are the same, how
the self also becomes to itself an object as inner sense?
Thus the whole course of the enquiry will have as its object the
act of relation just derived (I), and must try to make this latter intelli­
gible.
It is easy to perceive the following. The self can distinguish it­
self as having sensation with consciousness only by opposing the ob­
ject, as merely intuited and thus without consciousness, to itself as the
conscious (having sensation with consciousness).
Now the object, transcendentally regarded, is nothing else but
outer or productive intuition itself. Only the self cannot become con­
scious of this intuition as such. The object must thus be opposed to in­
ner sense precisely as outer sense was opposed thereto. But the oppo­
sition of the two intuitions, inner and outer, merely engendered the
boundary lying between them. Hence the object is an object only inso­
far as it is bounded by the same limit whereby inner and outer sense
were distinguished, which now therefore is no longer the boundaiy be­
tween inner and outer sense, but the boundary dividing the con­
sciously sensing self from the wholly unconscious object.
Thus the self cannot oppose the object to itself without
recognizing the boundary as a boundary. So how then is the latter
determined? —As contingent in either respect, for the thing no less
than for the self. But to what extent is it, in fact, a boundary for
the self? It is not indeed a limit to activity, but rather to the
passivity in the self, a passivity, of course,
[463-64] Inner Sense and Sensory Object 101

in the real and objective sel£ The selfs passivity was limited by the
very fact that its ground was posited in a thing-in-itself^ which itself
was necessarily a limited affair. But that which is boundary for the
thing-in-itself (the ideal activity), is boundary of the passivity of the
real self, not its activity, for this is already restricted by the thing-in-
itself as such.
As to what the boundary of the thing may be, that question now
answers itself. Self and thing are so opposed, that what is passivity in
the one is activity in the other. So if the boundary limits the passivity
of the sel£ it necessarily sets a limit to the activity of the thing, and
only to that extent is it the common boundary of them both.
Thus the boundary, too, can only be recognized as such if it is
recognized as bounding the activity of the thing. The question arises,
how we are to conceive of this.
The boundary is to set limit to the activity of the thing, and it is
to be contingent, not only to the self merely, but equally so to the
thing. If it is contingent to the thing, the latter must originally, and in
and for itself, be unlimited activity. Hence the fact that the things ac­
tivity is limited must be inexplicable from its own nature, and hence
explicable only from a ground external to it.
Where are we to look for this ground? In the self? But from our
present standpoint, this explanation will simply not do any longer.
That the self should unconsciously be the cause once more of this limi­
tation of the thing (the ideal activity) and thereby of its own passiv­
ity―that is, as will soon appear, of its own particular limitation—is
something of which the self itself can know nothing. So the ground of
limitation of the things activity, and hence indirectly of the limited
passivity of the self, can be sought by the self itself nowhere but in
something that now lies wholly outside consciousness> but yet inter­
venes in the present phase of consciousness. As surely, therefore, as
the self must acknowledge the boundary as a boundary, so surely must
it also overstep the boundary, and seek its ground in something that
now no longer falls within consciousness. This unknown, which we
shall meanwhile describe as A, therefore lies necessarily beyond the
producing of the present object, which we may designate as A Thus
while the self was producing B, A must already have existed. So in the
present phase of consciousness, nothing can any longer be changed in
A; it is, so to speak, out of the hands of the self, for it lies beyond the
current act of the latter, and is unalterably determined for the sel£
Once A is posited, B too must be posited just so and no otherwise as it
is now in fact posited.
102 System of Transcendental Idealism [464-65]

For A contains the ground of its determinate limitation.

But the self is now no longer conscious of this ground A. The de­
terminate limitation ofB will thus indeed be a contingent one for the
self, since it is unaware of the ground thereof, whereas for us, who do
know of this, it is a necessary limitation.
A further remark by way of explanation: —the particular
determinacy ofB is to have its ground in an A which now lies wholly
outside consciousness. But that this A is this particular one may per­
haps have its ground in something else again, lying still further back,
and so perhaps back ad infinitum, unless indeed we light upon a gen­
eral ground which determines the whole series. Now this general
ground can be nothing else but what we termed at the very outset the
limitation within limitation; at present we have not yet fully derived
this, but so far as we can already see here, its ground rests solely upon
that common boundary between ideal and real activity.
If the self is to recognize the boundary between itself and the ob­
ject as contingent, it must recognize this as conditioned by something
that lies wholly outside the present phase. It therefore feels itself
driven back to a stage of which it cannot be conscious. It feels itself
driven back, for it cannot in fact go back. There is therefore in the self
a state of incapacity, a state of constraint. That which contains the
ground of the specific limitedness of B is already present in actuality
and independently of the self. In regard to A there will thus occur in
the self only an ideal producing, or a reproducing. But all reproducing
is free, since it is a wholly ideal activity. A must indeed be precisely so
determined that it contains the ground of the specific limitedness ofB;
hence, in reproducing A, the self will admittedly not be materially free,
but will be so formally. By contrast, in the producing ofB it was free
neither formally nor materially, for once A existed it was bound to pro­
duce B precisely as determined in that fashion, and could not produce
anything else in its stead. Hence the self here is in one and the same
act at once formally free and formally constrained. The one is con­
ditioned by the other. In regard to B the self could not feel itself con­
strained, if it were not able to revert to an earlier stage, where B did
not yet exist and it felt itself free in regard thereto. But conversely
also, it would not feel itself driven back if it did not feel itself con­
strained in the present stage.
The state of the self at the present juncture is thus briefly
as follows. It feels itself driven back to a stage of consciousness
to which it cannot, in
[465-67] Inner Sense and Sensory Object 103

fact, return. The common boundary of self and object, the ground of
the second limitation, forms the boundary between the present stage
and a past one. The feeling of being thus driven back to a stage that it
cannot in reality return to is the feeling of the present. Thus at the
first stage of its consciousness the self already finds itself trapped in a
present. For it cannot oppose the object to itself without feeling itself
restricted and committed, as it were, to a single point. This feeling is
no other than that which we describe as self-awareness. All conscious­
ness begins with it, and by it the self first posits itself over against the
object.
In self-awareness, inner sense, that is, sensation combined with
consciousness, becomes an object to itself. It is for that very reason en­
tirely different from sensation, into which there necessarily enters
something different from the self In the previous act, the self was in­
ner sense, but without being so for itself.
But now hoiut then, does the self become an object to itself as in­
ner sense? Simply and solely through the fact that time arises for it
(not time insofar as it is already externally intuited, but time as a
mere point, a mere limit). In that the self opposes to itself the object,
there arises for it the feeling of self-awareness, that is, it becomes an
object to itself as pure intensity, as activity which can extend itself
only in one dimension, but is at present concentrated at a single point;
but in fact this unidimensionally extensible activity, when it becomes
an object to itself, is time. Time is not something that flows indepen­
dently of the self; the self itself is time conceived of in activity.
Now since in this act the self opposes to itself the object, the lat­
ter will have to appear to it as the negation of all intensity, that is, will
have to appear to it as pure extensity.
Thus the self cannot oppose the object to itself without inner and
outer intuition not only separating themselves within the self, but also
becoming, as such, objects.
But now the intuition whereby inner sense becomes an object to
itself is time (though we are speaking here of pure time, i.e., time in its
total independence of space); the intuition whereby outer sense be­
comes an object to itself is space* Hence the self cannot oppose the ob­
ject to itself without on the one hand inner sense becoming an object to
it, through time, and on the other, outer sense becoming an object,
through space.

Ill
In the first construction of the object, inner and outer sense were
involved together. The object appears as
104 System of Transcendental Idealism [467-68]

pure extensity only when outer sense becomes objectified to the self,
because it is in fact inner sense itself to which outer sense is objecti­
fied; hence the two can no longer be united, which was not so, how­
ever, in the original construction. Thus the object is neither merely
inner nor merely outer sense, but both of them at once, in such a way
that each is reciprocally restricted by the other.
Hence, to determine the object more accurately than hitherto as
the union of both forms of intuition, we must distinguish still more
strictly than has yet been done the opposing members of the synthesis.
So what, then, is inner sense, and what is outer—both consid­
ered in their unrestricted form?
Inner sense is nothing else but the selfs activity driven back
into itself. If we consider inner sense as absolutely unrestricted by
outer, the self will be in its highest state of feeling, its whole illimit­
able activity concentrated, as it were, upon a single point. If, on the
contrary, we consider outer sense as unrestricted by inner, it will be
the absolute negation of all intensity, the self will be wholly dissolved,
there will be no resistance therein.
Inner sense, considered in its unrestrictedness, will thus be rep­
resented by the point, the absolute boundary, or by the image of time
in its independence of space. For time, considered in and for itself is
merely the absolute boundary, and hence the first synthesis of time
with space, which so far, however, has not yet been derived at all, can
be expressed only by the line, or by the expanded point.
The opposite of the point, or absolute extensity, is the negation
of all intensity, uiz., infinite spacet likewise the dissolved self.
Hence, in the object itself, that is, in producing, space and time
can only arise together and unseparated from each other. Both are
opposed to each other, precisely because they mutually restrict each
other. Both, for themselves, are equally infinite, though in opposing
senses. Time becomes finite only through space, space only through
time. That one becomes finite through the other means that one is de­
termined and measured through the other. Hence the most basic mea­
sure of time is the space traversed by a uniformly moving body
therein, and the most basic measure of space is the time that a uni­
formly moving body requires in order to traverse it. Both therefore
show themselves as absolutely inseparable.
But now space is nothing else but objectified outer sense,
and time nothing else but objectified inner sense, so what holds
of space and time is also true of outer and inner sense. The object
is outer sense determined
[468-69] Space and Time 105

by inner. Extensity is thus not merely spatial size in the object, but
extensity determined by intensity, in a word, what we call force. For
the intensity of a force can only be measured by the space in which it
can diffuse itself without becoming equal to zero. Just as, conversely,
this space is again determined by the size of that force for inner sense.
So what corresponds in the object to inner sense is intensity, and what
corresponds to outer, extensity. But intensity and extensity are mutu­
ally determined by each other. The object is nothing else but fixated,
merely present time, and yet time is fixed simply and solely by the
space that is occupied, and the occupancy of space is determined sim­
ply and solely by the amount of time, which is not itself in space but is
extensione prior. So that which determines the occupancy of space has
a mere existence in time, and that which, conversely, fixes time has a
mere existence in space. But now that in the object which has mere
existence in time, is precisely that whereby the object belongs to inner
sense, and the magnitude of the object for inner sense is determined
solely by the common boundary of inner and outer sense, which
boundary appears as absolutely contingent. Hence that in the object
which corresponds to inner sense, or has magnitude merely in time,
will appear as the absolutely contingent or accidental; while that, on
the other hand, which corresponds in the object to outer sense, or has
magnitude in space, will appear as the necessary or the substantial.
Hence, just as the object is extensity and intensity at once, so likewise
is it also substance and accident at once; both are inseparable therein,
and only through both together is the object completed.
That which is substance in the object has only magnitude in
space, and that which is accident, magnitude only in time. Time is
fixed through the occupancy of space, and space occupied in determi­
nate fashion through magnitude in time.
If now, armed with this result, we return to the question from
which this enquiry began, the outcome is as follows. —The self was
obliged to oppose the object to itself in order to recognize it as an ob­
ject, But in this opposition, outer and inner sense became objects for
the self, that is, for us, as philosophers, space and time could be distin­
guished in the self, and substance and accident in the object. —That
substance and accident were distinguishable therefore rested simply
on the fact that the one has only being in time ascribed to it, and the
other only being in space. Only through the accidents of intuition is
the self restricted to time as such, for substance, since it only has be­
ing in space, also has a being wholly independent of time, and leaves
the intelligence wholly unrestricted in regard to time.
106 System of Transcendental Idealism [469-71]

Since, then, in this manner, and through the act of the self de­
duced in the foregoing, space and time have become, for the philoso­
pher, distinguishable in the self, and substance and accident in the ob~
jectt we now ask} according to our established method, how space and
time, and thereby substance and accident, also become distinguishable
for the self itself!
Time is merely inner sense becoming an object to itself, and
space is outer sense becoming an object thereto. Thus if both are
again to become objects, this can only take place through a higher,
that is, a productive, intuition. Both are intuitions of the self, which
can only again become objects to the self inasmuch as they emerge out
of the self. Now what do we mean by “out of the self? The self at the
present juncture is simply inner sense. So what is out of the self is
that which exists only for outer sense. Space and time alike can thus
become objects to the self only through production, that is, since the
self has stopped producing (being now merely inner sense), only
through the fact that it now starts producing again. —But now in this
producing space and time, no less than inner and outer sense, are syn­
thetically united. Hence even by this second producing we should
have gained nothing: we should again stand towards it precisely as
we stood with the first, unless, say, this second producing were op­
posed to the first, so that by means of this opposition to the first it im­
mediately became an object to the self. —But that the second produc­
ing should be opposed to the first is conceivable only if the first is in
some sense restrictive of the second. —Hence, that the self as such
should start producing again can in no case have its ground in the first
producing, for this is merely the restricting factor of the second, and
presupposes something to be restricted, or a material for restriction;
the ground must lie, rather, in the intrinsic infinitude of the self.
The first producing cannot therefore be the ground of a transi­
tion from present producing to a subsequent one on the part of the self
as such, but only of the fact that the succeeding object is produced
with this particular degree of limitation. In a word, only the acciden­
tal features in the second producing can be determined by the first.
We designate the first producing as B, and the second as C. Now ifB
contains only the ground of the accidental in C, it can only be some­
thing accidental in B whereby that in C is determined. For that C is
limited byB in this particular manner is possible only ifB itself is lim­
ited in a particular way, that is, by virtue merely of that which is acci­
dental inB itself.
To facilitate the enquiry, and so that its goal
[471-72] Causality 107

will be seen right away, let it be observed that we are approaching the
deduction of the causal relation. Since this is in fact a point from
whence it is easier than in many other cases to discern the manner in
which categories are deduced in transcendental idealism, we may be
permitted to prefix a general remark about our procedure.
We deduce the causal relation as the necessary condition under
which alone the self can recognize the present object as an object. If
the presentation in intelligence as such were static, if time remained
fixed, the intelligence would not only contain no manifold of presenta­
tions (as would, of course, be the case), but even the present object
would not be recognized as present either.
The succession in the causal relation is a necessary one. From
the very outset there can be no thought of an arbitrary succession
among presentations. The choice which occurs, for example, in con­
struing the individual parts of a whole as those of an organism or an
artifact, is itself ultimately grounded in a causal relation. Whatever
part of the former I start from, I shall always be driven back from one
to another, and from this one to that, because in an organism every­
thing is reciprocally cause and effect. Admittedly, this is not the case
with an artifact, for here no part is cause of another, but each in fact
presupposes the other in the productive understanding of the maker.
So is it everywhere, where otherwise the succession of presentations
appears arbitrary, for example, in construing the individual parts in
inorganic nature, in which there is likewise a general interplay of all
the parts.
All categories are modes of action, whereby objects themselves
first come about for us. There is no object for the intelligence in the
absence of a causal relation, and the relation is for that very reason
inseparable from objects. If we judge that A is the cause of J3, this is to
say that the succession occurring between them is not only present in
my thoughts t but lies in the objects themselves. Neither A nor B could
exist at all, if they were not in this relation. Here, therefore, we have
not only succession as such, but a succession that is the condition of
the objects themselves. Now what, then, in idealism, can be under­
stood by this contrast between that which exists in thought merely,
and that which exists in the objects themselves? That the succession
is objective, means, for the idealist, that its ground lies, not in my free
and conscious thinking, but in my unconscious act of producing. That
the ground of this succession does not lie in us means that we are not
conscious of this succession before it takes place; its occurrence and
108 System of Transcendental Idealism [472-73]

the awareness thereof are one and the same. The succession must
come before us as inseparable from the appearances, just as the ap­
pearances present themselves as inseparable from the succession. For
experience, therefore, the result is the same, whether the succession
be linked to the things, or the things to the succession. The judgment
of common sense is merely that both are absolutely inseparable. It is
thus in fact completely illogical to attribute the succession to an act of
the intelligence, while the objects, by contrast, are held to arise inde­
pendently thereof. At least we should proclaim both, the succession no
less than the objects, to be equally independent of our presentations.
Let us revert to the connection. We now have two objects, B and
C. And what, in fact, was B? It was substance and accident insepara­
bly united. So far as it is substance, it is nothing else but fixated time
itself, for by the fact that time is fixed for us, substance arises for us,
and vice versa. So if there is also a sequence in time, substance itself
must again be that which persists through time. And substance, ac­
cordingly, can neither come to be nor pass away. It cannot come into
being, for if we posit something as doing so, a moment must have pre­
ceded in which it did not yet exist; but that moment must itself have
been fixed, and so in it there must have been something that persisted.
Hence, what now comes into being is only a determination of the per­
manent, not the permanent itself, which is always the same. Equally
little can substance disappear, for if something disappears, a perma­
nent of some kind must remain behind, whereby the moment of disap­
pearance is fixed. Hence that which disappeared was not the perma­
nent itself, but merely a determination thereof.
If therefore, no object can engender or abolish the substance of
another, it will in fact be only the accidental in the subsequent object
that can be determined by the preceding one, and conversely, it will be
only the accidental in the later object whereby the accidental in the
first is determined.
Now in that B determines something accidental in C, substance
and accident are separated in the object; substance persists, while the
accidents change—space abides, while time passes, and so both become
objects to the self in separation. But by this very fact the self also
finds itself translated into a new condition, namely into that of an in­
voluntary succession of presentations, and it is to this state that our
reflection must now turn.
<(The accidental inB contains the ground of an accidental
in C.M —This, however, is known only to us, who contemplate
the self. But now the intelligence
[473-75] Causality as Succession 109

itself must also recognize the accidental in B as the ground for that in
C; yet this is not possible unless both B and C are opposed in one and
the same act, and again related to one another. That they are both op­
posed is obvious, for B is repressed from consciousness by C and re­
treats into time past; B is the cause, C the effect, B the restricting fac­
tor, C the restricted. But how both can be related to each other is not
intelligible, since the self is now nothing else but a succession of pri­
mary presentations, of which one represses another. (On the same
grounds whereby the self is driven from B to C, it will also be driven
from C to Dt and so on.) Now it was indeed established that only acci­
dents can come and go, not substances. But then what is substance? It
is itself no more than the fixation of time. Hence even substances can­
not endure (for the self, needless to say, since the question how sub­
stances may somehow persist for themselves is wholly without mean­
ing); for time is now not fixated at all, but in flux (again, not in itself,
but only for the self), and so substances cannot be fixated, since the self
itself is not fixed, being now nothing save this succession itself.
This state of the intelligence, in which it is just a succession of
presentations, is in fact a merely intermediate condition, assumed
therein only by the philosopher, since it necessarily passes through this
state into the following*
Assuredly, substances must endure, if an opposition between C
and B is to be possible. It is, however, impossible for the succession to
be fixed unless it be through the very fact that opposing directions en­
ter into it. The succession has but one direction. This one direction,
abstracted from the succession, is what constitutes time, which, out­
wardly intuited, has but one dimension.
But opposing directions could enter into the succession only if the
self, while it is driven from B to C, is simultaneously driven back again
uponB; for then the opposing directions will cancel one another, the
succession will be fixated, and thereby also the substances. But now
the self can undoubtedly be driven back from C to B only in a manner
similar to that whereby it was driven from B to C. Exactly, that is, as
B contained the ground of a determination in C, so must C, in turn,
contain the ground of a determination in R But now this determina­
tion in B cannot have existed before C did, for the accidental in C is
supposed} after all, to contain the ground of it; C, however, arises for
the self as this particular determinate only at the present moment. C
as a substance may, indeed, have already existed previously, but of this
the self knows nothing just now; C arises for it absolutely in arising
110 System of Transcendental Idealism [475-76]

for it as this particular determinate, and hence that determination in

B, of which C is to contain the ground, must likewise come into being
only at this moment. Hence, in that one and the same indivisible mo­
ment in which C is determined by B, B too must conversely be deter­
mined by C. But nowB and C have been opposed to one another in
consciousness, so that a positing in C must necessarily be a
nonpositing in B, and vice versat of such a kind that if the determining
of C by JB is taken to be positive, that ofB by C must be posited as the
negative of this.
It scarcely needs pointing out that by way of the foregoing we
have derived all the determinations of the relation q( reciprocity. No
causal relation whatsoever can be thought of without reciprocity, for
no relation of effect to cause is possible, ie, the above-required opposi­
tion is impossible, unless the substances, as substrates of the relation­
ship, are fixated by each other. But this they cannot be unless the
causal relation is a reciprocal one. For if the substances are not in
reciprocity, both can admittedly be posited in consciousness, but only
in the sense that one is posited if the other is not, and vice versa; not,
however, in the sense that, in the same indivisible moment in which
one is posited, the other is likewise; though this is necessary, if the self
is to recognize both as standing in the causal relation. This condition,
that both of them—not just one and then the other, but both at once—
are posited, can only be conceived if each is posited through the other,
that is, if each is the ground of a determination in the other which is
proportional and opposite to the determination posited in itself; that is,
if both are in reciprocity with one another.
Through reciprocity the succession is fixated; it becomes a
present, and by this the simultaneity of substance and accident in the
object is again restored; B and C are at once both cause and effect. As
cause, each is substance, for it can be known as a cause only insofar as
it is intuited as persisting; as effect it is accident. Through reciprocity,
therefore, substance and accident are again synthetically united. The
possibility of cognizing the object as such is therefore governed, for the
self, by the necessity of the succession and the reciprocity; the former
abolishes the present (so that the self may go on beyond the object);
the latter, however, reinstates it.
B and C are thus at one and the same moment the reciprocal
ground of determinations in one another; but it has yet to be shown
that they are thereby also simultaneous outside this moment. For
the intelligence itself this simultaneity holds only for a moment; for
since it produces continually, and no ground has so
[476-77] Reciprocity and Coexistence 111

far been given whereby the producing itself should again be limited,
the intelligence is repeatedly carried away in the stream of succession.
So how it arrives at accepting a simultaneity of aZZ substances in the
world, that is, a universal reciprocity, is not yet explained thereby.
Along with reciprocity, the concept of coexistence is also simulta­
neously derived. All simultaneity occurs only through an act of the
intelligence, and coexistence is merely the condition of the primordial
succession of our presentations. Substances are nothing distinct from
coexistence. That they are fixated as substances means that coexist­
ence is posited, and conversely, coexistence is nothing else but a
mutual fixating of substances by one another. If now this act of the
intelligence is reproduced ideally, that is, with consciousness, there
arises for me thereby space, as the mere form of coexistence or simul­
taneity. In general, it is first through the category of reciprocity that
space becomes the form of coexistence; under the category of substance
it emerges only as the form of extensity. Thus space itself is nothing
else but an act of the intelligence. We can define space as time sus­
pended, and time, by contrast, as space in flux. In space, regarded on
its own account, everything is merely concurrent, just as in time,
rendered objective, everything is sequential. Hence both, space and
time, can become objects only in succession as such, since in the latter
space is static, while time flows. Synthetically united, both space and
time, rendered objective, are manifested in reciprocity. Simultaneity
is, in fact, this union; adjacency in space is transformed, once the
determination of time is added, into a simultaneity. And so too, once
the determination of space is added, with successiveness in time.—
Time alone has a fundamental direction, though the point which gives
it direction lies in the infinite; but precisely because it has this basic
direction, only one direction is in fact distinguished therein. Space
originally has no direction, for in it all directions mutually cancel one
another; as the ideal substrate of all succession it is itself absolute
rest, absolute want of intensity, and to that extent nothing. —What
has hitherto made philosophers doubtful in regard to space is simply
that it possesses all the predicates of nothing, and yet cannot be
regarded as nothing. Precisely because space originally has no direc­
tion, every direction is contained in it, when once direction has en­
tered into it at all. But now in virtue merely of the causal relation
there is but one direction; I can only go from A to B, and not back
again from B to A, and it is not until we introduce the category of
reciprocity that all directions become equally possible.
112 System of Transcendental Idealism [477-78]

The foregoing enquiries contain the complete deduction of the

categories of relation, and, since there are initially no others but these,
the deduction of all categories—for the philosopher, to be sure, not for
the intelligence itself (for how the latter arrives at recognizing them as
such can only be explained in the epoch that is to follow). If we exam­
ine the table of categories given by Kant, we find that the first two in
each group are always opposed to each other, and that the third is the
union of them both. —The relation of substance and accident, for ex­
ample, served to determine but a single object; through that of cause
and effect a multiplicity of objects is determined; and through reciproc­
ity these too are united once more into one object. —In the first rela­
tion something is posited as a unity, which is abolished again in the
second, and recombined synthetically only in the third. Moreover, the
two first categories are merely ideal factors, and only the third that
evolves from them is the real. In the original consciousness, therefore,
or in the intelligence itself, insofar as it is implicated in the mecha­
nism of presentation, there can emerge neither the individual object as
substance and accident, nor even a pure causal relation (containing,
that is, succession in one direction); it is only by means of the category
of reciprocity that the object first becomes at once substance and acci­
dent, and cause and effect, for the self. Insofar as the object is a syn­
thesis of inner and outer sense, it necessarily stands in connection
with a moment past and a moment to follow. In the causal relation
this synthesis is dissolved, in that the substances persist for outer
sense, whereas for inner sense the accidents pass away. But the
causal relation itself cannot be recognized as such unless both the sub­
stances involved therein are again combined into one, and so this syn­
thesis proceeds, up to the idea of nature, wherein all substances are at
last combined into one, which is in reciprocity only with itself.
With this absolute synthesis, all involuntary succession
among presentations will be fixated. But since we as yet discern
no ground whereby the self should ever break wholly out of the
succession, and since we comprehend only relative syntheses, but
not the absolute one, we can see in advance that the presentation of
nature as the absolute totality, in which all oppositions are resolved
and all succession of causes and effects is united into an absolute
organism, is possible, not through the original mechanism of
presentation, which merely carries it on from one object to the next,
and within which all synthesis is purely relative, but rather by means
only of a free act of the intelligence, though this itself we do
[479-80] Part and Whole 113

not as yet comprehend.

In the course of the present enquiry we have deliberately left a
number of individual points undiscussed, so as to make for less interrup­
tion in the sequence of the deduction; but we now need to turn our at­
tention to them. Thus till now, for example, we have merely presup­
posed that intelligence itself contains the ground of a continual produc­
ing. For that the self as such embarked on producing could not have
had its ground in the first producing; there must have been a ground for
it in the intelligence as such. This ground must already be contained in
the first principles given earlier.
The self is neither originally productive, nor is it even so by
choice. It is a primary opposition, whereby the essence and nature of in­
telligence are constituted. But now the self originally is a pure and ab­
solute identity, to which it must constantly seek to return; yet the re­
turn to this identity is yoked to the original duality, as to a condition
never wholly overcome. Now as soon as the condition of producing,
namely duality, is given, the self must produce, and is compelled to do
sot as surely as it is an original identity. So if there is a continual pro­
ducing in the self, this is possible only in that the condition of all pro­
ducing, that original conflict of opposing activities in the self, is reestab­
lished ad infinitum. But now this conflict was to end in productive intu­
ition. But if it is really ended, the intelligence goes over utterly and
completely into the object; it is an object, but not an intelligence. The
intelligence is such only so long as this conflict continues; once it is
ended) it is no longer intelligence but matter, an object. As surely,
therefore, as all knowledge as such depends on that opposition between
intelligence and the object, so surely can the opposition be resolved in no
single object. How then indeed it arrives at a finite object is utterly in­
explicable unless every object is only apparently single, and can be pro­
duced only as a part of an infinite whole. But that the opposition is re­
solved only in an infinite object can be envisaged only if it is itself an in­
finite opposition, so that mediating terms of the synthesis are alone pos­
sible, and the two outermost factors of the opposition can never, in fact,
merge into one another.
But is it not also possible to show, in fact, that the opposition must
be infinite, since the conflict of the two activities it depends on is neces­
sarily an eternal one? The intelligence can never extend itself into the
infinite, for it is prevented from doing so by its striving to return back
into itself. It is, however, equally incapable of an absolute return into
114 System of Transcendental Idealism [480-81]

itself, for from this it is prevented by the tendency to infinitude. Here,

therefore, no mediation is possible, and every synthesis is but a rela­
tive one.
If it be desired, however, that the mechanism of producing
should be more exactly specified, we shall be able to think of it only in
the following manner. Faced, on the one hand, with the impossibility
of overcoming the absolute opposition, and with the necessity of doing
so on the other, a product will ensue, but in it the opposition cannot be
absolutely, but only partially, overcome; outside the opposition that is
resolved by this product, there will lie another that is still unresolved,
though this too can be overcome in a second product. Hence every
product that arises, in virtue of the fact that it gives only a partial
resolution of the infinite opposition, will become the condition of a sub­
sequent product, which, since it still only partially removes the opposi­
tion, becomes the condition of a third. All these products will be subor­
dinated one to another, and all of them ultimately to the first, since ev­
ery preceding product sustains the opposition which is the condition of
the one following. If we reflect that the force corresponding to the pro­
ductive activity is the true synthesizing force of nature, namely gravi­
tation, we shall be persuaded that this subordination is none other
than the subordination of celestial objects one to another, as it occurs
in the universe; a subordination such that the organization of these
bodies into systems, where one is conserved in its being by the next, is
nothing else but an organization of the intelligence itself, which
throughout all these products is continually in search of the absolute
point of equilibrium with itself, albeit that this point lies at infinity.
But now even this explanation of the mechanism whereby the
intelligence produces immediately involves us in a new difficulty. All
empirical consciousness begins with a present object, and already on
first becoming conscious the intelligence sees itself involved in a deter­
minate succession of presentations. But now the individual object is
possible only as part of a universe, and succession, in virtue of the
causal relation, itself already presupposes not only a multiplicity of
substances, but a reciprocity, or a dynamic simultaneity of all sub­
stances. The contradiction is therefore this, that the intelligence, inso­
far as it becomes conscious of itself, can intervene only at a specific
point in the order of succession, and hence, in becoming self-conscious,
must already presuppose a totality of substances, and a universal reci­
procity among substances, as conditions of a possible succession inde­
pendent of itself.
This contradiction is soluble only by a distinction
[481-82] The Universe 115

between the absolute and the finite intelligence, and serves at the
same time as a new proof that, without knowing it, we have already
displaced the self and its producing into the second or determinate
form of limitation. The more exact working-out of this relationship is
as follows.
That a universe, ie, a universal interplay of substances, exists
at all, is necessary, if the self as such is originally restricted. In virtue
of this original restrictedness, or, what comes to the same, in virtue
of the original conflict of self-consciousness, the universe arises for
the self, not gradually, but through one absolute synthesis. But this
original or primary restrictedness, which assuredly can be explained
from self-consciousness, does not explain for me the particular re­
strictedness which can no longer be explained from self-consciousness,
and to that extent is therefore not explicable at all. The particular,
or, as we shall also call it in future, the secondary restrictedness, is
precisely that by virtue of which the intelligence, at the very outset
of empirical consciousness, must appear to itself as in a present, as
held fast in a particular moment of the time series. Now what
emerges in this series of the second restrictedness is all posited al­
ready through the first, only with this difference, that by the latter
everything is posited at once, and the absolute synthesis arises for
the self, not by an assemblage out of parts, but as a whole; nor does
it arise in time, for all time is first posited through that synthesis,
whereas in empirical consciousness the whole in question can only be
engendered through a gradual synthesis of parts, and so only through
successive presentations. Now insofar as the intelligence is not in
time, but is eternal, it is nothing else but that absolute synthesis itself,
and to that extent has neither begun, nor can it cease, to produce; but
insofar as the intelligence is limited, it can also appear only as inter­
vening upon the successive series at a particular point. Not indeed,
as if the infinite intelligence were different from the finite, and as
though there existed an infinite intelligence outside, as it were, the fi­
nite one. For if I take away the particular restrictedness of the finite
intelligence, it is the absolute intelligence itself If I posit this
restrictedness, the absolute intelligence is by that very fact suspended
as absolute, and is now a merely finite one. Nor is the relationship to
be pictured as though the absolute synthesis and this incursion upon
a particular point in its evolution were two different acts; rather it is
that in one and the same original act there arises at once for the
intelligence both the universe, and the particular point of
116 System of Transcendental Idealism [482-83]

evolution to which its empirical consciousness is attached; or more

briefly, there arise through one and the same act, for the intelligence,
both the first and the second types of restriction, of which the latter
appears incomprehensible only because it is posited along with the
first, yet without being derivable therefrom in its determinacy. This
determinacy will thus appear as the contingent, absolutely and in ev­
ery respect, which the idealist can account for only by an absolute act
of the intelligence, whereas the realist explains it by what he calls des­
tiny or fate. It is, however, easy to see why, to the intelligence, the
point from which its consciousness begins must appear as determined
wholly without its concurrence; for just because it is at this point that
consciousness, and with it freedom, first arise, whatever lies beyond
this point must appear as totally independent of freedom.
We are now so far advanced in the history of the intelligence
that we have already confined it to a specific succession, into which its
consciousness can enter only at a particular point. The enquiry above­
instituted was concerned only with the question, how the intelligence
has been able to enter into this succession; since we have now discov­
ered that for it the second restrictedness must also arise along with
the first, we see in consequence that at the first onset of consciousness
we could find it no otherwise than as we have in fact found it, namely
as involved in a particular successive series. As a result of these en­
quiries, the proper task of transcendental philosophy has been much
illuminated. Everyone can regard himself as the object of these inves­
tigations. But to explain himself to himself, he must first have sus­
pended all individuality within himself, for it is precisely this which
is to be explained. If all the bounds of individuality are removed,
nothing remains behind save the absolute intelligence. If the bounds
of intelligence are also once more suspended, nothing remains but the
absolute self. The problem now is simply this: how the absolute intel­
ligence is to be accounted for by an act of the absolute self, and how,
in turn, by an act of the absolute intelligence, we may explain the
whole system of restrictedness which constitutes my individuality.
But now if all limits are taken away from the intelligence, what is
there still left as explanatory ground of a determinate action? I ob­
serve that even if I deprive the self of all individuality, including the
very limits by virtue of which it is an intelligence, I still cannot elimi­
nate the basic character of the self, namely that to itself it is at once
subject and object. Hence, in itself and by its own nature, before ever
it is restricted in particular ways, the self, by the very
[484-85] Succession and Time 117

fact that it is an object to itself, is originally restricted in its acting.

From this first or original restrictedness of its acting, there arises im­
mediately for the self the absolute synthesis of that infinite conflict
which is the ground of the restrictedness in question. Now if the intel­
ligence were to remain one with the absolute synthesis, there would
indeed be a universe, but there would be no intelligence. If an intelli­
gence is to exist, it must be able to emerge from this synthesis, in or­
der to engender it again with consciousness; but this is impossible,
however, unless there enters into this first restrictedness a second or
particular one, which can now no longer consist in the fact that the in­
telligence intuits a universe at large, but rather that it views the uni­
verse precisely from this particular point. So the difficulty which at
first sight seemed insoluble, namely that everything which exists is to
be explicable from an act of the self, and yet that the intelligence can
enter only at a particular point of a succession already determined be­
forehand, is resolved by the distinction between the absolute and the
determinate intelligence. The succession into which your conscious­
ness has entered is not determined by you, insofar as you are this indi­
vidual, for to that extent you are not the producer, but yourself belong
to the product. The succession in question is but the development of
an absolute synthesis, wherewith everything which happens or will
happen is already posited. That you picture just this particular suc­
cession is necessary, in that you are this particular intelligence. It is
necessary that this series appears to you as a predetermined series in­
dependent of yourself, which you cannot produce afresh. Not that it is
as if it had somehow elapsed of itself; for that what lies beyond your
consciousness should appear to you as independent of yourself, is pre­
cisely what constitutes your particular limitation. Take this away,
and there is no past; posit the latter, and it is just as necessary and
just as real—no more, that is, and no less—as the limitation. Beyond
the particular limitation lies the sphere of the absolute intelligence, for
which nothing has begun, nor does anything become, since everything,
for it, is simultaneous, or rather, it is itself everything. Thus the
boundary between the absolute intelligence, unaware of itself as such,
and the conscious intelligence, is simply time. For pure reason there
is no time, for it is everything, and everything at once; for reason inso­
far as it is empirical, everything comes into being, and what arises for
it is all merely successive.
Now before we pursue the history of the intelligence from
this point onwards, we must turn our attention
118 System of Transcendental Idealism [485-86]

again to some more exact determinations of this succession which are

given to us along with the deduction thereof; from these, as might be
expected in advance, there are numerous other conclusions that we
shall be able to draw.
a) The successive series is, as we know, nothing else but the
evolution of the original and absolute synthesis; so what emerges in
this series is already determined in advance thereby. With the first
limitation, all the determinations of the universe are posited; with the
second, by virtue of which I am this intelligence, all the determina­
tions under which this object enters my consciousness.
b) This absolute synthesis is an act which takes place outside
all time. With every empirical consciousness, time, as it were, begins
all over again; by the same token, every empirical consciousness pre­
supposes a time as having already elapsed, for it can begin only at a
determinate point in the evolution. Hence, for the empirical con­
sciousness, time can never have begun, and for the empirical intelli­
gence there is no beginning in time, save that through absolute free­
dom. To that extent one can say that every intelligence, not for itself,
to be sure, but objectively regarded, is an absolute beginning in time,
an absolute point that is pitched and posited, as it were, into a time­
less infinity, and from which all infinitude in time now first com­
mences.
It is a very common objection to idealism, that presentations of
outward things come to us quite involuntarily, that we can do nothing
whatever about this, and that, so far from producing them, we are
obliged, rather, to accept them as they are given to us. But that pre­
sentations must appear to us thus is a consequence to be drawn from
idealism itself. In order that it may intuit the object in general as an
object, the self must posit a past moment as a ground of the present,
and the past therefore arises ever and again through the action of
the intelligence only, and is necessary only insofar as this regression
of the self is necessary. But the reason why nothing in the present
moment can arise for me, save what actually does arise for me now,
is to be sought wholly and solely in the infinite consistency of the
mind. An object with these and no other determinations can only
arise for me now, because in the preceding moment I had produced
an object containing the ground of just these and no other deter­
minations. How the intelligence should be able to see itself, through
one production, involved at once in an entire system of things, can
be shown by analogy with innumerable other cases, in which reason,
by the sole power of its consistency, sees itself precipitated by a single
presupposition into the most complex of systems,
[486-87] Succession and Time 119

even where the presupposition is an entirely arbitrary one. There is,

for example, no more complicated system than that of gravitation,
which has required for its development the highest exertions of the
human mind; and yet it is an exceedingly simple law which has led the
astronomer into this labyrinth of motions, and again guided him out of
it. Our decimal system is without doubt a wholly arbitrary one, and
yet, by that one presupposition, the mathematician sees himself
plunged into consequences which (as, for example, with the remark­
able properties of decimal fractions) perhaps not one of them has yet
completely developed.
In its present producing the intelligence is therefore never
free, because it has been producing in the preceding moment.
Through the first producing the freedom of producing is, as it were,
forfeited forever. But in fact there is no first producing for the self; for
that the intelligence appears to itself as though it had absolutely be­
gun to form presentations, is in any case a feature merely of its par­
ticular restrictedness. Remove this, and it is eternal, and has never
begun to produce. If it be judged that the intelligence has begun to
produce, it is always itself that judges thus, according to a specific law;
whence it follows, indeed, that the intelligence has begun to have pre­
sentations for itself, but never that it has done so objectively or in it­
self.
It is a question that the idealist cannot escape, how he in fact ar­
rives at assuming a past, or what serves him as a guarantee for this?
The present is explicable to everyone in virtue of his own producing,
but how does he come to assume that he was something before he pro­
duced? Whether there has been a past-in-itself is a question no less
transcendent than the question whether there is a thing-in-itself. The
past exists only through the present, and so exists for everyone as such
only through his own original restrictedness; take away the latter, and
everything that has happened, like everything now occurring, is the
production of the one intelligence, which has not had a beginning, nor
will cease to exist.
If one seeks to determine, through time as such, the absolute
intelligence, which has absolute rather than empirical eternity, then
it is everything that is, and was, and will be. But the empirical
intelligence, in order to be something, that is> to be a determinate,
must cease to be everything and cease to be outside time. Originally
there exists for it only a present, and through its infinite striving
the present instant becomes an earnest of the future, but this infini­
tude is now no longer absolute, that is, timeless, but an empirical
infinitude engendered through succession of
120 System of Transcendental Idealism [487-88]

presentations. The intelligence strives, indeed, at every moment to ex­

hibit the absolute synthesis; as Leibniz says, the soul brings forth at
every moment the presentation of the universe. But since it is unable
to do so through an absolute act, it attempts to show it forth through a
successive progression in time.
c) Since time, in and for itself, or originally, betokens a mere
limit, it can be outwardly intuited, that is, united with space, only as
the fluxion of a point, i.e., as a line. But a line is the original intuition
of motion; all motion is intuited as motion only insofar as it is intuited
as a line. Hence the original succession of presentations, outwardly
intuited, is motion. But now since it is the intelligence which seeks
merely its own identity throughout the whole successive sequence, and
since this identity would be abolished at every moment through the
transition from one presentation to the next, if the intelligence did not
continually seek to restore it, the transition from presentation to pre­
sentation must occur by a magnitude that is constant, i.e., of which no
part is absolutely the smallest.
Now it is time in which this transition occurs, and hence time
will be such a magnitude. And since all original succession appears
outwardly in the intelligence as motion, the law of constancy will thus
be a basic law of all motion.
The same property will be shown in the same manner to hold of
space.
Since the succession and all changes in time are nothing else but
evolutions of the absolute synthesis, whereby everything is determined
in advance, the ultimate ground of all motion must be sought in the
factors of that synthesis itself; but now these factors are none other
than those of the original opposition, and hence the ground of all mo­
tion will likewise require to be looked for in the factors of that opposi­
tion. This original opposition can be but momentarily abolished only
in an infinite synthesis and in the finite object. The opposition arises
anew at every moment, and is at every moment again annulled. This
reengendering and reabolition of the opposition at every moment must
be the ultimate ground of all motion. This principle, which is basic to
a dynamic physics, has its place, like all basic principles of the subor­
dinate sciences, in transcendental philosophy.

rv
In the succession above described, the intelligence has to do,
not with the succession, for the latter is wholly involuntary, but
rather with itself. It seeks
[489-90] Deduction of the Organic 121

itself, but in so doing actually flees from itself. Once it has been dis­
placed into this succession, it can no longer intuit itself otherwise than
as active in the succession. But now we have already deduced a self­
intuition of the intelligence within the succession, by way, that is, of
reciprocity. But hitherto we have been able to make reciprocity intelli­
gible only as a relative, not as an absolute synthesis or intuition of the
whole succession of presentations. It is now utterly beyond concep­
tion, how the whole succession can become an object unless a limiting
of the succession is to take place.
Here, therefore, we see ourselves driven into a third phase of
limitation, which thrusts the intelligence into a sphere still narrower
than any of the preceding, but one we must put up with, if only in or­
der to postulate. The first restriction of the self was that it became an
intelligence at all; the second, that it had to start out from a present
moment, or could intervene only at a particular point in the succes­
sion. Though from that point at least, the series could proceed to in­
finity. But now if this infinitude is not in turn restricted, there is ab­
solutely no seeing how the intelligence may step out from its own pro­
ducing and intuit itself as productive. Hitherto, the intelligence and
the succession itself have been one; now it must oppose the succession
to itself, in order to intuit itself therein. The succession, however,
runs only to change among the accidents, whereas the intuiting of the
succession requires that the substantial element therein be intuited as
persisting. But the substantial element in this infinite succession is
nothing else save the absolute synthesis itself, which did not come to
be, but is eternal. The intelligence, though, has no intuition of the ab­
solute synthesis, that is, of the universe, unless the latter become fi­
nite to it. The intelligence, therefore, is also unable to intuit the suc­
cession unless the universe comes to be limited for it in intuition.
But now the intelligence can no more cease to produce than it
can cease to be an intelligence. Hence this succession of presentations
will not be capable of limitation for it, unless it be again an infinite
succession within this limitation. To make this clear at once, there
is in the external world a constant sequence of changes, which do
not, however, lose themselves in the infinite, but are restricted to a
specific circle, into which they constantly revert. This sequence of
changes is thus at once both finite and infinite; finite, because it
never oversteps a certain limit; infinite, because it constantly
returns back into itself. The circular line is the original synthesis
of finitude and infinity, into which even the straight line must
122 System of Transcendental Idealism [490-91]

be resolved. The succession only appears to proceed In a straight line,

and constantly flows back into itself.
But the intelligence must intuit the succession as returning into
itself; by means of this intuition a new product will undoubtedly arise
for it, and thus again it will never arrive at intuiting the succession,
for instead of the latter there arises for it something entirely different.
The question is, what the nature of this product will be.
One may say that organic nature furnishes the most obvious
proof of transcendental idealism, for every plant is a symbol of the in­
telligence. For the plant, indeed, the material that it appropriates or
incorporates into itself under a particular form is already preformed in
the natural environment; but whence then is material to come to the
intelligence, since it is absolute and alone? Since, therefore, it pro­
duces the material no less than the form from out of itself, it is the ab­
solutely organic. In the original succession of presentations it appears
to us as an activity which is unceasingly at once both cause and effect
of itself; cause, insofar as it produces; effect, insofar as it is the pro­
duced. Empiricism, which has everything entering the intelligence
from without, in fact explains the nature of intelligence in purely me­
chanical fashion. Yet if the intelligence is organic at all, as indeed it
is, it has also framed to itself outwardly from within everything that is
external for it, and that which constitutes the universe for it is merely
the grosser and remoter organ of self-consciousness, just as the indi­
vidual organism is the finer and more immediate organ thereof
A deduction of organic nature has primarily four questions to
answer.
1. Why is an organic nature necessary at all?
2. Why is a graduated sequence in organic nature necessary?
3. Why is there a difference between living and nonliving orga­
nization?
4. What is the basic character of all organization?
1. The necessity of organic nature is deducible in the following man­
ner.
The intelligence must intuit itself in its productive transition
from cause to effect, or in the succession of its presentations, insofar
as this returns into itself. But this it cannot do, without making
the succession permanent, or representing it as static. A self­
reverting succession, statically represented, is in fact organization.
The concept of organization does not exclude all notion of succession.
Organization is merely succession confined within limits and pre­
sented as fixed. The expression of organic configuration is rest, al­
though this constant reproducedness of the static
[491-92] Deduction of the Organic 123

figure is possible only through a continuous inward flux. As surely,

therefore, as the intelligence, in the original succession of presenta­
tions, is at once both cause and effect of itself, and as surely as this
succession is a limited one, the succession must become objectified to it
as organization, which is the first solution of our problem, as to how
the intelligence intuits itself as productive.
2. But now within its limits the succession is again infinite. The in­
telligence is thus an endless endeavor towards self-organization. Thus
everything in the entire system of the intelligence will also strive to­
wards organization, and the general drive towards this will have to ex­
tend over its external world. Hence a graduated sequence of organiza­
tion will also be necessary. For insofar as it is empirical, the intelli­
gence has a continual endeavor at least to bring forth in succession the
universe which it cannot depict by means of an absolute synthesis.
The serial order in its original presentations is therefore nothing else
but a successive depiction or development of the absolute synthesis,
save only that by virtue of the third restriction, even this development
can obtain only up to a certain limit. This evolution, limited and intu­
ited as limited, is organization.
Organization in general is therefore nothing else but a dimin­
ished and as it were condensed picture of the universe. But now the
succession is itself gradual, that is, it cannot wholly develop itself in
any single moment. But the further the succession advances, the fur­
ther the universe also develops. In proportion, therefore, as the suc­
cession proceeds, organization too will achieve a greater extension,
and depict within itself a larger portion of the universe. This will thus
provide a graduated sequence running parallel to the development of
the universe. The law of this sequence is that organization constantly
enlarges its scope as the intelligence constantly extends it. If this ex­
tension, or the evolution of the universe, were to go on to infinity, or­
ganization too would go on ad infinitum^ the limit of the one is also the
limit of the other.
The following may serve by way of elucidation. The deeper
we descend into organic nature, the narrower becomes the world
which organization depicts within itself, and the smaller the portion
of the universe that condenses into organization. The vegetable
kingdom is assuredly the narrowest, since a multitude of natural
changes simply do not fall within its sphere. Broader already,
though still very restricted, is the sphere of changes exhibited among
the lowest orders of the animal kingdom, in that, for example, the
noblest senses, those of sight and hearing, still lie dormant,
124 System of Transcendental Idealism [492-94]

and even touch, that is, receptivity for the immediately present, is
scarcely operative. —What we call sensation in animals does not refer,
say, to a power of acquiring presentations through impressions from
without, but merely to their relationship with the universe, which may
be broader or more confined. But the view we have to take of animals
as such may be gathered from this, that through them there is desig­
nated in nature that stage of consciousness at which our deduction
presently stands. —If we move upwards in the scale of organization,
we find that the senses gradually develop in that order in which, by
means of them, the world of the organizations is enlarged.1 The sense
of hearing, for example, appears far earlier, since by means of it the
world of the organism is extended only to a very short distance. The
godlike sense of vision is much later to emerge, since by means of it
the world is expanded to an extent which even the imagination is un­
able to encompass. Leibniz betrays so great a reverence for light that
for this reason alone he attributes higher presentations to animals,
that they are receptive to light-impressions. Although even where this
sense, with its associated structures, appears, it remains always un­
certain how far the sense itself extends, and whether even for the
highest organizations the light is not simply light.
3. Organization as such is succession hampered and, as it were,
coagulated in its course, But now the intelligence was to intuit, not
merely the succession of its presentations as such, but itself, and
itself as active in the succession. If it is to become an object to itself
as active in the succession (externally, of course, for the intelligence
is now merely outwardly intuitant), it must intuit the succession as
sustained by an inner principle of activity. But now the internal suc­
cession, outwardly intuited, is motion. Hence the intelligence will be
able to intuit itself only in an object that has an internal principle of
motion within itself. But an object such as this is said to be alive.
Hence the intelligence must intuit itself, not merely qua organization
as such, but as a living organization. But now it appears from this
very deduction of life, that the latter must be common to all organic
nature, and hence that there can be no distinction between living and
nonliving organizations in nature itself Since the intelligence is to
intuit itself as active in the successions throughout the whole of or­
ganic nature, every organization must also possess life in the wider
sense of the word, that is, must have an inner principle of

Un regard to this law, I must refer to Herr Kielmeyer's discourse on

the relationships of the organic powers, where it is set forth and demon­
strated.
[494-95] Deduction of the Organic 125

motion within itself. The life in question may well be more or less re­
stricted; the question, therefore: whence this distinction? reduces itself
to the previous one: whence the graduated sequence in organic na­
ture?
But this scale of organization merely refers to different stages in
the evolution of the universe. Precisely as the intelligence, by means
of the succession, constantly tries to depict the absolute synthesis, so
likewise will organic nature constantly appear as struggling towards
universal organism and at war against an inorganic nature. The
bounds of the succession in the presentations of the intelligence will
also be the bounds of organization. But now there must be an absolute
boundary to the intuiting of the intelligence; this boundary, for us, is
light. For although it extends our sphere of intuition almost into the
immeasurable, the light-boundary cannot be the boundary of the uni­
verse, and it is no mere hypothesis that beyond the world of light there
shines with a radiance unknown to us a world which no longer falls
within the sphere of our intuition. —So now if the intelligence intuits
the evolution of the universe, so far as this falls within its intuition, in
terms of an organization) it will intuit this latter as identical with its
own self. For it is the intelligence itself, which through all the laby­
rinths and convolutions of organic nature seeks to reflect back itself as
productive. But in none of the subordinate organizations is the world
of the intelligence depicted to the full. Only on attaining to the most
perfect organization, into which its entire world contracts, will it rec­
ognize this organization as identical with itself. Hence the intelligence
will appear to itself, not merely qua organic as such, but as standing
at the summit of organization. It can regard the other organizations
only as intermediate stages, throughout which the most perfect gradu­
ally extricates itself from the fetters of matter, or by way of which it
becomes completely an object to itself. Hence also it will not concede
to the other organizations a like dignity with its own.
The limit of its world, or what comes to the same, the limit of the
succession of its presentations, is also, for the intelligence, the limit of
organization. Hence, what we have called the third restrictedness
consists in the fact that the intelligence must appear to itself as an or­
ganic individual. Through the necessity of intuiting itself as an or­
ganic individual its world, for it, becomes wholly limited, and con­
versely, through the fact that the succession of its presentations is a
limited one, it itself becomes an organic individual.
4. The basic character of organization is that,
126 System of Transcendental Idealism [495-96]

excluded, as it were, from mechanism, it subsists not merely as cause

or effect, but through itself, since it is at once both cause and effect of
itself. We began by defining the object as substance and accidentt but
it could not be intuited as such without also being cause and effect,
and conversely, it could not be intuited as cause and effect unless sub­
stances were fixated. But where, then, does substance begin, and
where does it leave off? A simultaneous existence of all substances
transforms all of them into one, comprehended only in eternal reci­
procity with itself; this is the absolute organization. Organization is
thus the higher power of the category of reciprocity, which, viewed
universally, leads to the concept of nature or of universal organization,
in relation to which all individual organizations are again themselves
accidents. The basic character of organization is therefore that it be in
reciprocity with itself, at once both producer and product, and this
concept is the principle of the whole theory of organic nature, whence
all further determinations of organization can be derived a priori.
Since we now stand at the summit of all production, namely at
the organic, we are accorded a retrospect over the whole series. We
can now distinguish in nature three orders of intuition: The simple,
that of stuff, which is posited therein through sensation; the second,
that of matter, which is posited through productive intuition; and
lastly the third, which is characterized by organization.
Now since organization is merely productive intuition of the sec­
ond order, the categories for the construction of matter as such, or of
general physics, will also be categories of organic construction and of
the theory of organic nature, save only that they must likewise be
thought of therein as raised to a higher power. Moreover, just as the
three dimensions of matter are determined by these three categories of
general physics, so also are the three dimensions of the organic prod­
uct determined by the three categories of the organic. And if galva­
nism, as stated, is the general expression of process going over into
product, and if magnetism, electricity and chemical force, raised to a
higher power with the product, yield the three categories of organic
physics, we shall have to envisage galvanism as the bridge whereby
these universal forces of nature pass over into sensibility, irritability
and formative urge.
The basic character of life, in particular, will consist in this,
that it is a sequence, reverting into itself, fixated, and sustained by
an inner principle; and just as intellectual life, whose image it is, or
the identity of consciousness, is sustained only by the
[496-98] Deduction of the Organic 127

continuity of presentations, so life is sustained only by the continuity

of internal motions; and just as the intelligence, in the succession of its
presentations, constantly struggles to achieve consciousness, so life
must be thought of as engaged in a constant struggle against the
course of nature, or in an endeavor to uphold its identity against the
latter.
Having answered the main questions that can be asked of a de­
duction of organic nature, we turn our attention further to one par­
ticular result of this deduction, namely that in the scale of organiza­
tions there must necessarily emerge one which the intelligence is
obliged to intuit as identical with itself. Now if the intelligence is
nothing else but an evolution of original presentations, and if this suc­
cession is to be exhibited in the organism, then that organization
which the intelligence must recognize as identical with itself will at
every moment be the perfect expression of its inner nature. Now
where the changes in the organism that correspond to presentations
are lacking, those presentations likewise cannot become an object to
the intelligence. If we wish to speak transcendently, the man born
blind, for example, certainly has a presentation of light for an observer
outside him, since all that is required for this is the power of internal
intuition, it being merely that this presentation does not become an
object for him; although, from a transcendental viewpoint, this presen­
tation really does not exist in him, since nothing exists in the self
which it does not itself intuit therein. The organism is the condition
under which alone the intelligence can distinguish itself, as substance
or subject of the succession, from the succession itself, or under which
alone this succession can be something independent of the intelli­
gence. That it now appears to us as though there were a transition
from the organism into the intelligence, whereby an affection of the
former brings about a presentation in the latter, is a mere illusion, be­
cause we can indeed know nothing of the presentation before it be­
comes an object to us through the organism: the affection of the latter
therefore precedes the presentation in consciousness, and must thus
appear} not as conditioned thereby, but rather as the condition
thereof. Not the presentation itself, though certainly the con­
sciousness thereof, is conditioned by the affection of the organism, and
if empiricism restricts its claim to the latter point, no objection can be
made to it.
If then, one may speak of a transition at all, where in fact
there are not two opposing objects, but properly only one, we may
rather refer to a transition from the intelligence into the organism
than to a movement in the opposite direction. For since the
organism itself is but a mode of intuition on the part of the
128 System of Transcendental Idealism [498-99]

intelligence, everything in the latter must necessarily become an object

to it immediately in the organism. It is merely this necessity of intuit­
ing everything within us, and hence also the presentation as such, and
not just the object thereof, as located outside us, which underlies the
whole so-called dependence of the mental on the material. As soon, for
example, as the organism is no longer a perfect reflex of our universe, it
also serves no longer as an organ of self-intuition, that is, it is ailing;
we feel ourselves to be ill only because of this absolute identity of the or­
ganism with ourselves. However, the organism is itself ill only accord­
ing to natural laws, that is, according to laws of the intelligence itself.
For the intelligence in its producing is not free, but restricted and com­
pelled by laws. So when, by natural laws, my organism is obliged to be
ill, I am also necessitated to intuit it as such. The feeling of sickness
arises through nothing else but a loss of identity between the intelli­
gence and its organism; whereas the feeling of health, if one can indeed
speak of a wholly empty sensation as a feeling, is the feeling of a total
absorption of the intelligence in the organism, or, as an excellent writer
expresses it, of the transparency of the organism for the spirit.
To this dependence, not of the mental itself, but of the conscious­
ness of the mental upon the physical, there belongs also the waxing and
waning of the intellectual powers along with the organic, and even the
necessity of appearing to ourselves as having been born. I, as this par­
ticular individual, did not exist at all before I intuited myself as this,
nor shall I be this same person, once the intuition ceases. Since, by the
laws of nature, there is necessarily a time at which the organism, as a
fabric gradually destroying itself through its own energiesl must cease
to reflect the external world, the absolute loss of identity between or­
ganism and intelligence, which in sickness is only partial, namely
death, is thus a natural event itself falling within the original series of
the intelligence^ presentations.
What holds of the intelligence's blind activity, namely that the or­
ganism is the constant expression thereof, will also have to hold of free
activity, if there is any such in the intelligence—a thing we have so far
not derived. Hence, to every voluntary succession of presentation in
the intelligence free movement in its organism will have to correspond,
wherein is included not merely so-called voluntary movement in the
narrow sense, but also demeanor, speech, and in short everything that
is the expression of an inner state. But how a freely engendered pre­
sentation of the intelligence passes over into an outward motion—a
[499-500] Mind and Body 129

question belonging to practical philosophy and touched on here only

because it is in fact answerable solely according to the principles just
laid down—requires a solution entirely different from the converse
question, how a presentation in the intelligence can be conditioned by
a change in the organism. For insofar as the intelligence produces un­
consciously, its organism is immediately identical with it, in such a
way that what it intuits externally is reflected by the organism with­
out further mediation. For example, it is necessary according to natu­
ral law that under such-and-such a configuration, eg, of the general
causes of stimulation, the organism should appear to be ill; these con­
ditions being given, the intelligence is no longer free to envision the
conditioned or not; the organism becomes ill, because the intelligence
is obliged to perceive it thus. But insofar as it is freely active, the in­
telligence becomes distinct from its organism, so that a presenting on
the part of the former is not immediately followed by something exis­
tent in the latter. A causal relation between a free activity of the in­
telligence and a motion in its organism is no more conceivable than
the converse relationship, since the two are not opposed really at all,
but only ideally so. Hence there is nothing for it but to posit a har­
mony between the intelligence, so far as it is freely active, and so far
as it intuits unconsciously—and this harmony is necessarily a prees-
tablished one. To be sure, even transcendental idealism has no need
at all of a predetermined harmony in order to explain how changes in
the organism conform to involuntary presentations; yet it does need
one to explain the coincidence of organic changes with voluntary pre­
sentations. Nor does it require a preestablished harmony like that of
Leibniz, as commonly expounded, holding immediately between the in­
telligence and the organism; but rather a harmony between the free
and the unconscious producing activities, since only the latter is
needed to explain a passage from the intelligence into the external
world.
Yet how such a harmony itself may be possible, we can neither
discern, nor do we even need to discern it, so long as we occupy the
ground we are on at present.

V
From the relationship, now wholly deduced, of the intelligence to the
organism, it is evident that in the present stage of consciousness the
intelligence is absorbed in its organism, which it intuits as wholly
identical with itself, and so once more fails to attain to intuition of it­
self.
But now at the same time, owing to the fact that
130 System of Transcendental Idealism [500-1]

its whole world is drawn together, for the intelligence, in the organ­
ism, the circle of production is closed for it. So the last act whereby
complete consciousness is posited in the intelligence (and to find this
was our only task; everything else which occurred in solving this prob­
lem arose for us only incidentally, as it were, and with no more inten­
tion than for the intelligence itself), must fall altogether outside the
sphere of producing; that is, the intelligence itself must break away
entirely from producing if consciousness is to come about, which can
undoubtedly occur once more only through a series of acts. Now be­
fore we are able to derive these acts themselves, it is necessary to have
at least a general acquaintance with the sphere covering those acts
which are opposed to producing. For that such acts must be opposed
to producing is already to be inferred from the fact that they are to set
limits thereto.
We ask, therefore, whether perchance in the foregoing se­
quence, any act opposed to producing has emerged for us? —In deduc­
ing the series of productions whereby the self gradually arrived at in­
tuiting itself as productive, we certainly found no activity whereby the
intelligence divorced itself utterly from producing, though the positing
of every derived product in the intelligence's own consciousness could
indeed be explained only through a constant reflecting of the intelli­
gence upon the produced; save only that through every act of reflec­
tion the condition of a new producing arose for us. In order to explain
the progressive sequence in producing, we therefore had to posit an
activity in our object, whereby it strives on beyond every individual
act of producing, though the very effect of its so doing is to involve it
repeatedly in new productions. We can therefore know in advance
that the series of acts we have now postulated belongs in the sphere of
reflection as such.
But producing is now at an end for the intelligence, so that it
cannot return into that sphere by any new act of reflection. The re­
flecting that we shall now deduce must therefore be entirely different
from that which constantly ran parallel to the act of producing; and if,
indeed, as is perfectly possible, it should be necessarily accompanied
by a producing, this producing, in opposition to the necessary sort will
be a free one. And conversely, if the reflection that accompanied pro­
duction without consciousness was a necessary one, so much the more
will that which we now seek be a free one. By means of it the intelli­
gence will set limits, not simply to its own individual producing, but to
producing absolutely and as such.
The contrast between producing and reflecting will become
most apparent in that what we have hitherto
[501-3] Self and Thing-in-itself 131

viewed from the standpoint of intuition will appear quite differently to

us from the standpoint of reflection.
Thus we now have at least a general and prelixninaiy knowledge
of the sphere which embraces as such that series of acts whereby the
intelligence breaks loose entirely from producing, namely the sphere of
free reflection. And if this free reflection is to stand connected with
what has been derived earlier, its ground must lie immediately in the
third restrictedness, which will drive us into the epoch of reflection,
precisely as the second restrictedness drove us into that of producing.
Though till now we find ourselves still wholly unable to exhibit this
connection in fact, and can only maintain that it will exist.

General Note upon the Second Epoch

An understanding of the whole interconnection of the series of acts de­

rived in the foregoing epoch depends upon a proper grasp of the differ­
ence between what we have called the first or original, and the second
or specific, restrictedness.
The original limit was in fact posited already in the self in the
first act of self-consciousness, through the ideal activity, or, as it later
appeared to the self, through the thing-in-itself. But now it was sim­
ply the objective or real self that was limited through the thing-in-it-
self. However, the sel£ so soon as it is producing, that is, throughout
the whole second period, is no longer merely real, but ideal and real at
once. So the now productive self cannot feel itself limited as such by
the original boundary, and not least because that boundary has now
gone over into the object; the latter, indeed, is the common representa­
tion of self and thing-in-itself, wherein that original restrictedness pos­
ited through the thing-in-itself must therefore also be sought, just as it
has also actually been exhibited therein.
So if now the self still feels itself to be limited, it can do so only
qua producing, and this again can come about only by means of a sec­
ond boundary, which must serve to limit the thing no less than the
self.
But now this boundary was to set limits to the passivity in the
self, though this it does only for the real and objective self, while for
that very reason it bounds the activity of the ideal or subjective self.
That the thing-in-itself is limited is to say that the ideal self is
limited. It is therefore evident that, through producing, the
boundary has actually gone over into the ideal self. The same bound­
ary which limits the ideal self in its activity, limits the real self
132 System of Transcendental Idealism [503-4]

in its passivity. Through the opposition between ideal and real activ­
ity as such the first restrictedness is posited; while through the mea­
sure or limit of this opposition, which, no sooner is it recognized as
opposition, as happens, in fact, in productive intuition, than it must
necessarily be a determinate opposition, the second restrictedness is
posited.
Thus without knowing it, the self, immediately on becoming pro­
ductive, was subjected to the second form of restriction, that is, even
its ideal activity became limited. For the intrinsically illimitable self
this second restrictedness must necessarily be absolutely contingent.
That it is absolutely contingent means that it has its ground in an ab­
solutely free action of the self itself. The objective self is bounded in
this particular fashion, because the ideal self has acted in just this par­
ticular way. But that it should have acted thus itself presupposes al­
ready a determinacy in the latter. Hence this second limit must ap­
pear to the self as at once dependent on, and independent of, its activ­
ity. This contradiction is soluble only on the assumption that this sec­
ond restrictedness is merely a present one, and thus must have its
ground in a past act of the self. Insofar as we reflect on the fact that
the boundary is a present one, it is independent of the self; insofar as
we reflect on the fact that it exists at all, it is posited through an act of
the self itself. This restrictedness of the ideal activity can thus appear
to the self only as a restrictedness of the present; thus immediately
through the fact that the self comes to have sensitivity with conscious­
ness, time arises for it as an absolute limit, whereby it becomes an ob­
ject to itself as having sensation with consciousness, that is, as inner
sense. But now in the preceding act (that of producing) the self was
not merely inner sense, but—though this is admittedly visible only to
the philosopher―both inner and outer sense at once, for it has at once
both ideal and real activity. Hence it cannot become an object to itself
as inner sense without outer sense simultaneously becoming an object
to it, and if the former is intuited as an absolute boundary, the latter
can be intuited only as activity infinite in all directions.
As an immediate result, therefore, of the bounding of the ideal
activity in production, inner sense becomes an object to the self
through time in its independence from space, and outer sense an ob­
ject through space in its independence from time; both, therefore, en­
ter consciousness, not as intuitions, of which the self cannot become
conscious, but merely as items intuited.
But now time and space themselves must again become
objects for the self, which constitutes the second
[504] Categories and Production 133

intuition of this epoch, whereby a new determination is posited In the

self, namely the succession ofpresentations', it is in virtue of this that
there is no first object at all for the self, since it can originally become
conscious only of a second object through opposition to the first as that
which restricts it; and by this means, therefore, the second
restrictedness is posited completely in consciousness.
But now the causal relation itself must again become an object
for the selC which comes about through reciprocity, the third intuition
in this epoch.
Hence the three intuitions of this epoch are none other than the
basic categories of all knowledge, namely those of relation.
Reciprocity is itself not possible without the succession itself
again becoming a limited one for the self; and this takes place through
organization^ which, insofar as it betokens the highest point of produc­
tion, and is the condition of a third form of restriction, compels the
transition to a new series of acts.
134 System of Transcendental Idealism

THIRD EPOCH: From Reflection to the Absolute Act of Will

In the series of synthetic acts that have so far been derived, we have
encountered none whereby the self might have arrived directly at a
consciousness of its own activity. But now since the circle of synthetic
acts is closed and totally exhausted by the foregoing deductions, the
act or series of acts, whereby consciousness of the derived is posited in
the self itself, cannot be synthetic, but only analytic in nature. The
standpoint of reflection is therefore identical with that of analysist and
from it, accordingly, no act can be found in the self which has not al­
ready been posited synthetically therein. But how the self itself at­
tains to the standpoint of reflection is something that has neither been
explained until now, nor is perhaps explicable at all in theoretical phi­
losophy. In discovering that act whereby reflection is posited in the
sel£ the synthetic thread will again be united, and from that point on
will undoubtedly extend into the infinite.
Since the intelligence, so long as it is intuitant, is one with the
intuited and in no way distinct therefrom, it will be unable to arrive at
any intuition of itself through the products until it has separated itself
from the products; and since in itself it is nothing else but the determi­
nate mode of action whereby the object arises, it will be able to arrive
at itself only by separating its acting as such from that which arises
for it in this acting, or, what comes to the same, from the items pvo-
duced.
Till now we have been quite unable to tell whether such a sepa­
ration in the intelligence is possible at all, or whether it occurs; assum­
ing that it does, the question is, what will the intelligence contain?
This separating of the act from the product is referred to in ordi­
nary usage as abstraction, which therefore appears as the first condi­
tion of reflection. So long as the intelligence is nothing distinct from
its acting, no consciousness thereof is possible. Through abstraction it­
self it becomes something different from its producing, which latter,
for that very reason, however, can now no longer appear as an acting,
but only as a product.
But now the intelligence> i.e., this acting, and the object are
originally one. The object is this particular one, because the intelli­
gence has produced precisely thus and not otherwise. The object on
the one hand, and the acting of the intelligence on the
[506-7] Objects External to the Self 135

other, since they both exhaust each other and are alike in all respects,
will thus again coincide in one and the same consciousness. —That
which arises for us, when we separate the acting as such from the out­
come, is called the concept. The question as to how our concepts con­
form to objects has therefore no meaning from a transcendental view­
point, inasmuch as this question presupposes an original difference be­
tween the two. In the absence of consciousness, the object and its con­
cept, and conversely, concept and object, are one and the same, and
the separation of the two first occurs with the emergence of conscious­
ness. A philosophy which starts from consciousness will therefore
never be able to explain this conformity, nor is it explicable at all with­
out an original identity, whose principle necessarily lies beyond con­
sciousness.
In producing as such, where the object still has no existence
whatever as an object, the act itself is identical with what arises
therein. This state of the self can be elucidated by reference to similar
cases, where no external object as such makes entry into con­
sciousness, although the self does not cease to produce or intuit. In
sleep, for example, the original producing is not suspended; it is a state
of free reflection, simultaneously interrupted by the consciousness of
individuality. Object and intuition are completely lost in each other,
and for that very reason neither one nor the other exists in the intelli­
gence for itself. The intelligence, were it not everything solely for it­
self, would in this state be intuitant for an intelligence outside itself,
but it is not so for itself, and therefore is not so at all. Such is the state
of our object, as so far derived.
So long as the act of producing does not become an object to us,
uncontaminated by and separated from the product, everything exists
only within us, and without this separation we should indeed believe
that we intuited everything purely in ourselves. For that we must
intuit objects in space still does not explain the fact that we intuit
them outside ourselves, since we could also intuit space purely within
us, and originally we do indeed intuit it purely in ourselves. The
intelligence is present where it intuits; how, then, does it now come to
intuit objects outside itself? There is no seeing why the whole of the
external world does not appear to us in the manner of our organism,
in which we believe ourselves to be immediately present wherever we
have sensation. Just as, even after external things have detached
themselves from us, we do not as a rule intuit our organism as in any
way outside us, unless it is distinguished from us by a special abstrac­
tion, so also we could not view objects as distinct from us
136 System of Transcendental Idealism [507-8]

without an original abstraction. That they therefore loose themselves,

as it were, from the mind, and take their place in space outside us, is
possible as such only through the separation of the concept from the
product, i.e., of the subjective from the objective.
But now if concept and object originally coincide so far that nei­
ther of them contains more or less than the other, a separation of the
two is utterly inconceivable without a special act whereby they become
opposed in consciousness. Such an act is that which is most expres­
sively denoted by the word judgment (Urteil),1 in that by this we first
have a separation of what was hitherto inseparably united, the con­
cept and the intuition. For judgment is not a comparison of concept
with concept, say, but of concepts with intuitions. The predicate as
such is not distinguished from the subject, for there is in fact an iden­
tity of the two posited in judgment itself. Hence a separation of sub­
ject and predicate is possible as such only in that the former repre­
sents the intuition and the latter the concept. In judgment, therefore,
concept and object have first to be opposed, and then again related to
each other, and set equal one to another. But now this relating is pos­
sible solely through intuition. Only this intuition cannot be the same
as productive intuition, for otherwise we should not have advanced a
step further; it must, on the contrary, be a mode of intuition hitherto
quite unknown to us, which first requires to be deduced.
Since object and concept are thereby to be related to one an­
other, this mode of intuition must be such as to border upon the con­
cept on one side, and upon the object on the other. Now since the con­
cept is the mode of action whereby the object of intuition arises as
such, and thus the rule according to which the object as such is con­
structed, whereas the object is not the rule, but the expression of the
rule itself, an act must be found in which the rule itself is intuited as
an object, or in which, conversely, the object is intuited as a rule of
construction as such.
An intuition of this type is schematism, of which everyone can
learn only from his own inner experience, and which, for purposes of
recognition and the guidance of experience, can only be described and
separated from everything else that resembles it.
The schema must be differentiated no less from the image
than from the symbol, with which it is very commonly confounded.
The image is always so determined in every respect, that a
complete identity of image and

Suggesting "primal division" (Tr.).

[508-10] Schematism 137

object wants only the specific region of space wherein the latter is lo­
cated. The schema, by contrast, is not a presentation determinate in
all its aspects, but merely an intuition of the rule whereby a specific
object can be brought forth. It is an intuition, and so not a concept, for
it is that which links the concept with the object. But nor is it an intu­
ition of the object itself, being merely an intuition of the rule whereby
such an object can be brought forth.
The nature of the schema can be explained most clearly from the
example of the craftsman, who has to fashion an object of specific form
in accordance with a concept. What can be conveyed to him, in effect,
is the concept of the object, but it is utterly inconceivable that, without
any external pattern, the form associated with the concept should
gradually emerge under his hands, if he did not have an inner,
though sensorily intuited rule, which guides him in the making. This
rule is the schema, which contains nothing in any way individual, and
is equally little to be identified with a general concept, whereby an art­
ist could create nothing. Following this schema, he will first bring
forth merely a raw sketch of the whole, proceeding from thence to the
fashioning of the individual parts, until gradually, in his inner intu­
ition, the schema approximates to the image, which again accompanies
him, until simultaneously with the fully emergent determination of
the image, the work of art itself is also brought to completion.
In the commonest exercise of the understanding, the schema fig­
ures as the general link whereby we recognize any object as of a cer­
tain sort. If, as soon as I see a triangle, of whatever kind you please, I
judge in the same moment that this figure is a triangle, that presup­
poses the intuition of a triangle as such, which is neither obtuse nor
acute nor right-angled, and would be no more possible by means of a
mere concept of a triangle than by means of a mere image thereof; for
since the latter is necessarily a determinate thing, the congruence of
the actual with the merely imagined triangle, if it were to occur, would
be purely fortuitous, which is insufficient for the formation of a judg­
ment.
We may infer from this very necessity of a schematism, that the
whole mechanism of language will rest upon it. Suppose, for example,
that a man wholly unacquainted with technical concepts knows only
certain specimens or particular strains of a given animal; neverthe­
less, as soon as he sees an individual of a strain as yet unknown to
him within this species, he will still judge that it belongs to that type;
he cannot do this by means of a general concept, for whence,
138 System of Transcendental Idealism [510-11]

indeed, is he to obtain this latter, seeing that even scientists fre­

quently find it extremely difficult to agree upon the general concepts
of a given species?
The application of the theory of the original schematism to en­
quiry into the mechanism of primeval languages, and of the earliest
conceptions of nature, whose relics are preserved for us in the my­
thologies of ancient peoples, and lastly to the critique of scientific lan­
guage, whose expressions almost all betray their origin in schematism,
would provide the clearest evidence of how pervasive this operation is
in all the concerns of the human mind.
To complete everything that can be said about the nature of the
schema, it still remains to be observed, that it is for concepts precisely
what the symbol is for Ideas. The schema, therefore, is always and
necessarily related to an empirical object, either actual or yet to be
brought forth. Thus of every organic shape, for example, such as the
human, a schema alone is possible, whereas, for example, there are
merely symbols of beauty, eternity, and the like. Now since the aes­
thetic artist works only from Ideas, and yet on the other hand requires
once more a mechanical art, to present the art object under empirical
conditions, it is obvious in consequence that for him the graduation
from the Idea to the object is a replica of that of the mechanical artist.
Now that the concept of a schema is completely specified (it is in
fact the sensorily intuited rule for the bringing forth of an empirical
object), we can revert to a summary of our enquiry.
Our purpose was to explain how the self arrives at intuiting it­
self as active in producing. This was explained through abstraction;
the mode of action whereby the object arises had to be separated from
the outcome itself This was effected through judgment But judg­
ment itself was impossible without schematism. For in judgment an
intuition is equated with a concept; that this may happen, requires
that there be something that forms a link between the two, and this is
no other than the schema.
But now through this power of abstracting from the individual
object, or what comes to the same, through the power of empirical
abstraction, the intelligence will never arrive at detaching itself from
the object; for by the schematism itself, concept and object are again
united. Hence this power of abstraction presupposes a higher power
in the intelligence itself, such that the result thereof may come to be
posited in consciousness. If empirical abstraction is to be fixated at
all, it can come about only through a power in virtue of which we
distinguish from the object itself, not merely the
[511-12] Concept and Intuition 139

mode of action whereby the particular object arises, but the mode of
action whereby the object as such comes into being.

In order to characterize this higher abstraction more precisely, we now

need to ask,
a) what becomes of intuition, when everything conceptual is removed
from it (for in the object intuition and concept are originally united,
but now we are to abstract from the mode of action as sucA, and thus
remove everything conceptual from the object).
In every intuition a twofold distinction must be made, between
intuiting as such, or insofar as it is essentially an act, and the determi­
nant of intuition, which makes it the intuition of an object, in a word,
the concept of the intuition.
The object is this particular one, because I have acted in this
particular way, but this determinate mode of action is in fact the con­
cept, and thus the concept determines the object; hence the concept
originally takes precedence over the object itself, not in time, to be
sure, but in status. The concept is the determinant, the object the de­
terminate.
Thus the concept is not, as is commonly alleged, the universal,
but rather the rule, the restrictive factor, the determinant of the intu­
ition; and if the concept can be called undetermined, it is so only inso­
far as it is not the determinate but the determinant. It is thus the in­
tuiting, or producing, that is universal, and it is only because a con­
cept enters into this intrinsically indeterminate intuiting that it be­
comes the intuition of an object. The common explanation of the origin
of concepts, if it is not to be merely an explanation of the empirical ori­
gin thereof, namely that whereby the concept is said to arise for me be­
cause I suppress the particular in a number of individual intuitions,
and retain only the general, can be readily exposed in all its superfici­
ality. For in order to carry out this operation, I must undoubtedly
compare these intuitions with one another; but how do I achieve this,
unless I am already guided by a concept? For how, then, do we know
that these individual objects given to us are of the same sort, unless
the first has already become a concept for us? Thus this empirical pro­
cedure of apprehending what is common to many individuals already
itself presupposes the rule of apprehension, i.e., the concept, and
hence a power of abstraction higher than this empirical one.
We therefore distinguish in the intuition the intuiting
itself, and the concept or determinant of the
140 System of Transcendental Idealism [512-14]

intuiting. In the original intuition both are united. Hence if, by the
higher abstraction, which in contrast to empirical abstraction we wish
to call transcendental, everything conceptual is to be removed from in­
tuition, the latter becomes, as it were, free, for all restrictedness enters
it only through the concept. Divested of the latter, intuiting therefore
becomes an undetermined act, completely and in every respect.
If intuition becomes wholly indeterminate, absolutely without
concepts, nothing else remains of it save the general intuiting itself,
which, if it is itself intuited once more, is space.
Space is conceptless intuiting, and thus in no way a concept that
might have been first abstracted, say, from the relationships of things;
for although space arises for me through abstraction, it is still no ab­
stract concept either in the sense that categories are, or in the sense
that empirical or specific concepts are; for if there was a specific con­
cept of space, there would have to be many spaces, instead of which
there is but one infinite space, which is presupposed by every limita­
tion in space, that is, by every individual space. Since space is merely
an intuiting throughout, it is necessarily also an intuiting into the infi­
nite, such that even the smallest part of space is still itself an intuit­
ing, that is, a space and not, say, a mere boundary; and this alone is
the basis for the infinite divisibility of space. Geometry, although it
draws all its proofs solely from intuition, and yet does so no less gener­
ally than from concepts, ultimately owes its existence entirely to this
property of space; and this is so generally admitted, that no further
demonstration of it is needed here.
b) What becomes of the concept when everything intuitive is removed
from it?
In that, by transcendental abstraction, the original schematism
is done away with, it follows that if conceptless intuition arises at one
extreme, an intuitionless concept must come about at the other. If the
categories, as deduced in the preceding epoch, are determinate intu­
ition-forms of the intelligence, then if they are divested of intuition,
pure determinacy alone must remain behind. It is this that is desig­
nated by the logical concept. Hence, if a philosopher begins by adopt­
ing merely the standpoint of reflection or analysis, he will also be able
to deduce the categories as no more than purely formal concepts, and
thus to deduce them simply from logic. But apart from the fact that
the different functions of judgment in logic are themselves in need of
a further derivation, and that so far from transcendental philosophy
being abstracted from logic, the latter has to be abstracted
[514-15] Categories 141

from the former, it is in any case a pure deception to believe that the
categories, once separated from the schematism of intuition, continue
to remain as real concepts; for, divested of intuition, they are purely
logical concepts, connected with intuition, yet no longer concepts
proper, but true forms of intuition. The inadequacy of such a deriva­
tion will betray itself through still other deficiencies, e.g., that it can­
not uncover the mechanism of the categories, the special any more
than the general, though it is evident enough. Thus it is certainly a
striking feature of the so-called dynamic categories, that each of them
has its correlate, whereas with the so-called mathematical categories
this is not the case. Yet this peculiarity is very easily accounted for,
once we know that in the dynamic categories inner and outer sense
are still unseparated, whereas of the mathematical categories one be­
longs only to inner, and the other only to outer sense. Again, the oc­
currence, throughout and in every class, of three categories, of which
the first pair are opposed, while the third is a synthesis of the two,
shows that the general mechanism of the categories rests upon a
higher opposition, no longer perceived from the standpoint of reflec­
tion, and therefore requiring the existence of a higher viewpoint, lying
further back. Since, moreover, this opposition runs through all the
categories, and it is one type that underlies them all, there is undoubt­
edly also but one category, and since from the original mechanism of
intuition we could derive only the single category of relation, it is to
be expected that this one category will be primary, which a closer in­
spection does indeed confirm. If it can be shown that prior to reflec­
tion, or beyond it, the object is in no wise determined by the math­
ematical categories, it being in fact only the subject that is so deter­
mined, whether it be as intuiting or as feeling, just as, for example,
the object is one, not indeed in itself, but only in relation to the simul­
taneously intuitant and reflecting subject; and if it can be shown, in
contrast, that already in the first intuition, and without a supervening
reflection, the object must be determined as substance and accident:
Then it surely follows from that, that the mathematical categories are
as such subordinated to the dynamic, or that the latter precede the
former; and hence, for this very reason, the mathematical categories
can only present separately what the dynamic present as united,
namely that the categories arising merely from the viewpoint of reflec­
tion, so long as here too there has been no preceding opposition of
outer and inner sense, as happens in the categories of modality, also
belong merely to inner sense or to outer, and so can likewise
142 System of Transcendental Idealism [515-16]

have no correlate. The proof might be effected more briefly by consid­

ering that in the original mechanism of intuition the first two catego­
ries emerge only by way of the third; the third of the mathematical
categories, however, always already presupposes reciprocity^ in that,
for example, we can neither think of a universe of objects without a
general reciprocal presupposing of objects by one another, nor even of
a limiting of the individual object without viewing objects as mutually
limited by one other, that is, in a universal reciprocal relation. Hence,
of the four classes of categories, only the dynamic are left as funda­
mental, and if it can further be shown that even those of modality can­
not be categories in the same, that is, an equally fundamental sense as
those of relation, then only the latter remain as the sole basic catego­
ries. But now in the original mechanism of intuition no object actually
presents itself as possible or impossible, in the way that every object
figures as substance and accident. Objects first appear as possible, ac­
tual and necessary only through the highest act of reflection, which
has not even been deduced at all so far. These terms express a mere
relation of the object to the cognitive faculty as a whole (to inner and
outer sense), of such a kind that neither through the concept of possi­
bility, nor even through that of actuality, is any determination what­
ever posited in the object itself. This relating of the object to the whole
cognitive faculty is, however, indubitably first possible only when the
self has completely divorced itself from the object, ie, from its ideal
and real activity alike, and that is to say by means of the highest act of
reflection. In reference to this act the categories of modality can thus
again be called the highest, just as can those of relation in regard to
the synthesis of productive intuition; but from this it is evident, in­
deed, that they are not original categories appearing in course of the
primary intuition.

Ill

Transcendental abstraction is the condition of judgment, but not judg­

ment itself. It explains merely how the intelligence arrives at separat­
ing object and concept, but not how it again unites them both in the
judgment. How the intrinsically quite intuitionless concept and the
intrinsically quite conceptless intuition of space again unite into the
object, is inconceivable without an intermediary. But that which me­
diates as such between concept and intuition is the schema. Hence
transcendental abstraction will also be superseded again by a
schematism, which in distinction from that deduced earlier we shall
term transcendental schematism.
[516-17] Transcendental Schematism 143

The empirical schema was explained as the sensorily intuited

rule whereby an object can be brought forth empirically. The tran­
scendental schema will thus be the sensory intuition of the rule
whereby an object can be brought forth as such, or transcendentally.
Now insofar as the schema contains a rule, to that extent it is merely
the object of an inner intuition; while insofar as it is a rule for the con­
struction of an object, it must in fact be intuited externally, as some­
thing delineated in space. Thus the schema is, as such, an intermedi-
aiy between inner and outer sense. Hence the transcendental schema
will have to be explained as that which mediates most fundamentally
between inner and outer sense.
But the most fundamental intermediary of inner and outer
sense is time, not insofar as it is merely inner sense, that is, an abso­
lute boundary, but insofar as it itself again becomes an object of outer
intuition; time, therefore, insofar as it is a line, ie, a magnitude ex­
tended in one direction.
We linger upon this point, in order to determine more exactly
the real character of time.
Seen from the standpoint of reflection, time is merely a form of
intuition of inner sense, since it comes about only in regarding the
succession of our presentations, which from this point of view exists
solely in ourselves; whereas the coexistence of substances, which is the
condition of inner and outer sense, we can only intuit outside us.
From the standpoint of intuition, on the other hand, time at the outset
is already an outer intuition, since from that point of view there is in­
deed no difference between presentations and objects. So although
time, for reflection, is merely an inner form of intuition, for intuition it
is both at once. From this property of time we may discern, among
other things, why, though space is the substrate of geometry only,
time is the substrate of the whole of mathematics, and why all of ge­
ometry, even, can be reduced to analysis; and this in turn explains the
relation between the geometrical method of the ancients and the ana­
lytical method of the moderns, whereby, though the two are opposed to
each other, exactly the same results are nonetheless obtained.
This property of time, whereby it appertains at once to both
outer and inner sense, is the sole ground for its role as the universal
link between concept and intuition, or as transcendental schema.
Since the categories are originally types of intuition, and hence not
separated rom the schematism—a separation which first occurs
through transcendental abstraction—it will be evident from this,
1. that time already enters originally into productive
144 System of Transcendental Idealism [517-19]

intuition, or the construction of the object, as was also demonstrated in

the preceding epoch;
2. that from this relation of time to pure concepts on the one hand,
and to pure intuition, or space, on the other, the entire mechanism of
the categories must allow of being derived;
3. that if by transcendental abstraction the original schematism is
done away with, an altogether different view of the original construc­
tion of the object must also come about; and this, since the abstraction
in question is the condition of all consciousness. Hence, through the
very medium it must traverse to attain to consciousness, productive
intuition loses its character.
A few examples may serve to elucidate this latter point.
In every change there is a transition from one state into its con­
tradictory opposite, as, for example, when a body switches from move­
ment in direction A to movement in direction -A. In the selMdentical
intelligence, with its constant striving for identity of consciousness,
this combination of contradictorily opposite states is possible only
through the schematism of time. Intuition produces time as con­
stantly in transition from A to -A, in order to mediate the contradiction
between opposites. By abstraction, the schematism, and with it time,
are abolished. There is a well-known sophism whereby the ancient
sophists contest the possibility of communicating motion. Take, they
say, the last instant at which a body is at rest, and the first at which it
moves; there is no intermediate between the two. (This is also per­
fectly true from the standpoint of reflection.) Hence, if a body is set in
motion, this happens either at the last instant of its rest, or the first
instant of its motion; but the former is impossible, because it is still at
rest, and the latter impossible, because it is already in motion. This
sophism is originally resolved through productive intuition; to solve
it for reflection, the artificial concepts of mechanics are devised; but
reflection can conceive the transition of a body, eg, from rest to mo­
tion, i.e., the union of contradictorily opposing states, only as mediated
by an infinity; productive intuition has been abolished for it, yet the
latter alone can picture an infinite in the finite, that is, a quantity in
which, though itself finite, no indefinitely smaller part is possible;
and so reflection finds itself obliged to interpolate between these two
states an infinity of discrete portions of time, each of which is infi­
nitely small. But now this transition, e.g., from one direction into its
opposite, still has to occur in a finite time, albeit through endless
intermediate steps, which is originally possible, however, only by
means of continuity; and hence the movement
[519-20] Transcendental Schematism 145

itself, which is communicated to the body in an instant, can only be a

solicitation, since otherwise an infinite velocity would be generated in
a finite time. All these peculiar notions are made necessary only by
the abolition of the original schematism of intuition. But so far as mo­
tion as such is concerned, a construction of it from the standpoint of
reflection is utterly impossible, since between any two points on a line
an infinity of others must be supposed. Hence even geometry postu­
lates the line, that is, demands that reflection itself bring it forth in
productive intuition, which it certainly would not do if the genesis of a
line could be conveyed through concepts.
From time's property of being a transcendental schema, it is
self-evident that it is no mere concept, such as might be abstracted ei­
ther empirically or transcendentally. For everything that time could
be abstracted from already presupposes it as a condition. But were it a
transcendental abstraction like the concepts of the understanding,
then, just as there are, for example, many substances, so equally there
would have to be many times; yet there is but one time; what we speak
of as diSerent times are merely different partitions of absolute time.
Hence, too, there can be no demonstration from mere concepts of any
axiom of time, e*g., that two times cannot exist separately or simulta­
neously, or of any proposition of arithmetic that rests wholly upon the
form of time.
Having now deduced the transcendental schematism, we also
find ourselves in a position to exhibit completely the entire mechanism
of the categories.
The first category underlying all the others, the only one
whereby the object is already determined in production, is, as we
know, that of relation, which, since it is the sole category of intuition,
will be alone in presenting inner and outer sense as still united.
The first category of relation, that of substance and accident, be­
tokens the first synthesis of inner and outer sense. But now if the
transcendental schematism be removed from the concepts of both sub­
stance and accident, nothing remains save the merely logical concepts
of subject and predicate. If, on the other hand, we remove all concepts
from both, substance remains only as pure extensity, or space, and ac­
cident only as absolute boundary, or time, insofar as it is simply inner
sense and is wholly independent of space. But now how the in itself
wholly intuitionless concept of the logical subject, or the equally
intuitionless concept of the logical predicate, can become in the one
case substance, and in the other, accident, is explicable only by the
fact that the determination of time is added to them both.
But this determination is first added through the
146 System of Transcendental Idealism [520-21]

second category, for only through the second (deduced by us as the in­
tuition of the first) does that which in the first is inner sense become
time for the self. Hence the first category as such is intuitable only
through the second, as has been shown at the proper juncture; the
ground of this, which appears here, is that only through the second do
we add the transcendental schema of time.
Substance is intuitable as such only by being intuited as persist­
ing in time, but it cannot be intuited as persistent unless time, which
has so far designated only the absolute boundary, flows (extends itself
in one dimension), which in feet comes about only through the succes­
sion of the causal sequence. But conversely, too, that any succession
occurs in time is intuitable only in contrast to something that persists
therein, or, since time arrested in its flow = space, that persists in
space, and this in fact is substance. Hence these two categories are
possible only mutually through one another, that is, they are possible
only in a third, which is reciprocity.
From this deduction the following two propositions can be ab­
stracted as a matter of course, whereby the mechanism of all the other
categories becomes intelligible:
1. The opposition obtaining between the first two categories is
the same as that originally obtaining between space and time;
2. The second category in each class is necessary only because it
appends the transcendental schema to the first.—
Not for the purpose of anticipating something as yet underived,
but in order to clarify these two propositions by further employment,
we set forth their application to the so-called mathematical categories,
although these have not yet been deduced as such.
We have already pointed out that these are not categories of in­
tuition, in that they arise solely from the standpoint of reflection. But
concurrently with reflection, the unity of outer and inner sense is at
once abolished, and the one basic category of relation thereby divided
into two opposites, of which the first designates only that in the object
which pertains to outer sense, while the other expresses only that in
the object which belongs to outwardly intuited inner sense.
If then, to begin with the first, we remove everything intuitive
from the category of unity, which stands first in the class of quantity,
we are left only with logical unity. If this is to be combined with intu­
ition, the determination of time must be added. But now quantity com­
bined with time is number. Hence only by way of the second category
(that of plurality) does the determination of time come to be appended.
For only with a given plurality does numbering begin. Where there is
[521-23] Transcendental Schematism 147

only one, I do not number. Only through multiplicity does unity be­
come a number. (That time and plurality first enter together is also
apparent from the fact that only through the second category of rela­
tion, namely that whereby time first arises for the self in outer intu­
ition, is a multiplicity of objects determined. Even in the arbitrary suc­
cession of presentations, a multiplicity of objects only arises for me in
that I apprehend them one after another, i.e., apprehend them simply
and solely in time. In the number series, only through multiplicity
does 1 become a unity, that is, an expression of finitude as such. This
can be shown as follows. If 1 is a finite number, there must be a pos­
sible divisor for it, but 1/1 = 1, hence 1 is divisible only by 2, 3, etc.,
that is, by plurality as such; without this it is 1/0, i.e., the infinite.)
But just as unity is unintuitable without plurality, so plurality is
unintuitable without unity, and so both mutually presuppose one an­
other, that is, both are possible only through a third that is common to
them.
The same mechanism now appears in the categories of quality.
If I remove from reality the intuition of space, which is effected by
transcendental abstraction, nothing remains for me save the mere
logical concept of position as such. If I again combine this concept
with the intuition of space, I obtain the filling of space; but there is no
intuiting of this without some degree that is, without having a magni­
tude in time. But the degree, that is, the determination by time, is
first added only through the second category, that of negation. So
again the second is necessary here simply because the first only be­
comes intuitable by means of it, or because it appends to the latter the
transcendental schema.
This may perhaps be clarified as follows. If I think the real in
objects to myself as unrestricted, it will spread out to infinity, and
since intensity, as shown, stands in converse relation to extensity,
nothing remains save infinite extensity devoid of all intensity, namely
absolute space. If, on the other hand, we think of negation as the un­
restricted, nothing remains save infinite intensity without extensity,
that is, a point, or inner sense insofar as it is merely inner sense. So if
I take the second category away from the first, I am left with absolute
space; if I take the first away from the second, I am left with absolute
time (i.e., time merely as inner sense).
Now in the original intuition neither concept, nor space, nor
time arises for us alone and separately, but rather all are given at
once. Just as our object the self conjoins these three determinations
unconsciously, and of itself, to the object, so likewise have we fared
in the deduction of productive intuition. Through
148 System of Transcendental Idealism [523-24]

transcendental abstraction, which consists, in fact, in the annulment

of that third thing which binds intuition, only the intuitionless concept
and the conceptless intuition could remain to us as constituents
thereof From this standpoint, the question, how the object is possible,
can be formulated only as follows: how wholly intuitionless concepts,
which we find in us as concepts a priori, come to be so indissolubly
conjoined with the intuition, or can so pass over into it, that they are
utterly inseparable from the object? Now since this transition is pos­
sible only through the schematism of time, we conclude that time, too,
must have already entered into that original synthesis. There is thus
a complete change in the order of construction that we followed in the
preceding epoch, in that it is transcendental abstraction which alone
enables us to set forth with clear consciousness the mechanism of the
original synthesis.

IV

Transcendental abstraction was postulated as the condition of empiri­

cal abstraction, and this as the condition of judgment. Hence this ab­
straction lies at the basis of every judgment, even the most common­
place, and the capacity for transcendental abstraction, or the capacity
for a priori concepts, is as necessary to every intelligence as self-con­
sciousness itself.
But the condition does not come to consciousness prior to the
conditioned, and transcendental abstraction is submerged in the judg­
ment, or in empirical abstraction, which together with its outcome is
thereby elevated into consciousness.
Now however in fact transcendental abstraction, along with its
result, again comes to be posited in consciousness, we can know that
in ordinary consciousness nothing of either appears necessarily and
that if anything thereof does appear, it is utterly contingent; and we
may thus conjecture it in advance to be possible only through an
action which in relation to ordinary consciousness can no longer be
necessary (for otherwise even its result would have always and neces­
sarily to be found therein); hence the action must be one which follows
from no other in the intelligence itself (but rather, as it were, from an
action outside it), and this action is thus an absolute one for the intel­
ligence itself. The ordinary consciousness may attain to awareness of
empirical abstraction and what results therefrom; for this is taken
care of, indeed, by transcendental abstraction. But the latter, perhaps
precisely because everything that emerges in empirical consciousness
as such is posited by means of it, will itself no longer attain
[524-25] Absolute Abstraction as Postulate 149

to consciousness necessarily, and if it does attain thereto, will appear

there only in a contingent fashion.
But now it is obvious that only by also becoming conscious of
transcendental abstraction could the self first elevate itself absolutely,
for itself, above the object (for through empirical abstraction it only
breaks loose from the determinate object); and that only by elevating
itself above any object, could it recognize itself as an intelligence. But
now this act is an absolute abstraction, and precisely because it is ab­
solute, can no longer be explained through any other in the intelli­
gence; and hence at this point the chain of theoretical philosophy
breaks off, and there remains in regard to it only the absolute demand:
there shall appear such an act in the intelligence. But in so saying,
theoretical philosophy oversteps its boundary, and crosses into the do­
main of practical philosophy, which alone posits by means of categori­
cal demands.
Whether and how this act be possible is a question that no
longer falls within the scope of the theoretical enquiry; but there is one
question it still has to answer. —Supposing hypothetically that such
an act exists in the intelligence, how will the latter find itself, and how
will it find the world of objects? Undoubtedly through this act there
arises for it precisely what was already posited for us through tran­
scendental abstraction, and thus in ourselves taking a step into practi­
cal philosophy, we bring our object right up to the point that we are
leaving, in going over into the practical.
By an absolute act the intelligence elevates itself above every­
thing objective. Everything objective would disappear for it in this act,
if the original restrictedness did not persist; but the latter must
persist, for if the abstraction is to occur, then that from which abstrac­
tion is made cannot cease to exist. Now in the abstracting activity, the
intelligence feels itself absolutely free, and yet at the same time, as by
an intellectual gravitation, pulled back into the intuition by the
original restrictedness; and hence first in this very act it comes to be
limited for itself as an intelligence; no longer merely as real activity,
as in sensationt nor merely as ideal activity, as in productive intuition,
but as both together, that is, as an object. It appears to itself as limited
through productive intuition. But the intuition, qua act, has been
submerged in consciousness, and only the product has remained. That
it recognizes itself as limited through productive intuition is equiva­
lent to saying that it recognizes itself as limited by the objective world.
So here for the first time the objective world and the intelligence
confront one another in consciousness itself, just as we find it in
consciousness through the primary philosophic abstraction.
150 System of Transcendental Idealism [525-27]

The intelligence can now fixate transcendental abstraction,

though this already occurs through freedom, and a special direction of
freedom at that. This explains why a priori concepts do not make an
appearance in every consciousness, and do not figure always and nec­
essarily in any. They can emerge, but they do not have to do so.
Through transcendental abstraction, everything is separated
that was united in the original synthesis of intuition, and so all this,
though always through freedom, will come to be separated, for the in­
telligence, as an object. Time, for example, will be separated from
space and from the object, space will appear as the form of coexistence,
and objects as each having its position in space reciprocally deter­
mined one by another; but in all this the intelligence finds itself en­
tirely free in regard to the object from which the determination pro­
ceeds.
In general, however, its reflection is directed either to the object,
whereby there arises for it the already deduced category of intuition or
relation.
Or else it reflects upon itself. If it simultaneously both reflects
and intuits, there arises for it the category q£quantity, which, con­
joined with the schema, is number; though the latter, for that very
reason, is not a primary category.
If it simultaneously both reflects and senses, or if it reflects upon
the degree to which time is filled for it, there arises for it the category
of quality.
Or finally, through the highest act of reflection, it reflects simul­
taneously upon the object and。几 itself, insofar as it is at once both real
and ideal activity. If it reflects simultaneously on the object and on it­
self as real (free) activity, there arises for it the category of possibility.
If it does so upon the object and on itself as ideal (limited) activity, it
thereby obtains the category of actuality.
And here again it is only through the second category that the
determination of time is added to the first. For, by what was deduced
in the preceding epoch, the limitation of the ideal activity consists pre­
cisely in the fact that it recognizes the object as contemporaneous.
Hence an object is actual if it is posited in a determinate instant of
time, and possible, on the other hand, if it is posited and as it were
thrown into time generally, by the activity that reflects upon the real.
If the intelligence also goes on to unite this further
contradiction between real and ideal activity, there arises for it
the concept of necessity. The necessary is that which is posited in
all time; but all time is the synthesis for time generally and for
particular time, because that which is posited in all
[527-28] Conclusion of Theoretical Philosophy 151

time is posited no less determinately than in the particular case, and

yet no less freely than in time generally.
The negative correlates of the categories of this class do not be­
have like those of relation, since in fact they are not correlates, but
contradictory opposites of the positive categories. Nor, indeed, are
they genuine categories, ie, concepts whereby an object of intuition
would be determined even for reflection; on the contrary, if the posi­
tive categories of this class are the highest for reflection, or the
syllepsis of all others, these negative ones, conversely, are the absolute
opposite of the whole body of categories.
Since the concepts of possibility, actuality and necessity arise
through the highest act of reflection, they are necessarily also those
wherewith the entire arch of theoretical philosophy terminates. But
that these concepts already stand on the road leading from theoretical
to practical philosophy will by now be already partly foreseen by the
reader, and in part will be recognized more clearly still, as we now
proceed to erect the system of practical philosophy.

General Note upon the Third Epoch

The final enquiry which must conclude the whole of theoretical phi­
losophy is undoubtedly that concerning the distinction between a
priori and a posteriori concepts, which can hardly be made clear, in­
deed, in any other way but by exhibiting their origin in the intelli­
gence itself. The peculiarity of transcendental idealism in regard to its
doctrine is precisely this, that it can also demonstrate the so-called a
priori concepts in respect of their origin; a thing that is only possible,
indeed, in that it transports itself into a region lying beyond ordinary
consciousness. A philosophy that confines itself to the latter, on the
other hand, is able, in fact, to discover these concepts only as present
and, so to speak, lying there, and thereby involves itself in the in­
soluble difficulties by which the defenders of these concepts have long
since been confronted.
In that we project the origin of the so-called a priori concepts be­
yond consciousness, where we also locate the origin of the objective
world, we maintain upon the same evidence, and with equal right,
that our knowledge is originally empirical through and through, and
also through and through a priori.
All our knowledge is originally empirical, precisely because con­
cept and object arise for us unseparated and simultaneously. For were
we originally to have a knowledge a priori〉there would first have to
152 System of Transcendental Idealism [528-29]

arise for us the concept of the object, and then the object itself in con­
formity thereto, which alone would permit a genuine a priori insight
into the object. Conversely, all that knowledge is called empirical
which arises for me wholly without my concurrence, as happens, for
example, in a physical experiment whose result I cannot know before­
hand. But now all knowledge of objects originally comes to us in a
manner so far independent of us, that only after it is there do we de­
vise a concept thereof, but cannot give out this concept as itself again
furnished by the wholly involuntary intuition. All knowledge is thus
originally purely empirical.
But precisely because our whole knowledge is originally through
and through empirical, it is through and through a priori. For were it
not wholly our own production, our knowledge would either be all
given to us from without, which is impossible, since if so there would
be nothing necessary and universal in our knowledge; or there would
be nothing left but to suppose that some of it comes to us from outside,
while the rest emerges from ourselves. Hence our knowledge can only
be empirical through and through in that it comes wholly and solely
from ourselves, i.e.t is through and through a priori.
Insofar, that is, as the self produces everything from itself, to
that extent everything—not just this concept or that, or merely the
form of thought, even, but the whole of our knowledge, one and indi­
visible—is a priori.
But insofar as we are not aware of this producing, to that extent
there is nothing a priori in us, and everything, in fact, is a posteriori
To become aware of our knowledge as a priori in character, we have to
become aware of the act of producing as such, in abstraction from the
product. But in course of this very operation, we lose from the con­
cept, in the manner deduced above, everything material (all intuition),
and nothing save the purely formal can remain behind. To that extent
we do indeed have concepts a priori, and purely formal ones at that,
but these concepts also exist only insofar as we conceive, insofar as we
abstract in that particular fashion, and emerge, therefore, not auto­
matically, but by a special exercise of freedom.
Hence there are a priori concepts without there having to be
innate concepts. It is not concepts that are innate in us, but our own
nature and the whole of its mechanism. This nature is a specific one,
and acts in a specific manner, though quite unawares, for it is itself
nothing else but this acting: the concept of this acting is not in it, for
otherwise it would have had originally to be something distinct there­
from, and if the concept entered it, it would first do so by way
[529-30] A Priori and A Posteriori 153

of a new act, which took that first act as its object.

Given, however, that original identity of acting and being which
we think in the concept of the self, it becomes quite impossible to en­
tertain, not merely the idea of innate concepts, whose abandonment
had already long been necessitated by the discovery that in all con­
cepts there is something active, but also the claim still commonly
made, that these concepts are present as original dispositions, for the
latter rests solely upon the notion of the self as a special substrate, dis­
tinct from its acts. For whoever tells us that he is unable to think of
any act without a substrate, admits in so doing that this supposed sub­
strate of thought is itself a mere product of his imagination, and thus
again merely his own thinking, which he is thereby compelled to pre­
suppose as independent, and so on backwards ad infinitum. It is a
mere illusion of the imagination to believe that, after one has removed
from an object the only predicates it possesses, something of it, we
know not what, must still remain behind. Thus nobody, for example,
will say that impenetrability is implanted into matter, for impenetra­
bility is matter itself. Why, then, do people talk of concepts that are
implanted into the intelligence, seeing that these concepts are the in­
telligence itself? —The Aristotelians compared the soul to a blank tab­
let, upon which the lineaments of external things are first of all en­
graved. But if the soul is not a blank tablet, is it then, on that ac­
count, simply an inscribed one?
If a priori concepts are dispositions in us, we further have need
of an external impact in order to bring these dispositions out. The in­
telligence, on this view, is a sleeping power upon which external
things operate, so to say, as causes to arouse its activity, or as stimuli.
The intelligence, however, is not a sleeping power that has first been
actuated, for if so it would have to be something other than activity,
would have to be activity conjoined with a product, much as the organ­
ism is, in being an intuition of the intelligence already endowed with
potentiality. Moreover, that unknown from which the impact pro­
ceeds, once stripped of all concepts a priori, has no objective predicates
left to it at all, and one would thus have to posit this x in an intelli­
gence of some sort; as Malebranche did, who would have us see all
things in God, or the sagacious Berkeley, who speaks of light as a con­
verse of the soul with God; though these are ideas which need no refu­
tation for a generation that does not even understand them.
Thus if a priori concepts were taken to include certain original
dispositions of the self, one would be justified in continuing to advance
the view that maintains all concepts to arise from external
154 System of Transcendental Idealism [530-31]

impressions; not, indeed, as if anything intelligible can be thought in

doing so, but rather because then, at least, there would be unity and
wholeness in our knowledge. —Locke, the chief proponent of this view,
contends against the figment of innate concepts which he attributes
[sic] to Leibniz, who was very far from holding it, but does not notice
that it is equally unintelligible either to have Ideas originally im­
planted in the soul, or to suppose them first implanted there by ob­
jects; nor does it ever occur to him to ask, not only whether in this
sense there are any innate Ideas, but whether there is any Idea at all
of such a kind that it could be an impression on the soul, or equally,
where it could come from?
All these confusions are resolved by the one principle, that in
origin our knowledge is no more a priori than it is a posteriori, since
this whole distinction is made simply and solely in regard to philo­
sophic consciousness. For the same reason, namely that in origin (that
is, in regard to the object of philosophy, the self) our knowledge is nei­
ther one nor the other, it can also not be partly the one and partly the
other, a view which in fact renders impossible all truth or objectivity of
a priori knowledge. For in that it completely abolishes the identity of
presentation and object, seeing that effect and cause can never be
identical, it must maintain either that things accommodate themselves
like some shapeless stuff to those original forms in ourselves, or con­
versely, that those forms are governed by the things, whereby they
lose all necessity. Nor is this all; for the third possible presupposition,
whereby the objective world and the intelligence are presented in the
manner of two clocks which, while knowing nothing of each other and
being completely separated, agree together in that each goes regularly
on its own, maintains a claim that is utterly superfluous and violates a
cardinal principle of all explanation: namely that what can be ex­
plained by one thing should not be explained by many; not to mention
the fact that even this objective world, lying quite outside the presen­
tations of the intelligence, can still, since it is the expression of con­
cepts, exist once more only through and for an intelligence.
 Part Four

System of Practical Philosophy according to the Principles of

Transcendental Idealism

We think it not unnecessary to warn the reader in advance that what

we here seek to establish is, not a moral philosophy of any kind, but
rather a transcendental deduction of the thinkability and explicability
of moral concepts as such; also, that we shall conduct this enquiry into
that aspect of moral philosophy which falls within the scope of tran­
scendental philosophy at the highest level of generality. This we shall
do by tracing back the whole to a few principles and problems, while
leaving the application to particular problems to the reader himself,
who in this way may most easily discover, not only whether he has
grasped our transcendental idealism, but also, which is the main
thing, whether he has equally learned to make use of this type of
philosophy as an instrument of enquiry.
First Proposition. Absolute abstraction, i.e., the beginning of
consciousness, is explicable only through a self-determining, or an act
of the intelligence upon itself.
Proof. We presume that the meaning of the term absolute ab­
straction is already understood. It is the act whereby the intelligence
raises itself absolutely above the objective. Since this act is an abso­
lute one, it cannot be conditioned by any of the preceding acts, and
thereby the concatenation of acts, wherein each succeeding one is nec­
essarily made through that which preceded it, is as it were broken off,
and a new sequence begins.
That an act does not follow from a preceding act of the intelli­
gence means that it cannot be explained from the intelligence, insofar
as it is this particular one, and insofar as it acts in a particular way;
and since it must be explicable as such, it is so only from the absolute
in the intelligence itself, from the ultimate principle of all action
therein.
That an act is explicable only from the ultimate in the intelli­
gence itself must (since this latter is nothing else but its original dual­
ity) mean the same as this: the intelligence must determine itself to
this act. Thus the act is admittedly explicable, though not from a
determinacy of the intelligence, but from an immediate self-determin­
ing.
But an act whereby the intelligence determines itself is an act
upon itself. Hence absolute abstraction is explicable only from such an
act of the intelligence upon itself, and since absolute abstraction
156 System of Transcendental Idealism [533-34]

is the beginning of all consciousness in time, the first beginning of con­

sciousness is also explicable only from such an act. which is what we
had to prove.

Corollaries

1. This self-determining of the intelligence is called willing^ in the

commonest acceptation of the term. That in every willing there is a
determining of self, or at least that it appears to be an act of this sort,
is something that everyone can demonstrate for himself through inner
intuition; whether this appearance is truthful or deceptive is of no con­
cern to us here. Nor indeed are we speaking of any determinate act of
will, in which the concept of an object would already be present, but
rather of a transcendental self-determining, or of the original act of
freedom. But what this selfUetermination may be is inexplicable to
anyone who does not know of it from his own intuition.
2. If this self-determination is the original act of will, it follows that it
is only through the medium of willing that the intelligence becomes an
object to itself.
The act of the will is thus the complete solution to our problem
of how the intelligence recognizes itself as intuiting. Theoretical phi­
losophy was brought to completion by three major acts. In the first,
the still unconscious act of self-awareness, the self became a subject­
object, without being so for itself. In the second, the act of sensation,
only its objective activity became an object to it. In the third, that of
productive intuition, it became an object to itself as sensing, that is, as
a subject. So long as the self is producing merely, it is never objective
as a self, precisely because the intuitant is always directed upon some­
thing other than itself, and, as that for which everything else is objec­
tive, does not become objective itself; so that throughout the whole ep­
och of production we could never reach the point at which the pro­
ducer, the intuitant, became an object to itself as such; productive in­
tuition alone could be raised to a higher power (e.g., through organi­
zation), but not the self-intuition of the self itself Only in willing is the
latter also first raised to a higher power, for by this the self becomes
an object to itself as the whole which it is, that is, as at once both sub­
ject and object, or as that which produces. This producing function de­
taches itself, as it were, from the purely ideal self, and now can never
again become ideal, but is the external and absolute objective for the
self itself.
3. Since, through the act of self-determination, the
[534-35] Theoretical and Practical Philosophy 157

self becomes an object to itself qua self, the question remains as to how
this act may be related to that original act of self-consciousness, which
is likewise a self-determining, although it does not bring about the
same result.
By what has preceded we are already supplied with a mark of
distinction between the two. The first act contained only the simple
opposition between determinant and determinate, which corresponded
to that between intuitant and intuited. In the present act we no
longer have this simple opposition; instead, the determinant and de­
terminate are collectively confronted by an intuitant, and both to­
gether, the intuited and intuitant of the first act, are here the intuited.
The ground of this distinction was as follows. In that first act
the self as such first came to be, for it is nothing else but that which
becomes an object to itself; hence in the self there was as yet no ideal
activity, which could simultaneously reflect upon what was emerging.
In the present act the self already exists, and it is a question only of its
becoming an object to itself as that which it already is. Objectively re­
garded, indeed, this second act of self-determination is therefore just
the same, in fact, as the first and original one, save with this differ­
ence only, that in the present act the whole of the first becomes an ob­
ject to the self, whereas in the first act itself only the objective element
therein did so.
Here, no doubt, is also the most suitable place to review simulta­
neously the oft-repeated question, by what common principle do theo­
retical and practical philosophy hang together?
It is autonomy which is commonly placed at the summit only of
practical philosophy, and which, enlarged into the principle of the
whole of philosophy, turns out, on elaboration, to be transcendental
idealism. The difference between the primordial autonomy, and that
which is dealt with in practical philosophy, is simply this: by means of
the former the self is absolutely self-determinant, but without being so
for itself—the self both gives itself the law and realizes it in one and
the same act, wherefore it also fails to distinguish itself as legislative,
and discerns the laws in its products, merely, as if in a mirror. By
contrast, in practical philosophy the self as ideal is opposed, not to the
real, but to the simultaneously ideal and real, yet for that very reason
is no longer ideal, but idealizing. But for the same reason, since the
simultaneously ideal and real, that is, the producing self, is opposed to
an idealizing one, the former, in practical philosophy, is no longer
intuitant, that is, devoid of consciousness, but is consciously produc­
tive, or realizing.
158 System of Transcendental Idealism [536-37]

Thus practical philosophy rests entirely upon the duality of the

self that both idealizes (projects ideals) and realizes. Now realizing is
assuredly also a producing, and thus the same with that which in
theoretical philosophy constitutes intuition, save with this difference,
that here the self produces consciously, just as in theoretical philoso­
phy, conversely, the self is also idealizing, save only that in this case
concept and act, projection and realization, are one and the same.
From this contrast between theoretical and practical philosophy
a number of significant conclusions can at once be drawn, of which we
here give only the most important.
a) In theoretical philosophy, Le., prior to consciousness, the ob­
ject arises for me exactly as it does in practical philosophy, ie, subse­
quent to consciousness. The diflerence between intuition and free ac­
tion is merely this, that in the latter case the self is productive for it­
self The intuitant, as always when it simply has the self as its object,
is purely ideal, whereas the intuited is the whole self, that is, the self
that is simultaneously ideal and real. That which acts in us when we
act freely is the same that intuits in us; or the intuitant and the practi­
cal activity are one—the noteworthy outcome of transcendental ideal­
ism, which throws a flood of light upon the nature of intuition and ac­
tion alike.
b) The absolute act of self-determination was postulated in
order to explain how the intelligence becomes intuitant for itself.
After the oft-repeated experience that we have had on this point, it
cannot astonish us if through this act also we see the emergence for us
of something quite different from what we expected. Throughout the
whole of theoretical philosophy we have seen the endeavor of the
intelligence, to become aware of its action as such, persistently mis­
carry. The same is also the case here. But upon this very miscarriage,
upon the very fact that complete consciousness arises simultaneously
for the intelligence in that it intuits itself as producing, rests the
further fact, that for it the world becomes really objective. For by the
very feet that the intelligence intuits itself as producing, the purely
ideal self separates itself from that which is at once ideal and real, and
so is now wholly objective and completely independent of the purely
ideal. In the same intuition the intelligence becomes consciously
productive, but it is supposed to become conscious of itself as pro­
ductive without consciousness. This is impossible, and for that reason
only does the world appear to it as really objective, that is, as present
without its own concurrence. The intelligence will not now cease
[537-38] Theoretical and Practical Philosophy 159

to produce, but it produces consciously, and so here there begins an

entirely new world, which from this point on will extend ad infinitum.
The first world, if we may so express it> that is, the world brought
about through unconscious production, now falls, as it were, behind
consciousness, together with its origin. The intelligence will thus
never be able to recognize directly that it produces this world out of it­
self just as much as it does the second world, whose gestation begins
with consciousness. Just as, from the original act of self-conscious­
ness, a whole nature developed, so, from the second act, that of free
self-determination, a second nature will come forth, whose derivation
is the entire topic of the enquiry that follows
Until now we have reflected only upon the identity of the act of
self-determination with the original act of self-consciousness, and upon
the one mark of distinction between them, namely that the former is
conscious whereas the latter is not. There is, however, yet another
distinction of great importance to which further attention must be
paid, namely that the original act of self-consciousness falls altogether
outside tim% whereas the present act, which marks, not the transcen­
dental, but the empirical starting point of consciousness, necessarily
occurs at a particular phase of consciousness.
But now every action of the intelligence which occurs for it at a
particular juncture in time is, in consequence of the original mecha­
nism of thought, an action that has necessarily to be explained. Yet it
is likewise beyond question that the act of self-determination here re­
ferred to is not to be explained from any preceding act in the intelli­
gence; for we were indeed driven back upon it as a ground of explana­
tion, i・e» ideallyt but not really, or in such a way that it resulted nec­
essarily from a preceding act. —In general—to recall the fact in pass­
ing—bo long as we were following the intelligence in its producing, ev­
ery subsequent act was conditioned by that which preceded it; as soon
as we forsook that sphere, the order reversed itself completely and we
had to infer from the conditioned to the condition, so that it was inevi­
table that we should eventually find ourselves driven back upon some­
thing unconditioned, i.e., inexplicable. But this cannot be, in virtue of
the intelligence's own laws of thought, and as surely as the act in
question occurs at a particular juncture in time.
The contradiction here is that the act has to be at once both
explicable and inexplicable. For this contradiction a mediating con­
cept must be found, a concept that has hitherto entered not at all for
us within the scope of our acquaintance. In resolving
160 System of Transcendental Idealism [538-39]

this problem we proceed as we have done in the solution of other prob­

lems, namely in such a way as to define the task with ever-increasing
accuracy—until the one possible solution remains behind.
That an act of the intelligence is inexplicable means that it can­
not be explained from any preceding action, and since we at present
know of no other act besides that of producing, this means that it is
not to be explained by any prior producing on the part of the intelli­
gence. To say that the act is not explicable from a producing is not to
say that it is inexplicable absolutely. However, since the intelligence
contains nothing at all save what it produces, this something, if it is
not a producing, cannot be contained therein; and yet it has got to be
so contained, since an act in the intelligence has to be explained
thereby. Hence the act has to be explicable from something that both
is and is not a producing on the part of the intelligence.
This contradiction can be mediated in no other way save the fol­
lowing: This something which contains the ground of free selMeter-
mination must be a producing on the part of the intelligence, although
the negative condition of this producing must lie outside it; the fonner,
because nothing enters the intelligence save through its own action;
the latter, because in and for itself this act is not to be explicable from
the intelligence itself. Conversely, the negative condition of this some­
thing outside the intelligence must be a determination in the intelli­
gence itself, doubtless a negative one; and since the intelligence is but
an act, it will have to be a nonaction of the intelligence.
If this something is conditioned by a nonaction, and by a par­
ticular nonaction of the intelligence at that, it is therefore something
that can be excluded and made impossible by an action of the latter,
and is thus itself an action, and even a particular one. The intelli­
gence is thus to intuit an action as resulting, and as with all other in­
tuiting by means of a producing in the intelligence, there must there­
fore be no immediate influence exerted upon the latter, there must be
no positive condition of its intuiting lying outside it, it must remain as
always entirely closed up within itself; and likewise, on the other
hand, it must not be the cause of this action, but must merely contain
the negative condition thereof, and to that extent the action has to
take place in complete independence of the intelligence. In a word,
this act must not be the direct ground of a producing in the intelli­
gence, but again, conversely, the intelligence must not be a direct
ground of the action, and likewise the presentation of such an act in
the intelligence, as an act independent of it, and the act itself, outside
[539-40] Something Outside the Intelligence 161

it, must coexist, as though the one were determined by the other.
Such a relationship is conceivable only through a preestablished
harmony. The act outside the intelligence comes about entirely on its
own; the intelligence contains only the negative condition thereof^ that
is, if it had behaved in a certain fashion, this act would not have taken
place; but by merely not acting it still does not become the direct or
positive ground of the act, for by the mere fact of its not acting, this act
would still not have occurred unless there had been something else
outside the intelligence which contained the ground of that act. Con­
versely, the idea or concept of the act arrives in the intelligence en­
tirely on its own, as though there were nothing outside the latter; and
yet it could not occur therein unless the act took place really and inde­
pendently of the intelligence; and hence this act likewise is again only
the indirect ground of a presentation in the intelligence. This indirect
reciprocity is what we understand by a preestablished harmony.
But such a harmony is conceivable only between subjects of
equal reality, and hence this act must have proceeded from a subject
endowed with just the same reality as the intelligence itself; that is, it
must have proceeded from another, external intelligence, and thus by
the contradiction noted above we find ourselves led on to a new prin­
ciple.
Second Proposition. The act of self-determination, or the free ac­
tion of the intelligence upon itself, can be explained only by the deter­
minate action of an intelligence external to 让.
Proof. This is contained in the deduction just effected, and rests
solely upon the two propositions, that self-determination must be at
once explicable, and yet not explicable by a producing on the part of
the intelligence. So instead of dwelling any further on the proof, let us
pass on at once to the problems which we see to emerge from this doc­
trine and from the proof adduced for it.
First, then, we see at all events that a determinate action of an
extraneous intelligence is the necessary condition of the act of self-de­
termination, and thereby of consciousness; but we do not see howt and
in what manner such an external act could be even the indirect
ground of a free self-determination in ourselves.
Second. We do not perceive how there can be any external in­
fluence at all upon the intelligence, and so also do not see how the in­
fluence of another intelligence upon it may be possible. By now, in­
deed, this difficulty has already been met by our deduction, in
162 System of Transcendental Idealism [542*43]

that we have deduced an act external to the intelligence merely as the

indirect ground of an action within it. But now how, then, can we even
conceive of this indirect relationship, or of any such predetermined
harmony between different intelligences?
Third. If this predetermined harmony were to be accounted for
in some such fashion as this, that by a particular nonacting in myself
there would necessarily be posited for me a particular act on the part of
an intelligence outside me, then presumably the latter, since it is tied
to a contingent condition (my nonacting), is a free action, so that this
nonacting of mine would also be free in nature. But now the latter is
supposed to be the condition of an act whereby consciousness, and with
it freedom, first arise for me; how can one conceive of a free nonacting
prior to freedom itself?
These three problems must first of all be solved before we can
proceed any further in our enquiry.
Solution of the first problem. By the act of self-determination I
am to arise for myself as a self, that is, as a subject-object. Moreover,
this act is to be a free one; that I determine myself is to have its ground
wholly and solely in myself. If the act is a free one, I must have willed
what comes about for me through this act, and it must come about for
me only because I have willed it. But now that which arises for me
through this act is willing itself (for the self is a primordial willing). I
must thus already have willed the willing before I can act freely, and
the concept of willing, like that of the self, likewise first arises for me
only through this act.
This manifest circle is eliminable only if willing can become an
object for me prior to willing. This is impossible through my own
agency, so it will have to be simply that concept of willing which would
arise for me through the act of an intelligence.
It is therefore only such an act external to the intelligence which
can become for it an indirect ground of self-determination, whereby the
concept of willing arises for it; and the problem now changes into this,
namely by what action, then, can the concept of willing arise for the in­
telligence?
It cannot be an act whereby the concept of a real object arises
for it, since it would thereby revert to the point which it is just sup­
posed to have left. It must therefore be the concept of a possible object,
that is, of something which does not now exist, but can do so in the
moment that follows. But even by that the concept of willing is not
yet engendered. It must be the concept of an object which can exist
only if the intelligence makes it real. Only through the concept of
[542-43] Intelligence outside the Intelligence 163

such an object can that which is divided in willing be divided in the

sel£ for the self itself; for insofar as the concept of an object arises for
the self, it is merely ideal, while insofar as this concept arises for it as
the concept of an object to be realized by its act, it becomes for the self
both ideal and real at once. Thus by means of this object it at least can
become, qua intelligence, an object to itself. But it only can do so. For
it really to appear so to itself, requires that it should contrast the
present moment (that of ideal limitation) to that which follows (that of
producing), and should relate the two together. The self can be
obliged to do this only by the fact that this act constitutes a demand
for realization of the object. Only through the concept of obligation
does the contrast arise between the ideal and the producing self. Now
whether the action whereby the required item is realized actually en­
sues, is uncertain, for the condition of the action that is given (the con­
cept of willing), is a condition thereof as a free action; but the condition
cannot contradict the conditioned, so that if the former is posited the
action would be necessary. Willing itself always remains free, and
must so remain, if it is not to cease to be a willing. Only the condition
for the possibility of willing must be generated in the self without its
concurrence. And thus we see forthwith a complete removal of the
contradiction, whereby the same act of the intelligence had to be both
explicable and inexplicable at once. The concept which mediates this
contradiction is that of a demand, since by means of the demand the
action is explained, if it takes place, without it having to take place on
that account. It may ensue, as soon as the concept of willing arises for
the selg or as soon as it sees itself reflected, catches sight of itself in
the mirror of another intelligence; but it does not have to ensue.
We cannot address ourselves at once to the further conclusions
which result from this solution to our problem, since we must first of
all answer the question, how in fact can this demand of an intelligence
outside it get through to the self; which question, more generally
stated, amounts to this: how then, in general, can intelligences exert
influence upon one another?
Solution of the second problem. We first investigate this ques­
tion altogether at large, and without reference to the special case now
before us, to which the application can easily and automatically be
made.
That an immediate influencing among intelligences is impos­
sible, according to the principles of transcendental idealism, stands
in no need of proof, nor has any other philosophy rendered such an
influence intelligible. Hence nothing remains but to suppose
164 System of Transcendental Idealism [543-44]

an indirect influence between different intelligences, and here we are

concerned merely with the conditions for the possibility of this.
Among intelligences which are to act upon each other through
freedom, there must, then, in the first place, be a preestablished har­
mony in regard to the common world which they present. For since all
determinacy in the intelligence comes about only through the
determinacy of its presentations, intelligences who intuited utterly dif­
ferent worlds would have absolutely nothing in common, and no point
of contact at which they could come together. Since I draw the concept
of intelligence solely from myself, an intelligence that I am to recog­
nize as such must stand under the same conditions in intuiting the
world as I do myself; and since the difference between it and me is con­
stituted solely by our respective individualities, that which remains
when I remove the determinacy of this individuality must be common
to us both, that is, we must be alike in regard to the first, the second,
and even the third kind of restrictedness, leaving aside the deter-
minacy of the latter.
But now if the intelligence brings forth everything objective out
of itself, and there is no common archetype for the presentations that
we intuit outside us, the consilience among the presentations of
different intelligences—as regards both the whole of the objective
world and also individual things and events within the same space
and time (which consilience alone compels us to ascribe objective
truth to our presentations)—is explicable no otherwise than from our
common nature, or from the identity both of our primitive and also
of our derived restrictedness. For just as the original restrictedness
predetermines, for the individual intelligence, everything that may
enter into the sphere of its presentations, so also does the unity of
that restrictedness ensure a thoroughgoing consilience among the
presentations of different intelligences. This common intuition is
the foundation, and, as it were, the solid earth upon which all
interaction between intelligences takes place; a substrate to which,
for that very reason, they constantly revert, so soon as they find
themselves in disharmony about that which is not directly determined
by intuition. —Only here the explanation should not venture to
extend further, to some absolute principle, which, by operating as
the communal focus of intelligences, or their creator and agent of
uniformity (concepts wholly unintelligible to us), should contain the
common basis of their agreement in regard to objective presentations.
On the contrary, as surely as there exists a single intelligence, with
all the determinations of its consciousness that we
[544-45] Preestablished Harmony of Intelligences 165

have derived, so surely are there also other intelligences with the
same determinations, for they are conditions of the consciousness of
the first, and vice versa.
But now different intelligences can have in common only the
first and second forms of restriction, and the third only in a general
sense; for the latter is precisely that by virtue of which the intelligence
exists as a specific individual. Hence it seems that, precisely through
this third restrictedness, insofar as it is a particular one, all commu­
nity between intelligences is done away with. However, even through
this restriction of individuality, a preestablished harmony can again
be conditioned, if we do but suppose it to be the opposite of the previ­
ous one. For whereas the latter, which occurs in regard to their objec­
tive presentations, serves to posit something common among intelli­
gences, the third restrictedness, by contrast, serves to posit in every
individual something which, precisely for that reason, is negated by all
the others, and which they cannot therefore intuit as their own action,
but only as other than theirs, that is, as the action of an intelligence
outside them.
The claim, therefore, is that immediately through the individual
restrictedness of every intelligence, immediately through the negation
of a certain activity therein, this activity is posited for it as the activity
of an intelligence outside it, which thus constitutes a preestablished
harmony of a negative kind.
To demonstrate such a thesis, two propositions must therefore
be proved,
1. That what is not my activity must be intuited by me, simply
because it is not mine, and without the need of any direct influence
upon me from without, as the activity of an intelligence outside me;
2. That immediately through the positing of my individuality,
without further restriction from outside, a negation of activity is pos­
ited in me.
Now so far as the first proposition is concerned, we must observe
that we are speaking only of conscious or free acts; now the intelli­
gence is admittedly confined in its freedom by the objective world, as
has already been shown in general above, but within this restriction
it is again unrestricted, so that its activity can, for example, be di­
rected toward any object it pleases; now if we suppose that it begins
to act, its activity will necessarily have to be directed toward some
particular object, in such a way as to leave all other objects free and,
as it were, undisturbed: but now there is no seeing how its originally
quite indeterminate activity should restrict itself in this fashion, un­
less the direction towards these other objects were
166 System of Transcendental Idealism [545-47]

somehow made impossible for it, which, so far as we have seen hith­
erto, is possible only through intelligences outside it. It is thus a con­
dition of self-consciousness that I intuit in general an activity of
intelligences outside me (the enquiry as yet being still an entirely gen­
eral one), because it is a condition of self-consciousness that my activ­
ity be directed upon a specific object. But this very direction of my ac­
tivity is something that is already posited and predetermined by the
synthesis of my individuality. By the same synthesis, therefore, other
intelligences, whereby I intuit myself as restricted in my free action,
and hence also specific actions of these intelligences, are likewise al­
ready posited for me, without the need of any further special influ­
ence, on their part, upon myself.
We forbear to show the application of this solution to particular
cases, or to meet at once the objections that we can anticipate, in order
first merely to clarify the solution itself by means of examples.
The following may serve by way of elucidation. Among the origi­
nal drives of the intelligence there is also a drive for knowledge, and
knowledge is one of the objects upon which its activity may be di­
rected. Let us suppose this happens, which in fact will be so only if
the immediate objects of activity are all already preoccupied, so that
the activity of the intelligence is already restricted by that very fact;
but in itself this object is again infinite, and so here too it will again
have to be confined: if we suppose, therefore, that the intelligence di­
rects its activity upon a specific object of cognition, it will either dis­
cover or acquire the knowledge of that object, that is, it will arrive at
this kind of cognition through alien influence. Now what serves to
posit this alien influence here? Merely a negation in the intelligence
itself; for either its individual restrictedness renders it wholly incap­
able of discovery, or the discovery has already been made, and if so,
this too is again posited by the synthesis of its individuality, to which
it also appertains that the intelligence has first begun to exist at this
particular period of time. Hence it is only through negations of its
own activity that the intelligence is exposed, and as it were opened, to
alien influence as such.
But now arises a new question, the most important of this en­
quiry: how then, by pure negation, can anything positive be posited,
in such a way that I am obliged to intuit what is not my activity, sim­
ply because it is not mine, as the activity of an intelligence outside me?
The answer is as follows: to will at all, I must will something determi­
nate, but this I could never do if I could will everything; hence, by
[547-48] Activity of an Outside Intelligence 167

involuntary intuition it must already have been made impossible for

me to will everything; but this is inconceivable unless already with my
individuality, and hence my self-consciousness, so far as it is a thor­
oughly determinate one, limiting points have been set to my free ac­
tivity, and such points can now be, not selfless objects, but only other
free activities, that is, actions of intelligences outside myself.
So if the meaning of the question is this: why then does that
which does not take place through myself have to take place at all
(which in fact is the meaning of our claim, in that immediately
through the negation of a particular activity in the one intelligence,
we have it affirmatively posited in the other), we answer it thus: since
the realm of possibility is infinite, everything that under given circum­
stances is possible simply and solely through freedom must therefore
be actual, unless indeed one single intelligence is to be limited realiter
in its free action^ and that actually by intelligences outside it; so that
there remains for it only the one particular object upon which it di­
rects its activity.
But if an objection were to be drawn, say, from totally purpose­
less acts, we reply by saying that such acts simply do not belong
among free acts, and so are also excluded from among those which, in
respect of their possibility, are predetermined for the moral world; on
the contrary, they are mere natural consequences, or phenomena,
which like all others are already predetermined by the absolute syn­
thesis.
Or suppose one were to argue in the following manner: granted
that it is already determined through the synthesis of my individuality
that I intuit this act as the work of another intelligence, it was still not
determined thereby that precisely this individual should perform it.
In reply to this we ask: what, then, is this individual, if not just the
one who acts so and not otherwise, or what is your conception of him
made up from, if not just from his manner of acting? By the synthesis
of your individuality, it was indeed only determined for you that some
other intelligence should engage in this particular activity; but by the
very fact that he engages in it, such an other becomes this particular
one that you think him to be. That you therefore intuit the activity as
the work of this particular individual, was determined, not by your in­
dividuality, but assuredly by his own; though you can seek the ground
thereof only in his free determination of himself, so that it must also
appear to you as absolutely contingent that it is precisely this indi­
vidual who engages in the activity in question.
The harmony derived thus far, and undoubtedly made
168 System of Transcendental Idealism [548-49]

intelligible, therefore consists in this, that immediately through the

positing of a passivity in myself which is necessary in the interests of
freedom, since it is only through a determinate affection from without
that I can attain to freedom, an activity outside me is posited as a nec­
essary correlate, and posited for my own intuition; and this theory is
accordingly the reverse of the ordinary one» just as transcendental ide­
alism arises in general through a direct inversion of previous modes of
philosophical explanation. According to the ordinary notion, passivity
is posited in me through activity outside me, so that the latter is pri­
mary and the former a consequence thereof. According to our theory,
the passivity posited immediately through my own individuality is the
condition for the activity which I intuit outside me. Imagine a quan­
tum of activity, as it were, to be distributed over the whole order of ra­
tional beings; every one of them has the same right to the total, but in
order simp^ to be active at all, it has to be active in a particular way;
if it could appropriate the whole quantum to itself, then only absolute
passivity would be left over for all rational beings outside it. Through
negation of activity in itself, therefore, there is posited immediately,
that is, not merely in thought, but in intuition also (since everything
that is a condition of consciousness must be externally intuited), an ac­
tivity outside itself, and posited to precisely the extent that such activ­
ity is suspended in itself.
We pass on to the second question left unanswered above,
namely how far, through the immediate positing of individuality, a ne­
gation of activity is also necessarily posited? This question has al*
ready been largely answered by what has gone before.
Individuality not only involves being there at a particular time,
and whatever other restrictions are posited by existence as an organ­
ism; it is also the case that, through action itself, and in the acting, in­
dividuality restricts itself anew, to the point where one may say in a
certain sense that the more an individual acts, the less free does he be­
come.
But in order merely to be able to start acting, I must already
be restricted. That my free activity is originally directed only to a
specific object, was explained above by the fact that other intelligences
have already made it impossible for me to will everything. Yet a
multiplicity of such intelligences cannot have made it impossible
for me to will a multiplicity of things; that out of a number of objects,
B, C, D, I choose just C, must still have its ultimate ground located
in myself alone. But now this ground
[549-50] Original Restriction of Freedom 169

cannot lie in my freedom, for it is through this restriction of free activ­

ity to a particular object that I first become aware of myself, and thus
also free; hence, before I am free, that is, conscious of freedom, my
freedom must already have been restricted, and certain free actions
must, even before I am free, have been made impossible for me. This,
for example, is the province of what we call talent or genius, and not
only genius in the arts or sciences, but also genius for action. It is a
hard saying, but no less true on that account, that just as innumerable
men are basically unfitted for the highest functions of the spirit, so an
equal multitude will never be capable of acting with that freedom and
elevation of spirit over even law itself, which can be granted only to a
chosen few.
It is this fact, that free actions have actually been already made
impossible from the start by an unknown necessity, which compels
men to bless or bewail, at times the grace or disfavor of nature, at
times the decree of fate.
The result of our whole enquiry can now be summarized most
briefly as follows:
To achieve the original self-intuition of my own free activity,
this latter can be posited only quantitatively, that is, under restric­
tions; and since the activity is free and conscious, these restrictions
are possible only through intelligences outside me, in such a fashion
that, in the operations of these intelligences upon me, I discern noth­
ing save the original bounds of my own individuality, and would have
to intuit these, even if in fact there were no other intelligences beyond
myself That although other intelligences are posited in me only
through negations) I nevertheless must acknowledge them as existing
independently of me, will surprise nobody who reflects that this rela­
tionship is a completely reciprocal one, and that no rational being can
substantiate itself as such, save by the recognition of others as such.
But if, now, we apply this general explanation to the case before
us, it leads us to the
Solution of the third problem. For if, indeed, all influence of
rational beings upon me is posited through a negation of free activity
in myself, and yet that first influence, which is the condition of
consciousness, can come about before I am free (for freedom only
arises with consciousness), the question is, how then can freedom be
restricted in me even before I am conscious of being free? The
answer to this question is already contained in part in the foregoing,
and here we merely add the remark, that this influence which is
the condition of consciousness must be thought o£ not just as an
individual act, but as persisting; for the
170 System of Transcendental Idealism [550-52]

continuance of consciousness is rendered necessary neither by the ob­

jective world alone, nor by the first influence of another rational being;
it is a matter, rather, of a continuing influence urging us to become re­
peatedly orientated anew within the intellectual world; and this comes
about in that, through the influence of a rational being, it is not un­
conscious, but conscious and free activity (which merely glimmers
through via the medium of the objective world), that is reflected and
becomes an object to us as free. This progressive influence is what we
call education, in the widest sense of the word, wherein education is
never completed, but persists as a condition of the continuance of con­
sciousness. But now there is no understanding how this influence
necessarily persists, unless for every individual, even before it is free,
a certain quantity of free actions—as we may be allowed to put it, for
the sake of brevity—is negated. The never-ceasing interaction of ra­
tional beings, regardless of their ever-increasing freedom, is thus alone
made possible by what we call diversity of talents and characteristics,
which, for that very reason, however much it may seem opposed to the
drive for freedom, is itself necessary as a condition of consciousness.
But as to how this original restrictedness may be reconciled with free­
dom itself in regard to moral actions, whereby, for example, it is
impossible for a man throughout his whole life to attain to a certain
degree of excellence, or to outgrow the tutelage of others—that is a
question with which transcendental philosophy does not have to be
concerned; for its task is everywhere merely to deduce phenomena,
and freedom itself, for it, is nothing else but a necessary phenomenon,
whose conditions, for that reason, must have a similar necessity; see­
ing that the question whether these phenomena are objective and true
in themselves has no more meaning than the theoretical question,
whether there are things-in-themselves.
The solution of the third problem therefore consists simply in
this, that there must already be in me from the start a free, though
unconscious, nonacting, that is, the negation of an activity which, if it
were not originally suspended, would be free, but of which, since it is
suspended, I cannot in fact become conscious as an activity of my own.
With this second principle of ours, the thread of the
synthetic enquiry that was cut off earlier is now again tied
together. As was observed at the time, it was the third restricted­
ness which had to contain the ground of the action whereby the self
is posited for itself as intuiting. But this third restrictedness was
in feet individuality, whereby, indeed, was already determined in
advance the existence and influence of
[552-53] Individuality as Restriction 171

other rational beings upon the intelligence, and therewith freedom, the
power of reflecting upon the object, of becoming conscious of oneself,
and the whole sequence of free and conscious acts. The third
restrictedness, or that of individuality, is thus the synthetic point or
pivot of theoretical and practical philosophy, and only now have we re­
ally arrived in the territory of the latter, and the synthetic enquiry be­
gins afresh.
Since the restrictedness of individuality, and hence that of free­
dom, was originally posited only in that the intelligence was obliged to
intuit itself as an organic individual, we simultaneously perceive here
the reason why—involuntarily, and through a sort of universal in­
stinct—the contingent features of the organism, the particular shape
and build of the noblest organs especially, have been regarded as the
visible expression, and at least as affording the presumption, of talent
and of character itself.

Additional Remarhs

In the course of the investigation that has just been going on, we have
deliberately left undiscussed a number of subsidiary questions, which,
now that the main enquiry is concluded, require to be given an an­
swer,
1. We claimed that by the operation of other intelligences upon
an object the unconscious direction of the free activity upon it could be
rendered impossible. It was already presupposed in this claim that, in
and for itself, the object is incapable of raising the activity directed
upon it to the level of consciousness; not, indeed, as if the object be­
haves with absolute passivity in response to my acting, a thing that,
though the contrary thereof has not yet been proved, was certainly not
presupposed either. It is merely that for itself and without the prior
operation of an intelligence, the object is not capable of reflecting the
free activity as such within itself. What, then, is added to the object by
the operation of an intelligence, which the object does not possess in
and for itself?
In answering this question, the preceding discussion at least
supplies us with a datum.
Willing does not depend, as producing does, upon the simple
opposition between ideal and real activity, but upon a twofold opposi­
tion between the ideal on the one side and the ideal and real on the
other. In willing, the intelligence is both idealizing and realizing at
the same time. If it were merely realizing, indeed, then since all
realization contains an ideal activity as well as the real, it would
give expression to a concept in the object. Since it is not simply
realizing, however, but besides that and independently
172 System of Transcendental Idealism [553-54]

of realization is also ideal, it cannot simply express a concept in the ob­

ject, but by free action must express therein a concept of the concept.
Now insofar as production depends only on the simple contrast be­
tween ideal and real activity, the concept must so belong to the nature
of the object itself, that it is absolutely inseparable therefrom; the con­
cept goes no further than the object does, and each must be exhaustive
of the other. In a production, on the other hand, which contains an
ideal activity of the ideal* the concept would necessarily have to go be­
yond the object, or as it were exceed the latter. But this is possible
only if the concept which exceeds the object can exhaust itself in an*
other object beyond the first, that is, if the latter is related to some­
thing else as a means to an end. It is therefore the concept of the con­
cept—this itself being the concept of an end outside the object—which
is appended to it by the free act of producing. For no object has an end
outside it, in and for itself, since if there are themselves purposive ob­
jects, they can only be purposive in relation to themselves, and are
thus their own ends. It is only the artifact, in a broad sense of the
term, that has an end outside itself. As surely, then, as intelligences
must mutually restrict one another in acting, and this is as necessary
as consciousness itself, so surely also must artifacts emerge within the
sphere of our outer intuitions. How artifacts may be possible is un­
doubtedly an important question for transcendental idealism, but it
has not yet been answered here.
Through the direction upon it of a free and conscious activity,
the object is furnished with the concept of the concept, whereas in the
object of blind production, on the other hand, the concept passes di­
rectly over into the object, and can be distinguished from it only by
means of the concept of the concept, though this can only arise for the
intelligence through an external influence. If this be the case, the ob­
ject of blind intuition will be unable to push reflection any further,
that is, to anything independent of the object, and so the intelligence
will come to a halt at the mere phenomenon. The artifact, however,
though admittedly it too is at first only my own intuition, by the fact
that it expresses the concept of the concept, will push reflection imme­
diately to an intelligence outside itself (for only such a one is capable of
thus raising the concept to a higher power), and hence to something
absolutely independent of itself. So it is through the artifact alone
that the intelligence can be pushed toward something that is no longer
an object, and thus its own production, but something far higher than
[554-55] Outside Intelligences and Objectivity 173

any object, namely an intuition external to it, which, since it can never
become a thing intuited, is for it the first absolutely objective item en­
tirely independent of itself. Now the object which pushes reflection to­
ward something beyond any object, posits counter to free operation an
invisible ideal resistance, whereby, on that very account, it is not the
objective, producing activity that is reflected in ourselves, but an activ­
ity at once ideal and productive. So where it is merely force, now ob­
jective and appearing as physical in character, which encounters resis­
tance, there can only be nature present; but where conscious activity,
that is, this ideal activity of the third order, is reflected in oneself
there is necessarily something invisible present, additional to the ob­
ject, which makes a blind direction of activity upon the object utterly
impossible.
Now it cannot, indeed, be suggested, that through the influence
thus exerted by an intelligence upon the object, my freedom in regard
to the latter is absolutely taken away. All we are saying is that the in­
visible resistance which I encounter in such an object compels me to a
decision, that is, to a restriction of myself; or that the activity of an­
other rational being, insofar as it is fixated or made manifest in ob­
jects, serves to determine me to self-determination; and this question,
how I am able to will something determinate, was all that we had to
explain.
2. Only by the fact that there are intelligences outside me, does
the world as such become objective to me.
It has just been shown that only operations of intelligences upon
the world of sense compel me to accept something as absolutely objec­
tive. We are not now speaking of this, but rather of the fact that the
whole essentiality of objects only becomes real for me, in that the intel­
ligences are outside me. Nor are we referring to anything that might
first be evolved through habituation or upbringing, but rather to the
fact that already from the start the notion of objects outside me simply
cannot arise, save through intelligences external to me. For
a) that the notion of an outside me, as such, could arise only
through the operation of intelligences, either upon myself, or upon
sensory objects whereon they set their stamp, is already apparent from
the fact that objects in and for themselves are not outside me; for
where objects are, there am I also, and even the space in which I intuit
them is originally only in myself. The sole original outside me is an in­
tuition outside me, and this is the point at which the idealism we start
with is first transformed into realism.
b) I am, however, under a special necessity of
174 System of Transcendental Idealism [555-57]

envisaging objects as external to and independent of myself (and that

objects appear to me as such must be deduced as necessary, if it can be
deduced at all); that this necessity is solely due to an intuition outside
me, has now to be proved as follows.
That objects really exist outside me, ;*e.» independently of me, is
something of which I can only be convinced if I am sure that they also
exist when I do not intuit them. That objects existed before the indi­
vidual did, is something of which he cannot be convinced by merely
finding himself to be coming in at a particular point in the succession,
since this is simply a consequence of his second restrictedness. The
sole objectivity which the world can possess for the individual is the
feet of its having been intuited by intelligences outside the self. (It can
also be deduced from this very fact that there must be states of
nonintuiting, for the individual.) The harmony we have already pre­
determined earlier, in regard to the involuntary presentations of dif­
ferent intelligences, is thus at the same time to be deduced as the sole
condition under which the world becomes objective to the individual.
For the individual, these other intelligences are, as it were, the eternal
bearers of the universe, and together they constitute so many inde­
structible mirrors of the objective world. The world, though it is pos­
ited solely through the self, is independent of me, since it resides for
me in the intuition of other intelligences; their common world is the
archetype, whose agreement with my own presentations is the sole cri­
terion of truth. In a transcendental enquiry we make no appeal to the
fact that a discrepancy in our own presentations with respect to those
of others immediately makes us doubtful as to their objectivity; nor do
we argue that for every unexpected appearance it is the presentations
of others which provide, as it were, the touchstone; we rely, rather,
solely on this, that intuition, like everything else, can only become ob­
jective to the self through outer objects, which objects, now, can be
nothing else but intelligences outside us―so many intuitions, that is,
of our own intuiting.
It therefore also follows automatically from the above, that a ra­
tional being in isolation could not only not arrive at a consciousness of
freedom, but would be equally unable to attain to consciousness of the
objective world as such; and hence that intelligences outside the indi­
vidual, and a never-ceasing interaction with them, alone make com­
plete the whole of consciousness with all its determinations.
Our task, to discover how the self may recognize itself as
intuitant, is now fully discharged at last.
[557-58] How Willing becomes Objective 175

Willing (with all the determinations which, according to the foregoing,

belong to it) is the action whereby intuiting itself is fully posited into
consciousness.
In accordance with the familiar procedure of our science there
now arises for us the new
E

Problem: To explain how willing again becomes objective

for the self.

Solution
I
Third Proposition. Willing, at the outset, is necessarily directed upon
an external object.
Proof. By the free act of self-determination, the self as it were
destroys everything material in its presenting, in that it makes itself
wholly free in regard to the objective; and only by this, in fact, does
willing become willing. But the self could not become aware of this act
as such, if willing did not once more become an object to it. This how­
ever, is possible only in that an object of intuition becomes the visible
expression of its willing. But eveiy object of intuition is a particular
one, and must therefore be this particular one only because and insofar
as the self has willed in this particular manner. Only so would the self
become its own cause of the matter of its presenting.
But moreover the action whereby the object becomes this par­
ticular one must not be absolutely identical with the object itself^ for
otherwise the action would be a blind producing, a mere intuiting. The
action as such and the object must therefore remain distinguishable.
But now the action conceived as such, is a concept. But that concept
and object remain distinguishable is possible only in that the object ex­
ists independently of this action, that is, in that the object is an exter­
nal one. Conversely, the object, on that very account, becomes an ex­
ternal one for me only through willing, for willing is willing only inso­
far as it is directed upon something independent of it.
And here already we have light upon what is still more fully ex­
plained in the sequel, namely why the self can in no way appear to it­
self as bringing forth an object as though it were a substance, and why,
on the contrary, all bringing forth in willing appears only as a forming
or shaping of the object.
Our proof has now shown, indeed, that willing as such can be­
come objective to the self only through being directed upon an external
object; but it is not yet explained from whence this direction itself can
come.
In regard to this question, it is already presupposed that
productive intuition persists inasmuch as
176 System of Transcendental Idealism [558-59]

I will; or that in willing itself I am compelled to present determinate

objects. No actuality, no willing. So through willing there straightway
arises an opposition, in that by means of it I am aware on the one
hand of freedom, and thus also of infinity, while on the other I am con­
stantly dragged back into finitude by the compulsion to present.
Hence, in virtue of this contradiction, an activity must arise which
wavers in the middle between finitude and infinity. For the time be­
ing we shall call this activity imagination, merely for brevity*s sake*
and without thereby wishing to maintain without proof that what is
commonly spoken of as imagination is in fact such a wavering between
finitude and infinity; or, what comes to the same, an activity mediat­
ing the theoretical and the practical; the proof of all which will in fact
be found in what follows. This power, therefore, which we refer to
meanwhile as imagination, will in course of this wavering also neces­
sarily produce something, which itself oscillates between infinity and
finitude, and which can therefore also be regarded only as such. Prod­
ucts of this kind are what we call Ideas as opposed to concepts, and
imagination in this wavering is on that very account not understand­
ing but reason; and conversely, what is commonly called theoretical
reason is nothing else but imagination in the service of freedom. But
that Ideas are mere objects of imagination, having their place only in
this wavering between finitude and infinity, is evident from the fact
that, once they are made objects of the understanding, they lead to
those insoluble contradictions which Kant set forth under the name of
the antinomies; contradictions whose existence rests solely on the fact
that either we reflect upon the object, in which case it is necessarily fi­
nite, or else we reflect further upon our own reflecting, whereby the
object again at once becomes infinite. But now it is obvious that if the
question whether the object of an Idea be finite or infinite is depen­
dent merely on the free orientation of reflection, the object as such can
itself be neither the one nor the other; and if so, these Ideas must as­
suredly be mere products of imagination, that is, of an activity such
that it produces neither the finite nor the infinite.
But now how, in willing, the self makes the transition, even in
thought, from the Idea to the determinate object (for how such a tran­
sition may be objectively possible is still not in question at all), is be­
yond comprehension, unless there is again some intermediary, which
is for acting precisely what in thinking the symbol is for ideas, or the
schema for concepts. This mediating factor is the ideal.
Through the opposition between ideal and object
[559-61] Ideas, Ideals and Drives 177

there first arises for the self the opposition between the object as the
idealizing activity demands it, and the object as it actually is according
to constrained thought; but this opposition at once engenders the drive
to transform the object as it is into the object as it ought to be. We en­
title the activity that arises here a drive, because on the one hand it is
free, and yet on the other it springs immediately and without any
reflection from a feeling, both of which factors together make up the
concept of a drive. For that state of the self as it wavers between ideal
and object is a state of feeling, since it is a state of being restricted for
itself. But in every feeling a contradiction is felt, and nothing what­
ever can be felt save an inner contradiction within ourselves. Now
through every contradiction the condition for activity is immediately
given; the activity springs forth as soon as its condition is but given,
without any further reflection, and if it is at the same time a free ac­
tivity, which production, for example, is not, is for that very reason,
and to that extent only, a drive.
Direction upon an external object therefore finds expression
through a driveand this drive emerges directly from the contradiction
between the idealizing and the intuiting self, and is directly bent upon
restoring the lost identity of the self. As necessarily as self-conscious­
ness is to continue, so this drive must have causality (for we still go on
deducing all the acts of the self as conditions of self-consciousness,
since through the objective world alone self-consciousness is not com­
pleted, but only brought to the point at which it can begin, though
from there onwards it can be carried forward only through free acts).
The question, then, is merely, how this drive can have causality?
Here a transition is obviously postulated from the (purely) ideal
into the objective (at once both ideal and real). We first attempt to es­
tablish the negative conditions for such a transition, and will subse­
quently go on to the positive conditions, or those under which it actu­
ally takes place.

A
a) By freedom the ideal self is immediately opened to infinity, as
surely as it is cast into confinement by the mere objective world; but
it cannot make infinity an object to itself without delimiting it; con­
versely, infinity cannot be limited absolutely, but only for purposes of
action, in such a way that ig say, the ideal is realized, the Idea can be
extended further, and so on indefinitely. Thus the ideal always holds
178 System of Transcendental Idealism [562-63]

only for the present moment of action, whereas the Idea itself, which
ever becomes infinite again in reflecting upon the action, can be real­
ized only in a progressus ad infinitum. That freedom is at every mo­
ment limited and yet at every moment again becomes infinite, in re­
spect of its striving, is what alone makes possible the consciousness of
freedom, that is, the continuance of self-consciousness itself. For it is
freedom which sustains the continuity of self-consciousness. If I re­
flect upon the producing of time in my action, it becomes for me, in­
deed, a magnitude interrupted and put together out of moments. But
in action itself, time is always continuous for me; and the more I act,
and the less I reflect, the more continuous it is. The drive in question
can therefore have no causality save in time, which represents the
first determination of our transition. But now since time can be
thought of objectively only as proceeding via a succession of presenta­
tions, in which the later are conditioned by those that precede, there
must equally be such a succession present in our free producing, save
only that the presentations are related to each other, not as cause and
effect, but as means and end—seeing that every conscious action con­
tains a concept of the concept, that is, the concept of an end; and these
two concepts will be related to those of cause and effect just as a con­
cept of the concept is related to simple concepts as such. Hence we
may perceive it to be a condition of the consciousness of freedom, that
my realization of any end is not attainable directly, but only through a
number of intermediate steps.
b) It was established that action should not go over absolutely
into the object, for otherwise it would be an intuition; yet the object
has always to remain an external object, separate, that is, from my ac­
tion; how is this conceivable?
According to a), the drive can have causality only in time. But
the object is that which is in opposition to freedom; yet it now has to
be determined through freedom, and we therefore have a contradiction
here. Let the object contain a determination = a; freedom now de­
mands the opposite determination = -a. This is no contradiction for
freedom, but it is so for intuition. For the latter, the contradiction
can be removed only through the common intermediary, time. If I
could bring forth -a in the absence of all time, the transition would
be unthinkable; a and -a would coexist. In the succeeding instant
there must therefore be something which does not now exist, and
only so is a consciousness of freedom possible. But now no succession
can be perceived in time without something that persists. The
transition from a to -a in my presentations destroys
[562-63] Substance and Change 179

the identity of consciousness, and it must thus be produced once more

in the transition. This identity produced in the transition is sub­
stance, and here is the point at which this concept, like the other cat­
egories of relation, is also posited, by a necessary act of reflection, in
the ordinary consciousness. In acting, I appear to myself to be entirely
free to alter all the determinations of things; but now the object is
nothing apart from its determinations, and we likewise think of the
object throughout all the changes of its determinations as the selfsame
identical thing, namely as a substance. Substance is therefore nothing
save that which supports all these determinations, and is actually a
mere expression of our constant reflecting upon the becoming of the
object. Now since, if we picture ourselves as operating upon objects,
we must necessarily conceive of the object's transition from a given
state into an opposite one, we can similarly appear to ourselves only as
altering the contingent determinations of things, but not their sub­
stantiality.
c) We have just claimed that in my altering of the contingent de­
terminations of things, my action must be accompanied by a constant
reflection upon the changing object. But there is no reflection without
resistance. So these casual determinations must not be alterable with­
out resistance, if free action with constant reflection is to take place.
It is also evident from this that the contingent determinations of
things are the feature about them which restricts me in acting; and it
is equally apparent from thence, why these secondary properties of
things, such as hardness* softness, etc. (which are expressions of deter­
minate limitation), have no existence at all for mere intuition.
The negative conditions so far derived, for the transition from
the subjective to the objective, still leave it unexplained, however, as to
how in fact this transition actually occurs, that is, how and under
what conditions I am obliged to envisage any such thing. Such a tran­
sition could not happen at all without a constant relation between the
ideal and the object determined in accordance therewith, which rela­
tion is possible only through intuition, though it does not itself proceed
from the self, but merely wavers between two opposing presentations
of the self, the freely projected and the objective. This is self-evident,
and we therefore proceed at once to the main task of the present en­
quiry.

B
For purposes of this enquiry we return to the first requirement. By
means of a free action, something is to be determined in the objective
world.
180 System of Transcendental Idealism [563-64]

Everything in the objective world is present only insofar as the

self intuits it therein. That a thing changes in the objective world is as
much as to say that something changes in my intuition, and our
requirement amounts to this: by a free action in myself something in
my outer intuition is to be determined.
How anything might be able to pass over from freedom into the
objective world would be utterly unintelligible if this world were some­
thing subsisting in itself; and unintelligible even by virtue of a pre­
established harmony, which again would be possible only by means of
a third thing, of which the intelligence and the objective world are
common modifications; it would thus be possible only through some­
thing whereby all freedom was swallowed up in action. Given that the
world itself is merely a modification of the self, the enquiry takes a to­
tally different turn. For then the question is actually this: How can
something be determined in me through a free activity, insofar as I am
not free, insofar as I am engaged in intuition? —That my free activity
has causality means that I look upon it as having causality. The self
which acts is distinguished from the self which intuits; and yet both
have to be identical in relation to the object; what is posited into the
object by the agent must also be posited into the intuitant; the acting
self must determine the intuiting self. For that I am that which now
acts is assuredly known to me only from the identity of this latter with
that which intuits the action and is conscious thereof. The agent (it
seems) does not know, it merely acts, it is merely an object; the
intuitant alone knows and is for that very reason a mere subject. How
then does the identity now come about here, that there is posited in
the object precisely what is posited in the subject, and in the subject,
precisely what is posited in the object?
We shall first set forth the general tenor of our reply to this
question, while leaving the closer treatment of particular points to fol­
low later on.
Something in the objectively intuitant self is to be determined
by the freely acting self. Now what, then, is the free-acting self? All
free action rests, as we know, on the twofold opposition between the
ideal self on the one hand, and the simultaneously ideal and real self
on the other. —But what, then, is the intuitant self? —This very self,
at once real and ideal, which constitutes the objective in free agency.
The free-acting and the intuitant selves are thus different, once we
posit that ideal activity which stands opposed to that ofproduction;
when we remove it in thought, they are the same. Now this is undoubt­
edly the point to which we must first direct our attention, and in
564-661 Acting and Intuiting are One 181

which we must look for the ground of that identity we have postulated,
between the freely active and the objectively intuitant self.
But if we wish to arrive at complete clarity on this matter, we
must repeat the reminder, that everything we have so far deduced has
had reference only to appearance, or was merely a condition under
which the self was to appear to itself, and so did not have the same re・
ality as the self itself. What we are just now trying to explain, namely
how the se】£ insofar as it acts, can determine something in the sel£ in­
sofar as it knows—this whole opposition between acting and intuiting
self—undoubtedly also belongs only to the appearance of the self, and
not to the self proper. The self must appear to itself as though some­
thing were determined, by its action, within its intuition, or, since it is
not conscious of this, within the external world. If this be presup­
posed, the following explanation will be intelligible enough.
We set up an opposition between the free-acting and the objec­
tively intuitant self. But now this opposition does not occur objec­
tively, that is, in the self-in-itself, for the self which acts is itself the
intuitant self, only here become at the same time intuited, objective,
and thereby active. If the self which intuits (with its simultaneously
ideal and real activity) were not here at the same time the intuited,
the acting would still continue to appear as an intuiting; and con­
versely, that the intuiting appears as an acting has its ground merely
in this, that the self here is not merely intuitant, but intuited as
intuitant. The intuitant intuited is simply the self which acts. There
can thus be no thought of any mediation between that which acts and
that which outwardly intuits, nor of any, either, between the free-
acting self and the external world. On the contrary, it would be
utterly unintelligible how an outer intuition could be determined by
an action of the self, if action and intuition were not originally one.
My action, in that I fashion an object, for example, must at the same
time be an intuiting, and conversely, my intuiting in this case must
at the same time be an action; only the self is unable to perceive this
identity, since the objectively intuiting for the self here is not the
intuitant but the intuited, so that for the self this identity between
the agent and the intuitant is abolished. The change which comes
about, through free action, in the external world, must take place
entirely according to the laws of productive intuition, and as though
freedom had no part in it at all. Productive intuition acts, as it were,
entirely in isolation, and produces according to its characteristic
laws whatever now results. That this producing
182 System of Transcendental Idealism [566-67]

does not appear as an intuiting to the self has its ground solely in this,
that here the concept (the ideal activity) is opposed to the object (the
objective activity), whereas in intuition subjective and objective activ­
ity are both one. But that the concept here precedes the object is
again only due to appearance. But if the concept precedes the object
only for appearance, and not objectively or really so, then free action
as such also belongs only to appearance, and the sole objective factor is
the intuitant.
Just as one may say, therefore, that in that I thought I was intu­
iting, I was in fact acting, so one may equally say here that in that I
think I act upon the external world, I am in fact intuiting; and every­
thing that emerges in action, apart from intuiting, properly belongs
only to the appearance of the sole objective feature, namely intuiting,
and conversely, if we separate from acting everything that belongs
only to appearance, nothing remains save the intuiting.
The result thus far derived, and, as we think, sufficiently dem­
onstrated, we now seek to explain and clarify from still other points of
view.
When the transcendental idealist maintains that there is no
transition from the objective into the subjective, and that both are
originally one, the objective being merely a subjective that has become
an object, there is admittedly a major question that he has to answer:
how then, conversely, is it possible to have a transition from the sub­
jective into the objective, such as we are obliged to assume when we
act? If in every action a concept freely evolved by ourselves is to pass
over into a nature existing independently of us, although really this
nature enjoys no such independent existence, how can the transition
be conceived of?
Undoubtedly by this alone, that through this very act we in fact
first make the world become objective to us. We act freely, and the
world comes to exist independently of us—these two propositions must
be synthetically united.
Now if the world is nothing else but our own intuiting, it un­
doubtedly becomes objective to us when our intuiting does so. But
now we are presently maintaining that our intuiting first becomes
objective to us through action, and that what we call an act is nothing
but the appearance of our intuiting. If this be accepted, then our
prop)osition: “that which appears to us as an act upon the external
world is, from the idealist viewpoint, nothing else but a prolonged
intuiting/* will no longer seem repellent. Thus, for example, if some
change in the external world is brought about by an act, this change,
regarded in itself, is an intuition like any other. Hence the intuiting
[567-68] Objective and Subjective 183

itself is here the objective factor which underlies the appearance; the
element thereof which belongs to appearance is the act upon the sup­
posedly independent world of sense; so objectively here there is no
transition from the subjective into the objective, any more than there
was a transition from the objective into the subjective. It is only that I
cannot appear to myself as intuitant without intuiting a subjective as
passing over into the objective. The whole enquiry on this point can be
traced back to the general principle of transcendental idealism,
namely that in my knowing the subjective can never be determined by
the objective. In acting, an object is necessarily thought of as deter­
mined by a causality exercised by myself in accordance with a concept.
Now how do I arrive at this necessary thought? If I also assume
herein without explanation, that the object is immediately determined
by my act, in such wise that it is related thereto as effect to agency,
how then is this also determined for my presentation, why am I
obliged also to intuit the object precisely as I had determined it by my
action? My action here is in this case the object, for acting is the oppo­
site of intuiting or knowing. But now by means of this acting, this
objective, something is to be determined in my knowing, in my intuit­
ing. According to the principle just enunciated, this is impossible. By
action, my knowledge thereof cannot be determined, for on the con­
trary, rather, every action, like everything objective, must originally
be already a knowing, an intuiting. This is so clear and obvious, that
no difficulty can be found anywhere else, save perhaps in the manner
in which we are to think for purposes of appearance, of this transfor­
mation of what is objectively an intuiting into an act. Reflection here
must address itself to three things:
a) to the objective, the intuiting
b) to the subjective, which is also an intuiting, but an intuiting
of the intuiting. —To distinguish it from the former objective intuiting,
we call this latter the ideal intuiting.
c) to the appeat'ance of the objective. But now it has already
been shown that this objective, the intuiting, cannot appear unless the
concept of an intuition (ideal) precedes the intuition itself But if the
concept of intuition precedes the intuition itself, so that the latter is
determined by the former, intuiting is a producing in accordance with
a concept, that is, a free act. But now admittedly the concept precedes
the intuition itself only to ensure objectification of the intuition, and
thus the action also is merely the appearance of the intuiting, and that
which is objective therein is the producing as such, in abstraction from
the concept which precedes it.
184 System of Transcendental Idealism [568-70]

We shall attempt to make this clearer by means of an example.

Some change or other in the external world results from my causality.
If we first reflect merely on the occurrence of this change as such, then
to say that something happens in the external world undoubtedly
means no more than that I produce it, for nothing whatever exists in
the external world save by means of my producing. Insofar as this
producing of mine is an intuiting, and it is nothing else, the concept of
change does not precede the change itself; but insofar as this produc­
ing is itself again to become an object, the concept must precede. The
object which is to appear here is the producing itself. Thus in produc­
ing as such, that is, in the object, the concept does not precede the in­
tuition; it precedes only for the ideal, for the self that intuits itself as
intuiting, that is, only for purposes of appearance.
Now here it becomes clear at the same time whence we now first
obtain the distinction between objective and subjective, between an in-
itself and a mere appearance, which we hitherto had simply not drawn
at all. The ground thereof is because here we first have something
truly objective, namely that which contains the ground of everything
objective, the activity at once ideal and real, which now can never
again become subjective, and has separated itself entirely from the
merely ideal self. In this activity, insofar as it is objective, ideal and
real are simultaneous and identical, while insofar as it appears, and
(in contrast to the merely ideal intuiting activity which opposes it) now
simply represents the real, the concept precedes it, and only to that ex­
tent is it an act.
These explanations having been given, the question might yet
arise, as to how the intelligence as such can be intuitant, after we
have asserted that producing is concluded for it within the sphere of
theoretical philosophy. Our answer is that producing was concluded
only insofar as it was subjective; the intelligence, insofar as it is objec­
tive, can never be anything other than it is, namely subject and object
at once, that is, productive; only now the producing will have to come
about within the confines of the ideal activity which stands opposed to
the producing activity—a thing that till now, however, we have not yet
derived.
But in order to align ourselves with ordinary consciousness, we
continue to ask, how then do we arrive at maintaining this objective
which acts to be free, when according to our deduction it is a wholly
blind activity? It comes about entirely through the same illusion
whereby the objective world also becomes objective for us. For that
this act itself belongs only to the objective world (and thus also has the
[570-71] Matter as Organ of Free Activity 185

same reality as the latter), follows from the fact that it only becomes an
act through the process of becoming objective. From this point, indeed,
a new light can in fact be cast backward upon theoretical idealism. If
the objective world is a mere appearance, so too is the objective element
in our acting, and conversely, only if the world has reality, does the ob­
jective element in action also possess reality. It is therefore one and
the same reality which we perceive in the objective world, and in our
action upon the world of the senses. This conjoint status, and indeed
mutual conditioning of objective action and the world*s reality, outside
and through each other, is a consequence wholly peculiar to transcen­
dental idealism, and unattainable through any other system.
So now how far, in fact, is the self active in the external world?
It acts only in virtue of that identity of being and appearance which is
already expressed in self-consciousness. —The self exists only in that it
appears to itself; its knowing is a form of being. The proposition I = I
says nothing else but that I, who know^ am the same who amt my
knowing and my being mutually exhaust each other, the subject of con­
sciousness and the subject of activity are one. In consequence of this
identity, therefore, my knowing and free action are also identical with
free action as such; in other words, the proposition *1 intuit myself as
acting objectively* = the proposition *1 am objectively active*.

II
Now if what appears as an action, as has just been derived and demon­
strated, is in itself an intuition merely, it follows that all action must
be constantly confined by the laws of intuition, that nothing that is im­
possible according to natural laws can be intuited as coming about
through free action. And this is a new proof of the identity in question.
But now a transition from the subjective into the objective, such as
actually takes place, for appearance at least, is itself a contradiction of
natural laws. That which is to be intuited as operating upon the real,
must itself appear as real. Hence I cannot intuit myself as operating
upon the object immediately, but only as doing so by means of matter,
though in that I act I must intuit this latter as identical with myselfl
Matter, as the immediate organ of free, outwardly directed activity, is
the organic body, which must therefore appear as free and apparently
capable of voluntary movements. That drive which has causality in
my action must appear objectively as a natural inclination, which
even without any freedom would operate and bring forth for
186 System of Transcendental Idealism [571-72]

itself what it appears to bring forth through freedom. But in order to

be able to intuit this drive as a natural inclination, I must appear to
myself objectively as driven to all my acts by a compulsion of my or­
ganic constitution (by pain, in its commonest acceptation); and in or­
der to be objective, all action must be connected, no matter how many
the links, with a physical compulsion, which itself is necessary as a
condition of the appearance of freedom.
Moreover, the intended change in the external world only comes
about in face of the constant resistance of objects, and hence as a suc­
cession. If the change be termed D, this will be conditioned by a
change C, which is its cause, and this in turn by B, and so on; this
whole series of changes must therefore take place first, before the final
change, D, can ensue. The complete result can only make its appear*
ance at the moment in which all its conditions in the external world
are given; otherwise there is a contradiction of natural laws. Anything
whose conditions simply cannot be given in nature, must be absolutely
impossible. But now if freedom, in order to be objective, must be ex­
actly like intuition, and wholly subjected to its laws, the very condi­
tions under which freedom is able to appear again do away with free­
dom itself; by the fact that freedom in its manifestations is a natural
phenomenon, it also becomes explicable through natural laws, and in
virtue of that very fact it is, qua freedom, abolished.
The task set forth above, of showing how willing itself again be­
comes objective, and becomes so as willing, to the self, is therefore not
resolved by the foregoing, for by the very fact that it becomes objective,
it ceases to be a willing. There will thus be no appearance whatever of
absolute freedom (in absolute willing), unless there be some other ap­
pearance than this purely objective one, which is nothing other than a
natural inclination.
The reason for our having become involved in this contradiction
is simply that till now we have reflected solely on the objective, out­
ward-going element in willing; and since, as we now know, this latter
is originally only an intuition, and thus objectively no willing at all, it
passes over without any further mediation into the external world.
But now if we proceed to ask how the whole of willing (not just this ob­
jective activity, at once ideal and real, which is included therein, and
which our foregoing deductions show to be incapable of freedom, but
also the ideal activity opposed thereto), is able to become an object to
the self, we are thereby required to find an appearance in which both
of these emerge as opposed.
But now since it is itself again an intuitant
[572-73] Pure Self-determination as Demand 187

activity, the activity that is the objective element in willing is neces­

sarily directed upon something external. The subjective factor in will­
ing, however (the purely ideal activity), has as its immediate object
that precise activity, at once ideal and real, which for that very reason
is the objective factor in willing itself, and is therefore directed, not
upon anything external, but simply upon that objective element incor­
porated in willing as such.
The ideal activity involved in willing will thus be able to become
objective to the self only as the activity directed upon the objective ele­
ment in willing per se, while this objective element itself will be
objectifiable only as an externally directed affair, distinct from willing.
Now the objective activity in willing per s% that is, purely re­
garded (and only so is it objective to the ideal activity), is nothing else
but self-determination in general. The object of the ideal activity in
willing is therefore nothing else but pure self-determining itself、or the
self itself. The ideal activity involved in willing will thus become ob­
jective to the self by being objectified thereto as an activity directed
merely upon pure self-determining as such; the objective activity, in
contrast, will become an object only by being objectified to the self as
an activity directed upon something external, and blindly directed at
that (since only to that extent is it an intuitant activity).
So in order to discover that appearance, whereby the whole of
willing becomes an object to the self, we must
1. reflect upon that activity solely directed upon pure self-deter­
mining as such, and ask how such an activity could become an object
to the self.
Pure self-determining as such (abstracted from everything con­
tingent), which first comes about through the direction of that
intuitant, and here objective, activity upon something external to it, is,
as already stated, nothing else but the pure self itself, and is thus the
common foundation upon which all intelligences are as it were sup­
ported, the one intrinsic element which they all have in common with
each other. In that original and absolute act of will which we have
postulated as the condition of all consciousness, pure self-determining
thus becomes an immediate object to the self, nor is there anything
more contained in this act. But now if this original act of will is itself
an absolutely free one, still less by far can there be any theoretical de­
duction (as necessary) of the act whereby that first act again becomes
an object to the self, or by means of which the latter again becomes
aware of this activity directed upon pure self-determining. For it, like­
wise, is a condition of the continuance of consciousness.
188 System of Transcendental Idealism [573-75]

Thus this objectifying of the ideal activity can be accounted for only as
the result of a demand. The ideal activity, directed solely upon pure
self-determining, must become an object to the self through a demand,
which demand, indeed, can be no other than this: the self shall will
nothing else put pure self-determining itself, fbr by this demand the
pure activity, directed solely upon self-determining as such, is held be­
fore it as an object. This demand, however, is itself nothing other than
the categorical imperative, or moral law, which Kant expresses as fol­
lows: thou shalt will only what all intelligences are able to will. But
that which all intelligences are able to will is simply pure self-deter­
mining itself pure conformity to law. Through the moral law, there­
fore, pure self-determining (the purely objective element in all willing,
insofar as it is simply objective, i.e., not itself again intuitant, or di­
rected upon anything external or empirical) becomes an object to the
sel£ Only to that extent, too, is the moral law a topic of transcenden­
tal philosophy, for even the moral law is merely deduced as a condition
of self-consciousness. This law originally applies to me, not insofar as
I am this particular intelligence, for indeed it strikes down everything
that belongs to individuality and completely destroys it; it applies to
me, rather, as an intelligence in general, to that which has as its im­
mediate object the purely objective, the eternal in me; not, however, to
this objective element itself, insofar as it is directed to a contingent
distinct from and independent of the self, and on that very account the
moral law is also the sole condition under which the intelligence be­
comes aware of its own consciousness.
2. Reflection must now address itself to the objective activity,
directed upon something external, lying outside the compass of willing
itself, and enquire how this becomes an object to the sel£
This question, however, has already been largely answered in
what has preceded, and so here we can merely attempt to set forth the
answer in a new perspective.
The objective activity, directed upon something distinct from
willing and present outside it, is to be opposed in consciousness to that
ideal activity which is directed upon that selfsame objective activity,
simply as such and insofar as it is a pure self-determining.
But now this ideal activity could become an object to the self
only by means of a demand. So if the opposition is to be perfect, the
objective activity must become objective by itself〉without a de­
mand, and its becoming objective must be presupposed. That
whereby it becomes objective to the self as an activity directed
upon something external, to which it is related
[575-76] Natural Inclination and Happiness 189

exactly as the ideal activity is related to it, must therefore be some­

thing necessitated, and since this can still be only an activity, it must
be a mere natural inclination^ such as we deduced in the preceding
section (I); an inclination which works, like productive intuition, en­
tirely blindly, and is itself no willing at all, but only becomes such by
contrast with the pure willing, directed solely upon self-determining as
such. This urge, since through it I become conscious of myself solely as
an individual, is that which is called in moral theory self-interest; and
its object is what we call happiness in the widest sense.
There is no command, no imperative, of happiness. It is sense­
less to suppose one, for that which happens of itself, i.e*, according to a
natural law, is in no need of being commanded. This inclination to
happiness (as we call it for brevity, the further development of this
concept being the concern of moral theory) is nothing else but the ob­
jective activity, directed to something independent of willing, and
again become objective to the self; an urge which is therefore as neces­
sary as the consciousness of freedom itself.
Thus the activity, whose immediate object is pure self-determin­
ing itself, cannot come to consciousness save in contrast to an activity
whose object is something external, to which it is quite blindly di­
rected. As necessarily, therefore, as there is a consciousness of willing,
a contrast must exist between what is demanded by the activity which
becomes an object through the moral law, and is directed solely to self-
determining as such, and what is demanded by the natural inclina­
tion. This opposition must be real, that is, both actions—that which is
commanded by the pure will become an object to itself, and that which
is called for by the natural inclination—must present themselves in
consciousness as equally possible. By the laws of nature, therefore, no
action could be forthcoming, for they each cancel out the other. So if
an action results, and it does so as surely as consciousness persists,
this action cannot result from natural law, that is, necessarily, and
hence is due solely to free self-determination; it results, that is, from
an activity of the self which, in that it wavers in the middle between
what we have so far called the subjective and the objective, and deter­
mines the one by the other, or the other by the one, without itself be­
ing again determined, brings forth the conditions under which, as soon
as they are given, the action, which is always merely the determined,
results entirely blindly and seemingly of itself.
This opposition of equally possible actions in consciousness
is therefore the condition under which
190 System of Transcendental Idealism [576-77]

alone the absolute act of will can again become an object to the self it­
self But now this opposition is precisely what turns the absolute will
into choice, so that choice is the appearance we were seeking of the ab­
solute will—not the original willing itself, but the absolute act of free­
dom become objectified, with which all consciousness begins.
That a freedom of the will exists is something the ordinary
consciousness can be persuaded of only through the act of choice, that
is, by the fact that in every willing we are aware of a choice between
opposites. But now it is argued that choice is not the absolute will it­
self, for this, as demonstrated earlier, is directed only to pure self-de­
termining as such; it is, rather, the appearance of the absolute will.
So if freedom = choice, then freedom too is not the absolute will itself
but merely the appearance thereof. Thus of the will absolutely re­
garded it cannot be said that it is either free or not free, since the ab­
solute cannot be thought of as acting from a law that was not already
prescribed to it by the inner necessity of its own nature. Since, in the
absolute act of will, the self has as its object only self-determining as
such, no deviation from this is possible for the will in its absolute
sense; if it can be called free at all, it is thus absolutely free, since that
which is a command for the will that appears is, for the absolute will,
a law that proceeds from the necessity of its own nature. But if the
absolute is to appear to itself, it must figure to itself as dependent in
its objective upon something else, something alien to it. This depen­
dence, however, does not belong to the absolute itself, but merely to its
appearance. This alien factor, on which the absolute will is dependent
for purposes of appearance, is the natural inclination, in contrast to
which alone the law of the pure will is transformed into an imperative.
In its absolute sense, however, the will has originally no other object
save pure self-determining, that is, itself. So nor can there be any obli­
gation or law for it, demanding that it be an object to itself. Hence the
moral law, and freedom, insofar as it consists in choice, are themselves
merely conditions for the appearance of that absolute will, which is
constitutive of all consciousness, and to that extent also a condition of
the consciousness that becomes an object to itself
Now by this result, without actually meaning to, we have
simultaneously resolved that notable problem which, so far from
having been settled, has so far scarcely been properly understood —I
mean the problem of transcendental freedom. In this problem it is
not a question whether the self is absolute, but whether, insofar as
it is not absolute, insofar as it is empirical, the
[577-78] Absolute and Empirical Freewill 191

self is free. But now it appears indeed from our solution, that just pre­
cisely insofar as the will is empiricalt or appears, so to that extent it
can be called free in the transcendental sense. For insofar as it is ab­
solute, the will itself transcends freedom, and so far from being sub­
jected to any law, is in fact the source of all law. But insofar as the ab­
solute will appears, it can only do so, in order to appear as absolute, in
the form of choice. This phenomenon of choice can therefore no longer
be explained objectively, for it is not anything objective, having reality
per se, but is rather the absolute subjective, the intuition of the abso­
lute will itself, whereby the latter becomes, ad infinitum^ an object to
itself But this very appearance of the absolute will is in fact true free­
dom, or what is commonly understood by the term freedom. Now
since, in free action, the self intuits itself ad infinitum as absolute will
and in its highest power is itself nothing else but this intuition of the
absolute will, the aforementioned appearance of choice is likewise as
certain and indubitable as the self itself. ―Conversely, also, the phe­
nomenon of choice can be thought of only as an absolute will, though a
will that appears under the confines of finitude, and is thus an ever­
recurring revelation of the absolute will within us. It should be noted,
however, that if we had sought to infer backwards from the phenom­
enon of choice to that which lies at the root of it, we should assuredly
have had difficulty in ever hitting upon the correct explanation of it,
though Kant, in his Doctrine of Law, has at least pointed to the con­
trast between the absolute will and the faculty of choice, even if he
does not yet give the true relationship of the one to the other. And
this, then, is a new proof of the superiority of a method which presup­
poses no phenomenon as given, but first becomes acquainted with each
of them through its grounds, as though it were totally unknown.
And now by this we also resolve all the doubts which could be
drawn, say, from the common assumption that the will is free, con­
cerning the claim put forward earlier, that the objective self which
appears to engage in action is in itself merely intuitant. For it is not
that merely objective self, operating quite mechanically in both action
and intuition, and in all free action the determinate^ to which the
predicate of freedom is ascribed; it is rather that self which wavers
between subjective and objective factors of willing, determining one
by the other—viz. the self-determinant of the second order■―to which
alone freedom is and can be attributed, in that the objective self,
which in regard to freedom is merely the determined, still continues,
in and for itself or regardless of the determinant, to remain
192 System of Transcendental Idealism [578-80]

what it was before, namely a mere intuiting. Thus if I reflect merely

upon the objective activity as such, the self contains only natural ne­
cessity; if I reflect merely upon the subjective activity, it contains only
an absolute willing which by nature has no other object save self-de­
termining as such; if I reflect finally upon the activity determinant at
once of both subjective and objective, and transcending them both, the
self contains choice, and therewith freedom of the will. From these dif­
ferent lines of reflection arise the various systems concerning freedom,
of which the first absolutely denies freedom; the second posits it sim­
ply in pure reasont i.e., in that ideal activity directed immediately to
self-determining (by which assumption we are compelled, in all actions
determined contrary to reason, to postulate an utterly groundless qui­
escence of the latter, whereby, however, all freedom of the will is actu­
ally done away with); the third view, on the other hand, deduces an
activity, extending beyond both the ideal and the objective, as that
alone to which freedom can belong.
Nor, indeed, for this absolutely determining self, is there any
predetermination, since this applies only to the intuiting, objective
sel£ The fact that for the latter all action, insofar as it passes over
into the external world, is predetermined, can no more prejudice the
absolutely determinant self, superior as it is to all appearances, than
does the fact that everything in nature is predetermined; for in rela­
tion to the free self the objective self is a mere appearance* having no
reality in itself and like nature is merely the external basis of its ac­
tion. For from the fact that an action is predetermined for appear­
ance, or for the purely intuitant activity, I cannot infer back to its also
being so for the free activity, since the two are wholly unequal in dig­
nity; so that while the merely apparent is certainly quite independent
of the determinant which does not appear, the latter is equally inde­
pendent of the former, and each acts and proceeds on its own account,
the one from free choice, the other, having once been so determined,
entirely in accordance with its own peculiar laws; and this mutual
independence of each from the other, despite their consiliencev is in
fact rendered possible only through a preestablished harmony. Here,
therefore, is the point of first entry of the predetermined harmony we
earlier deduced between the freely determinant and the intuitant, in
that each of them is so separated from the other, that no reciprocal in­
fluence of one on the other would be possible at all, unless a confor­
mity between them were set up by something lying outside them both.
But what this third thing may be, we have absolutely no means
[580-81] Agent and Object 193

of explaining at present, and must be content to have given merely a

preliminary indication and presentation of this point, the most el­
evated of our whole enquiiy, and to await its further elucidation by
the investigations that are to follow.
We shall merely observe, that if there is even a predetermina­
tion for the freely determinant, such as we have certainly maintained
in the foregoing, insofar as we have required an original negation of
freedom as necessary for individuality, and indirectly for the interac­
tion between intelligences, this predetermination is itself actually
thinkable in turn only through an original act of freedom, which ad­
mittedly does not attain to consciousness, and concerning which we
must refer the reader to Kant*s enquiries into original evil.
If we may now review once more the entire course of the forego­
ing investigation, we first of all attempted to explain the prior assump­
tion of ordinary consciousness, which, standing at the lowest level of
abstraction, distinguishes the object acted upon from that which acts
or operates upon it; whereby the question arose, as to how the object
could be determined by that which acts on it? Our answer was: the
object acted upon and the action itself are one, in that both are merely
an intuiting. This yielded the conclusion that in willing we have but
one determinate^ namely the intuitant, which is simuItaneously the
agent. This objective agent and the external world do not therefore
exist originally in independence of each other, and what is posited in
the one is ipso facto also posited in the other. But now this merely ob­
jective stood confronted in consciousness with a subjective, which be­
comes objectified to the self through an absolute requirement, in that
this purely objective was objectified to the self through an outward
tendency wholly independent of the same. There was thus no action
whereby the whole of willing could become an object to the self, with­
out a self-determinant, which, elevated above both subjective and ob­
jective alike, was first able to drive us to the question: how, then, by
this absolute determinant extending beyond everything objective,
could the objective or intuitant nevertheless be determined?

Additional Remarks

But before we can set ourselves to answering this question, another

stands in our path, namely this: in whatever way the self determines
itself, whether through the subjective determining the objective or
vice versat the outward-going activity (the inclination) is in any
case the sole vehicle whereby anything can make its way from the
self into the external world;
194 System of Transcendental Idealism [581-82]

and thus even by self-determination the inclination cannot be abol­

ished. The question, then, is this: in what relation does the moral law
put this outgoing drive vis-a-vis the ideal activity directed solely to
pure self-determination?
We can furnish only the main points of our answer to this ques­
tion, since here in fact it arises merely as a link in the chain of en­
quiry. —Assuredly the pure will cannot become an object to the self
without at the same time having an external object. But now, as we
have just demonstrated, this external object actually has no reality per
se> being simply a medium for the appearance of the pure will, and
meant to be nothing else but the expression of that will for the exter­
nal world. Thus the pure will cannot become an object to itself without
identifying the external world with itself. But now when analysed
precisely, the concept of happiness contains no other thought than
that ofjust such an identity between what is independent of willing
and the willing itself. Thus happiness, the object of natural inclina­
tion, must be merely the appearance of the pure will, that is, be one
and the same object as the pure will itself. The two must be absolutely
one (so that no synthetic relation is possible between them, such as
that between conditioning and conditioned), while yet in such a way
that they simply cannot exist independently of each other. If happi­
ness is taken to mean something that is possible even independently of
the pure will, then there can be absolutely no such thing. If, however,
happiness is merely the identity of the external world with the pure
will, then they are both one and the same object, only seen from differ­
ent sides. But just as little as happiness can be anything independent
of the pure will, so equally is it unthinkable that a finite being should
strive after a purely formal morality, since morality itself, for such a
being, can become objective only through the external world. The im­
mediate object of all striving is not the pure will, still less happiness,
but rather the external object as expression of the pure will. This ab­
solute identical pure will, which is sovereign in the external world, is
the sole and supreme good.
Now although nature does not behave with absolute passivity in
regard to action, it still cannot offer any absolute resistance to the ex­
ecution of the supreme purpose. Nature cannot act in the proper
sense of the word. But rational beings can act, and an interaction be­
tween such beings through the medium of the objective world is actu­
ally the condition of freedom. Now whether or not all rational beings
restrict their action by the possibility of free action on the part of all
others, is something which depends upon an absolute contingency,
[582-83] Self-Interest and the Rule of Law 195

namely choice. This cannot be the case. The holiest ought not to be
entrusted to chance. It must be made impossible, through the con­
straint of an unbreakable law, that in the interaction of all the free­
dom of the individual should be abolished. Now this constraint can­
not, to be sure, be directed immediately against freedom, since no ra­
tional being can be constrained, but only determined to constrain him­
self; nor can this constraint be directed against the pure will, which
has no other object save what is common to all rational beings, namely
self>determining as such; it can be directed only against the self-inter­
ested drive emanating from the individual and returning back to him
again. But against this drive there is nothing which can be used as a
sanction or a weapon except itself. The external world would have, as
it were, to be so organized that it compels this drive, in that it over­
steps its boundaries, to act against itself, and opposes to it something
on which the free being can exert his will, insofar, that is, as he is a
rational being, though not insofar as he is a natural one; whereby the
agent is thrown into contradiction with himself, and at least made
mindful of the fact that he is divided within himself.
In and for itself the objective world cannot contain the ground
of such a contradiction within itself, for it behaves with complete indif­
ference toward the operations of free beings as such; the ground of this
contradiction of the self-interested drive can therefore be lodged in it
only by the rational being.
A second and higher nature must, as it were, be set up over the
first, governed by a natural law quite different, however, from that
which prevails in visible nature, namely a natural law on behalf of
freedom. As inexorably, and with the same iron necessity whereby ef­
fect follows cause in sensible nature, an attack upon the freedom of an­
other must be succeeded, in this second nature, by an instantaneous
counter to the self-interested drive. A law of nature such as that just
depicted is to be found in the rule of law, and the second nature in
which its authority prevails is the legal system, which is thereby de­
duced as a condition of the continuance of consciousness.
It will be evident from this deduction that law is no branch
of morality, nor in any sense a practical science, but rather a
purely theoretical one, which stands to freedom precisely as
mechanics does to motion, in that it merely sets forth the natural
mechanism under which free beings as such can be thought of as
interacting; a mechanism, indeed, which can undoubtedly itself be
set up only through freedom, and to which nature contributes
nothing. For nature, as the poet says, is
196 System of Transcendental Idealism [583-85]

without feeling, and God, as the gospel tells us, permits His sun to
shine on the just and the unjust alike. From the very fact, however,
that the legal system has to be considered merely as a supplement to
visible nature, it follows that the legal order is not a moral one, but a
purely natural order, which freedom has no more power over than it
has over sensible nature. It is no wonder, therefore, that all attempts
to transform it into a moral order present themselves as detestable
through their own perversity, and through that most dreadful kind of
despotism which is their immediate consequence. For although the le­
gal system performs the same office, materially speaking, that we ex­
pect, in fact, from Providence, and is altogether the best theodicy that
man is able to contrive, it still does not do this in form, or does not do
it qua Providence, that is, with judgment and forethought. It has to be
viewed as a machine primed in advance for certain possibilities, and
operating automatically, ie, entirely blindly, as soon as these cases
are presented; and although this machine is constructed and primed
by the hands of men, it is obliged, once the hand of the artificer is
withdrawn, to operate like visible nature according to its own laws,
and independently, as though it existed on its own. Thus, while a le­
gal system becomes the more deserving of respect to the extent that it
approximates to an order of nature, a regime governed, not by law but
by the will of the judge and by a despotism which operates the law as a
providence looking into the heart of things, in that it constantly inter­
feres with the natural course of the legal process, presents the most
unworthy and revolting spectacle that can exist for anyone imbued
with feeling for the holiness of the law.
But now if the legal system is a necessary condition for the free­
dom existing in the external world, it is undoubtedly an important
question, how such a freedom can be thought of even as existing, since
the will of the individual can do absolutely nothing in this regard, and
presupposes as its necessary supplement something independent of it,
namely the will of everyone else.
It is to be supposed that even the first emergence of a legal
order was not left to chance, but rather to a natural compulsion
which, occasioned by the general resort to force, drove men to bring
such an order into being without their own knowledge of the fact,
and in such a way that its earliest workings affected them unawares.
But now it is also easy to see that an order brought about by need
could have no inherent stability, partly because what is fashioned
out of need is also devised only for immediate requirements, and
partly because the mechanism of such a system directs its
[585-86] Emergence of Legal Order 197

sanctions against free beings, who will only allow themselves to be

compelled so long as they find advantage therein. Since in matters of
freedom there is no a priorit the unification of such beings under a
common mechanism is one of those problems which can be solved only
through innumerable attempts; especially since the mechanism
whereby the system itself is again set in motion, the link between the
idea of the system and its actual execution, is entirely different from
the system itself, and must undergo quite different modifications, de­
pending upon differences in degree of culture, in national character,
and so forth. It is therefore to be presumed that at first purely tempo­
rary systems arose, all canying the seeds of their downfall within
them, and because they were originally set up, not through reason but
through pressure of circumstances, would sooner or later dissolve. For
it is natural that under force of circumstances a people should give up
many rights which it cannot alienate forever, and which it sooner or
later reclaims; at which point the collapse of the system is inevitable,
and all the more certain, the more perfect it happens to be in a formal
sense, since if this is so, the powers that be will certainly not restore
these rights of their own free will, since this would already indicate an
internal weakness of the system itself.
But suppose, now, however it happens, that there eventually
comes into existence a system truly legal, and not based merely on op­
pression, as is necessary at the outset; experience, which indeed will
forever be inadequate not only to prove a universal principle but even
to provide strong evidence, still shows nonetheless that the very sub­
sistence of such a regime, which for the individual state is the most
perfect possible, is made to depend on the most palpable chance.
Suppose that, on the model of nature, which establishes nothing
self-subsistent, or any inherently stable system, which is not based
upon three mutually independent forces, the legality of the regime is
founded upon the separation of the three basic powers of the state as
independent of each other; even so, the very objections which can
legitimately be made to this separation, though it cannot be denied
to be necessary for a legal system, demonstrate an imperfection in
this arrangement, which cannot, indeed lie within the system itself,
but must be sought outside it. The security of each individual state
against the rest makes absolutely inevitable a most decided
preponderance of the executive power over the others, and
particularly over the legislative, the retarding force of the state
machine; and hence the subsistence of the whole will still ultimately
rest, not on the jealousy of the opposing powers, that
198 System of Transcendental Idealism [586-87]

most superficially conceived of safety devices, but solely on the good

will of those who hold supreme power in their hands. But now noth­
ing appertaining to the defense and protection of the law should de­
pend on chance. Yet to render the subsistence of such a regime inde­
pendent of good will would again be possible only through a sanction,
whose ground, however, can obviously not lie in the regime itself; for
to achieve that, a fourth power would be necessary, to which either the
sovereignty is entrusted, in which case it is itself the executive power,
or which is otherwise left impotent, in which case its operation de­
pends on mere chance, and at very best, namely when the people side
with it, there is no avoiding the insurrection which ought, in a good
constitution, to be no more possible than it is in a machine.
No assured existence is therefore thinkable even for a single re­
gime merely, however perfectly conceived, without an organization ex­
tending beyond the individual state; a federation of all states, who mu­
tually guarantee their respective regimes, though such general
reciprocal guarantees are again impossible until firstly, the principles
of a true legal system are generally diffused, so that individual states
have but one interest, namely to preserve the constitutions of all; and
until secondly, these states have again submitted to a single commu­
nal law, just as was formerly done by individuals in forming each par­
ticular state. By so doing, the individual states can in turn belong to a
state of states, and the mutual quarrels of peoples be referred to an
international tribunal, composed of members of all civilized nations,
and having at its command against each rebellious state-individual the
power of all the rest.
Now how such a universal constitution, extending even over in­
dividual states, and enabling them to emerge from the state of nature
in which they previously stood to each other, is to be realized through
freedom, which plays its boldest and least inhibited game in this mu­
tual relation between states, is a thing entirely beyond comprehension,
unless this play of freedom, whose entire course is the history of man­
kind, is again governed by a blind necessity, which objectively appends
to freedom what would never have been possible through the latter
alone.
And thus, in the course of our discussion, we find ourselves
driven back to the question posed above, as to the ground of identity
between freedom, on the one hand, insofar as it expresses itself in
choice, and that which is objective or law-abiding on the other; a ques­
tion which from now on acquires a far higher significance, and must
be answered in its most universal form.
[587-88] Concept of History 199

III
The emergence of the universal constitution cannot be consigned to
mere chance, and is accordingly to be anticipated only from the free
play of forces that we discern in history. The question arises, there­
fore, as to whether a series of circumstances without plan or purpose
can deserve the name of history at all, and whether in the mere con­
cept of history there is not already contained also the concept of a ne­
cessity which choice itself is compelled to serve.
Here it is primarily a question of our ascertaining the concept of
history.
Not everything that happens is on that account an object of his­
tory; natural circumstances, for example, owe their historical charac­
ter, if they attain it, merely to the influence which they have had upon
human actions; still less by far, however, do we regard as a historical
object that which takes place according to a known rule, periodically
recurs, or is in general a consequence that can be calculated a priori.
If we wanted to speak of a history of nature in the true sense of the
word, we should have to picture nature as though, apparently free in
its productions, it had gradually brought forth the whole multiplicity
thereof through constant departures from a primordial original; which
would then be a history, not of natural objects (which is properly the
description of nature), but of generative nature itself. Now how would
we view nature in a history of this sort? We would view her, so to
speak, as ordering and managing in various ways with one and the
same sum or proportion offerees, which she could never exceed; we
should thus regard her, to be sure, as acting freely in this creation,
but not on that account as working in utter lawlessness. Nature
would thus become an object of history, on the one hand, through the
appearance of freedom in her productions, since in fact we would be
unable to determine a priori the directions of her productive activity,
although there would be no doubt at all that these directions had their
specific law; but she would also be an object, on the other hand,
through the confinement and conformity to law inherent in her, owing
to the proportion of the forces at her command; whence it is therefore
apparent that history comes about neither with absolute lawfulness
nor with absolute freedom either, but exists only where a single ideal
is realized under an infinity of deviations, in such a way that, not the
particular detail indeed, but assuredly the whole, is in conformity
thereto.
But now such a successive realizing of an ideal, where only
the progress as a whole, as it might be
200 System of Transcendental Idealism [588-90]

seen by an intellectual intuition, does justice to the ideal, can more­

over be thought of as possible only through such beings as have the
character of a species; for the individual, in fact, precisely because he
is so, is incapable of attaining to the ideal, though the latter, which is
necessarily determinate, has still got to be realized. We therefore see
ourselves led on to a new feature of history, namely that there can
only be a history of such beings as have an ideal before them, which
can never be carried out by the individual, but only by the species.
And for this it is needful that every succeeding individual should start
in at the very point where the preceding one left off, and thus that
continuity should be possible between succeeding individuals, and, if
that which is to be realized in the progress of history is something at­
tainable only through reason and freedom, that there should also be
the possibility of tradition and transmission.
But now from the foregoing deduction of the concept of history it
is self-evident that an absolutely lawless series of events is no more
entitled to the name of history than an absolutely law-abiding one;
whence it is apparent:
a) that the idea of progress implicit in all history permits no con­
formity to law such as would limit free activity to a determinate and
constantly recursive succession of acts;
b) that nothing whatever can be an object of history which pro­
ceeds according to a determinate mechanism, or whose theory is a
priori. Theory and history are totally opposed. Man has a history
only because what he will do is incapable of being calculated in ad­
vance according to any theory. Choice is to that extent the goddess of
history. Mythology has history begin with the first step out of the do­
main of instinct into the realm of freedom, with the loss of the Golden
Age, or with the Fall, that is, with the first expression of choice. In the
schemes of the philosophers, history ends with the reign of reason,
that is, with the Golden Age of law, when all choice shall have van­
ished from the earth, and man shall have returned through freedom to
the same point at which nature originally placed him, and which he
forsook when history began;
c) that neither absolute lawlessness, nor a series of events with­
out aim or purpose, deserve the name of history, and that its true na­
ture is constituted only by freedom and lawfulness in conjunction, or
by the gradual realization, on the part of a whole species of beings, of
an ideal that they have never wholly lost.
After this derivation, now completed, of the main
characteristics of history, we must now enquire more closely into
the transcendental possibility thereof;
[590-91] Individual Consciousness 201

and this will lead us to a philosophy of history，which latter is for the

practical part of philosophy precisely what nature is for the theoretical
part.

A
The first question which can justifiably be asked of a philosophy of his­
tory is, no doubt, how a history is conceivable at all, since if everything
that exists is posited for each of us only through his own conscious­
ness, the whole of past history can likewise be posited for each through
his consciousness alone. Now we do in fact also maintain that no indi­
vidual consciousness could be posited, with all the determinations it is
posited with, and which necessarily belong to it, unless the whole of
history had gone before; and if we needed to do the trick, this could
very easily be shown by means of examples. Thus past history admit­
tedly belongs merely to appearance, just as does the individuality of
consciousness itself; it is therefore no more, but also no less real for
each of us than his own individuality is. This particular individuality
presupposes this particular period, of such and such a character, such
and such a degree of culture, etc.; but such a period is impossible with­
out the whole of past history. Historiography, which otherwise has no
object save that of explaining the present state of the world, could thus
equally set out from the current situation and infer to past history,
and it would be no uninteresting endeavor to see how the whole of the
past could be derived from this in a strictly necessary manner.
Now it might be objected to this account that past history is not
posited with each individual consciousness, nor is the whole of the
past posited with any, but only the main happenings thereof, which
are indeed recognizable as such only through the fact that they have
extended their influence up to the present time, and so far as the indi­
viduality of each single person; but to this we reply, in the first place,
that a history exists only for those upon whom the past has operated,
and even for these, only to the extent that it has worked upon them;
and secondly, that all that has ever been in history is also truly con*
nected, or will be, with the individual consciousness of each, not
immediately, maybe, but certainly by means of innumerable linkages,
of such a kind that if one could point them out it would also become
obvious that the whole of the past was necessary in order to put this
consciousness together. But now it is admittedly certain that, just
as the great majority of men in every age have never had any exist­
ence in the world wherein history properly belongs, so also is this
true of a multitude of happenings. For just as
202 System of Transcendental Idealism [591-92]

it is insufficient, for the remembrance of posterity, to have perpetuated

oneself merely as a physical cause by means of physical effects, so like­
wise it is not enough to deserve even a place in history that one is a
mere intellectual product or mere intermediary, whereby, as a mere
medium, without having oneself been the cause of a new future, the
culture acquired by the past is transmitted to later generations. Thus
assuredly, with the consciousness of each individual, only so much is
posited as has so far continued to exert an effect; but then this in turn
is also the only thing that belongs in history and has existed therein.
But now so far as the transcendental necessity of history is con­
cerned, it has already been deduced in the foregoing from the fact that
the universal reign of law has been set before rational beings as a
problem, realizable only by the species as a whole, that ist only by way
of history. We content ourselves here, therefore, with merely drawing
the conclusion, that the sole true object of the historian can only be the
gradual emergence of a political world order, for this, indeed, is the
sole ground for a history. All other history which is not universal can
only be set forth pragmatically, that is, according to the notion already
vouchsafed to the ancients, as being directed toward a particular em­
pirical goal. Whereas, conversely, a pragmatic universal history is a
self-contradictory conception. Everything else, however, which is
otherwise commonly included in the writing of history, the progress of
the arts and sciences etc., properly does not belong in history at all, or
else serves therein merely as a document or a connecting link; because
even discoveries in the arts and sciences, primarily through the fact
that they multiply and enhance the means of mutual injury, and give
rise to a plethora of other evils previously unknown, serve the purpose
of accelerating man's progress toward the setting up of a universal le­
gal order.

B
That the concept of history embodies the notion of an infinite
tendency to progress、has been sufficiently shown above. But it
cannot, indeed, be straightway concluded from this that the human
race is infinitely perfectible. For those who deny it could equally
well maintain that man is no more possessed of a history than the
animal, being confined, on the contrary, to an eternal circuit of ac­
tions, in which, like Ixion upon his wheel, he revolves unceasingly,
and despite continuous oscillations and at times even seeming devia­
tions from the line of curvature, still constantly finds
[592-94] Progress, Freedom and Necessity 203

himself back at the point from which he started. There is all the less
expectation, moreover, of arriving at a sensible answer to this ques­
tion, in that those who purport to resolve it, either for or against, find
themselves in the greatest perplexity as to the standard whereby
progress is to be measured. Some address themselves to the moral ad­
vances of mankind, of which we should certainly be glad to possess the
yardstick; others, to progress in the arts and sciences, although, seen
from the historical (practical) standpoint, this represents a regress, or
at best a movement against the course of history, on which point we
could appeal to history itself, and to the judgment and example of
those nations (such as the Romans), who may be termed classical in
the historical sense. But if the sole object of histoiy is the gradual re­
alization of the rule of law, there remains to us, even as a historical
measure of man's progress, only the gradual approximation to this
goal, whose final attainment, however, can neither be inferred from
experience, so far as it has hitherto unfolded, nor be theoretically dem­
onstrated a priori, but will be only an eternal article of faith to man as
he acts and works.

C
We now pass on, however, to the primary characteristic of history,
namely that it should exhibit a union of freedom and necessity, and be
possible through this union alone.
But now it is just this union of freedom and lawfulness in action
which we have already deduced to be necessary, from an entirely di&
ferent point of view, as following simply from the concept of history it­
self
The universal rule of law is a condition of freedom, since without
it there is no guarantee of the latter. For freedom that is not guaran­
teed by a universal order of nature exists only precariously, and—as in
the majority of our contemporary states—is a plant that flourishes
only parasitically, tolerated in general by way of a necessary inconsis­
tency, but in such wise that the individual is never certain of his free­
dom. That is not how it should be. Freedom should not be a favor
granted, or a good that may be enjoyed only as a forbidden fruit. It
must be guaranteed by an order that is as open and unalterable as
that of nature.
But now this order can in fact be realized only through freedom,
and its establishment is entrusted wholly and solely to freedom.
This is a contradiction. That which is the first condition of outward
freedom is, for that very reason, no less necessary than freedom
itself. And it is likewise to be realized only through
204 System of Transcendental Idealism [594-95]

freedom, that is, its emergence is consigned to chance. How can this
contradiction be reconciled?
The only way of resolving it is that in freedom itself there
should again be necessity; but how, then, can such a resolution be con­
ceived of?
We arrive here at the supreme problem of transcendental phi­
losophy, which has admittedly been set forth above (II), but has not
been resolved.
Freedom is to be necessity, and necessity freedom. But now in
contrast to freedom, necessity is nothing else but the unconscious.
That which exists in me without consciousness is involuntaiy; that
which exists with consciousness is in me through my willing.
To say that necessity is again to be present in freedom,
amounts, therefore, to saying that through freedom itself, and in that
I believe myself to act freely, something I do not intend is to come
about unconsciously, ie, without my consent; or, to put it otherwise,
the conscious, or that freely determining activity which we deduced
earlier on, is to be confronted with an unconscious, whereby out of the
most uninhibited expression of freedom there arises unawares some­
thing wholly involuntary, and perhaps even contrary to the agent's
will, which he himself could never have realized through his willing.
This statement, however paradoxical it may seem, is yet nothing other
than a mere transcendental expression of the generally accepted and
assumed relationship between freedom and a hidden necessity, at
times called fate and at times providence, though neither of these
terms expresses any clear idea; a relationship whereby men through
their own free action, and yet against their will, must become cause of
something which they never wanted, or by which, conversely, some­
thing must go astray or come to naught which they have sought for
freely and with the exertion of all their powers.
Such intervention of a hidden necessity into human freedom is
presupposed, not only, say, in tragedy, whose whole existence rests
on that presumption, but even in normal doing and acting. Without
such a presumption one can will nothing aright; without it, the dispo­
sition to act quite regardless of consequences, as duty eiijoins us, could
never inspire a man's mind. For if no sacrifice is possible without the
conviction that the species we belong to can never cease to progress,
how is this conviction itself possible, if it is wholly and solely based
upon freedom? There must be something here that is higher than hu­
man freedom, and on which alone we can reckon with assurance in
doing and acting; something without which a man could never
venture to undertake an act fraught with major consequences, since
even the most perfect calculation thereof can be so completely
[595-96] Moral Order as Communal Endeavor 205

upset by the incursion of other men's freedom, that an outcome may

result from his action entirely different from what he intended. Duty
itself cannot bid me, once my decision is made, to be wholly at ease
over the consequences of my actions, unless, though my acting surely
depends on me, that is, upon my freedom, the consequences of those
actions, or that which will emerge from them for all mankind, depend
not at all on my freedom, but rather upon something quite different
and of a higher sort.
It is thus a presumption which itself is necessaiy for the sake of
freedom, that though man is admittedly free in regard to the action it­
self, he is nonetheless dependent, in regard to the finite result of his
actions, upon a necessity that stands over him, and itself takes a hand
in the play of his freedom. Now this presumption requires a transcen­
dental explanation. To account for it by providence or fete is not to ex­
plain it at all, for providence or fate are precisely what need to be ex­
plained. We are not in doubt about providence, any more than we are
about what is called fate, for we sense its incursions into our own do­
ings, in the success and failure of our own enterprises. But what,
then, is this fate?
If we reduce our problem to transcendental terms, it amounts to
this: how, when we act quite freely, that is, with consciousness, can
something arise for us unconsciously, which we never intended, and
which freedom, left to itself, could never have brought about?
That which arises for me unintended, arises as the objective
world does; but now by means of my free action, something else objec­
tive, a second nature, the moral order, is also to arise for me. But by
free action nothing objective can arise for me, for everything objective
arises, as such, without consciousness. It would thus be unintelligible
how this second objective order could arise through free action, did not
an unconscious activity stand in contrast to the conscious activity.
But an objective arises for me without consciousness only in in­
tuition, so this proposition says, in effect: the objective in my free act­
ing must in fact be an intuition; by which we thereupon come back to
an earlier principle, which is in part explained already, but in part can
only here for the first time attain to its full clarity.
For here in fact the objective element in acting acquires a
significance quite different from what it has hitherto possessed.
All my actions, in fact, proceed, as to their final goal, toward some­
thing that can be realized, not by the individual alone, but only by
the entire species; at least all my actions ought to proceed
206 System of Transcendental Idealism [596-97]

towards this. The success of my actions is thus dependent not upon

myself, but upon the willing of everyone else, and I can accomplish
nothing toward such a goal unless everyone wills that goal. But this is
assuredly doubtful and uncertain, indeed impossible, since the vast
majority do not even have this goal in mind. How then can we extri­
cate ourselves from this uncertainty? One might here perhaps think
oneself driven immediately toward a moral world-order, and postulate
the latter as a condition of attaining this goal. But how is one to fur­
nish the proof that this moral world-order can be thought of as objec­
tive, as existing in absolute independence of freedom? The moral
world-order, one might say, exists as soon as we establish it, but
where, then, is it established? It is the communal effect of all intelli­
gences, so far, that is, as they all, directly or indirectly, will nothing
else but an order of this very sort. So long as this is not the case, the
order itself has no existence either. Every individual intelligence can
be regarded as a constitutive part of God, or of the moral world-order.
Every rational being can say to himself: I too am entrusted with the
execution of the law, and the practice of righteousness within my
sphere of influence; I too have assigned to me a portion of the moral
government of the world; but what am I, against so many? That order
exists only insofar as all others think as I do, and exercise, each of
them, his divine right to see that righteousness prevails.
Thus either I appeal to a moral world-order, but then cannot
conceive it as absolutely objective; or else I demand something abso­
lutely objective, which shall assure and as it were guarantee, in a
manner wholly independent of freedom, the success of actions in con­
tributing to the highest goal, and then, since the only objective ele­
ment in willing is the unconscious element, I find myself driven to­
ward an unconscious factor, whereby the external success of all ac-
tions has got to be assured.
For only if an unconscious lawfulness again prevails in the arbi­
trary, that is, wholly lawless actions of men, can I conceive of a finite
unification of all actions toward a communal goal. But lawfulness is to
be found only in intuition, and so this lawfulness is not possible unless
that which appears to us as a free action is, objectively or regarded in
itself, an intuition.
But now we are here of course talking, not of the individual's ac­
tion, but of the act of the entire species. This second objective element
which is to arise for us can be realized only by the species, that is, in
history. But history, objectively regarded, is nothing else but a series
of data which appears only subjectively as a series of free actions. The
objective factor in history is thus an intuition indeed, but not
[597-99] Historical Inevitability 207

an intuition of the individual, for it is not the individual who acts in

history, but rather the species; hence the intuitant, or the objective
factor in history, will have to be one for the entire species.
But now although the objective element in all intelligences is the
same, yet every distinct individual acts with absolute freedom, and
thus the actions of different rational beings would not necessarily har­
monize; on the contraiy, the freer the individual, the more contradic­
tion there would be in the whole, unless this objective factor common
to all intelligences were an absolute synthesis, wherein all contradic­
tions were resolved and eliminated beforehand. —From the wholly
lawless play of freedom, in which every free being indulges on his own
behalf, as though there were no other outside him (which must always
be assumed as a rule), something rational and harmonious is still to
emerge eventually, and this I am obliged to presuppose in every ac­
tion. Such a thing is inconceivable unless the objective factor in all
acting is something communal, whereby all the acts of men are guided
to one harmonious goal; and are so guided, that however they may set
about things, and however unbridled the exercise of their choice, they
yet must go where they did not want to, without, and even against,
their own will; and this owing to a necessity hidden from
them .whereby it is determined in advance that by the very lawless­
ness of their act, and the more lawless it is, the more surely, they
bring about a development of the drama which they themselves were
powerless to have in view. But this necessity can itself be thought of
only through an absolute synthesis of all actions, from which there de­
velops everything that happens, and hence also the whole of history;
and in which, because it is absolute, everything is so far weighed and
calculated that everything that may happen, however contradictory
and discordant it may seem, still has and discovers its ground of union
therein. But this absolute synthesis must itself be posited in the abso­
lute, which in all free action is the intuitant, and the eternally and
universally objective.
But now this whole viewpoint still leads us only to a natural
mechanism, whereby the final outcome of all actions is assured, and
by which, without any contribution from freedom, they are all
directed toward the highest goal of the entire species. For the
eternally objective factor—and the only one—for all intelligences
is simply the lawfulness of nature, or of intuition, which in willing
becomes something utterly independent of the intelligence. But
now this unity of the objective for all intelligences serves only to dis­
close to me a predetermination of all history for
208 System of Transcendental Idealism [599-600]

intuition, by means of an absolute synthesis, whose mere development

in a variety of sequences is what constitutes history. It does not tell
me how this objective predetermination of all actions accords with the
freedom of action itself. So this unity also explains to us but one of the
determinations in the concept of history, namely conformity to law,
which, as can now be seen, comes about solely in regard to the objec­
tive factor in acting; (for this does in fact really belong to nature, and
thus must obey law just insofar as it is nature; whence it would also be
wholly useless to wish to derive this objective lawfulness of acting
from freedom, since it generates itself quite mechanically and by itself
so to speak). But this unity does not explain for me the other determi­
nation, namely the coexistence of lawlessness, ie, q( freedomwith
conformity to law. In other words, it leaves us none the wiser as to
how that harmony is effected between this objective element, which
brings forth what it generates through its own lawfulness, in complete
independence of freedom, and the freely determining element.
At the present stage of our reflection there stand confronted—on
the one hand the intelligence in itself (the absolutely objective element
common to all intelligences), and on the other the freely determinant,
absolutely subjective. The intelligence in itself serves to predetermine
once and for all the objective lawfulness of history, but the objective
and the freely determining factors are wholly independent of each
other, and dependent each on itself alone—so how am I to be sure that
objective predetermination and the infinite possibilities open to free­
dom are mutually exhaustive, and that the objective element is thus
really an absolute synthesis for the whole of all free acts? And how, in
that case, since freedom is absolute and can in no wise be determined
by the objective, is there assurance nonetheless of a continuing agree­
ment between the two? If the objective is always the determined, how
then does it come to be precisely so determined that it accords objec­
tively to freedom, which vents itself solely in choice, that which cannot
itself lie therein, namely conformity to law? Such a preestablished
harmony of the objective (or law-governed) and the determinant (or
free) is conceivable only through some higher thing, set over them
both, and which is therefore neither intelligence nor free, but rather is
the common source of the intelligent and likewise of the free.
Now if this higher thing be nothing else but the ground of iden­
tity between the absolutely subjective and the absolutely objective,
the conscious and the unconscious, which part company precisely in
order to appear in the free act, then this higher thing itself
[600-1] The Absolute in History 209

can be neither subject nor object, nor both at once, but only the abso­
lute identity, in which is no duality at all, and which, precisely because
duality is the condition of all consciousness, can never attain thereto.
This eternal unknown, which, like the everlasting sun in the realm of
spirits, conceals itself behind its own unclouded light, and though
never becoming an object, impresses its identity upon all free actions,
is simultaneously the same for all intelligences, the invisible root of
which all intelligences are but powers, and the eternal mediator be­
tween the self-determining subjective within us, and the olyective or
intuitant; at once the ground of lawfulness in freedom, and of freedom
in the lawfulness of the object.
But now it is easy to see that this absolutely identical principle,
which is already divided in the first act of consciousness, and by this
separation generates the entire system of finitude, cannot, in fact,
have any predicates whatever; for it is the absolutely simple, and thus
can have no predicates drawn either from intelligence or free agency,
and hence, too, can never be an object of knowledge, being an object
only that is eternally presupposed in action, that is, an object of belief.
But now if this absolute is the true ground of harmony between
objective and subjective in the free action, not only of the individual,
but of the entire species, we shall be likeliest to find traces of this eter­
nal and unalterable identity in the lawfulness which runs, like the
weaving of an unknown hand, through the free play of choice in his­
tory.
Now if our reflection be directed merely to the unconscious or
objective aspect in all action, we are obliged to suppose all free acts,
and thus the whole of history, to be absolutely predetermined, not by a
conscious foreordaining, but by a wholly blind one, finding expression
in the obscure concept of destiny; and this is the system of fatalism. If
reflection be directed solely to the subjective in its arbitrary determin­
ing, we arrive at a system of absolute lawlessness, the true system of
irreligion and atheism^ namely the claim that in all doing and acting
there is neither law nor necessity anywhere. But if reflection be el­
evated to that absolute which is the common ground of the harmony
between freedom and intelligence, we reach the system of providence,
that is, religion in the only true sense of the word.
But now if this absolute, which can everywhere only reveal it­
self, had actually and fully revealed itself in history, or were ever to do
so, it would at once make an end of the appearance of freedom. This
perfect revelation would come about if free action were to coincide
210 System of Transcendental Idealism [601-3]

completely with predetermination. But if there ever were such a coin­

cidence, if the absolute synthesis, that is, were ever completely
evolved, we should recognize that everything which has come about
through freedom in the course of history, was governed in this whole
by law, and that all actions, although they seemed to be free, were in
fact necessary, precisely in order to bring this whole into being. The
opposition between conscious and unconscious activity is necessarily
an unending one, for were it ever to be done away with, the appear­
ance of freedom, which rests entirely upon it, would be done away
with too. We can therefore conceive of no point in time at which the
absolute synthesis—or to put it in empirical terms, the design of provi­
denceshould have brought its development to completion.
If we think of history as a play in which everyone involved per­
forms his part quite freely and as he pleases, a rational development of
this muddled drama is conceivable only if there be a single spirit who
speaks in everyone, and if the playwright, whose mere fragments
(disjecta membrapoetae) are the individual actors, has already so har­
monized beforehand the objective outcome of the whole with the free
play of every participant, that something rational must indeed emerge
at the end of it. But now if the playwright were to exist independently
of his drama, we should be merely the actors who speak the lines he
has written. If he does not exist independently of us, but reveals and
discloses himself successively only, through the very play of our own
freedom, so that without this freedom even he himself u;ouZJ not 6et
then we are collaborators of the whole and have ourselves invented
the particular roles we play. —The ultimate ground of the harmony
between freedom and the objective (or lawful) can therefore never be­
come wholly objectified, if the appearance of freedom is to remain.—
The absolute acts through each single intelligence, whose action is
thus iise/f absolute, and to that extent neither free nor unfree, but
both at once, absolutely free, and for that very reason also necessary.
But if now the intelligence steps out from the absolute point of view,
that is, out of the universal identity in which nothing can be distin­
guished, and becomes conscious of (distinguishes) itself, which comes
about in that its act becomes objective to it, or passes over into the
objective world, the free and the necessary are then separated therein.
It is free only as an inner appearance, and that is why we are and
believe ourselves to be always inwardly free, although insofar as it
passes into the objective world the appearance of our freedom, or our
freedom itself, falls just as much under laws of nature
[603-4] Three Periods of Revelation 211

as any other occurrence.

Now it can straightway be inferred from the foregoing, which
view of history is the only true one. History as a whole is a progres­
sive, gradually self-disclosing revelation of the absolute. Hence one
can never point out in history the particular places where the mark of
providence, or God Himself, is as it were visible. For God never exists,
if the existent is that which presents itself in the objective world; if He
existed thus, then we should not; but He continually reveals Himself.
Man, through his histoiy, provides a continuous demonstration of
God*s presence, a demonstration, however, which only the whole of
history can render complete. Everything depends upon these alterna­
tives being understood. "God exists, that is, if the objective world
constitutes a perfect manifestation of God, or what comes to the same,
of the total congruence of the free with the unconscious, then nothing
can be otherivise than it is. But the objective world is assuredly not
like this. Or is it, perhaps, really a complete revelation of God? —Now
if the appearance of freedom is necessarily inGnite, the total evolution
of the absolute synthesis is also an infinite process, and history itself a
never wholly completed revelation of that absolute which, for the sake
of consciousness, and thus merely for the sake of appearance, sepa­
rates itself into conscious and unconscious, the free and the intuitant;
but which itself、however, in the light inaccessible wherein it dwells, is
eternal identity and the everlasting ground of harmony between the
two.
We can presume three periods of this revelation, and thus three
periods of history. The ground for such a division is provided by the
two opposites, destiny and providence, between which the middle
ground is occupied by nature, which supplies the transition from one
to the other.
The first period is that wherein the ruling power still operates
as destiny, ie, as a wholly blind force, which coldly and unwittingly
destroys even what is greatest and most splendid; to this period of his­
tory, which we may call the tragic period, belongs the downfall of the
glory and the wonder of the ancient world, the collapse of those great
empires of which scarcely the memory has survived, and whose great­
ness we deduce only from their ruins; the downfall of the noblest race
of men that ever flourished upon earth, and whose return there is sim­
ply a perennial wish.
The second period of history is that wherein what appeared in
the first as destiny, or a wholly blind power, reveals itself as nature,
and the dark decree which formerly prevailed at least appears trans­
formed into a manifest natural latv9 compelling freedom and
212 System of Transcendental Idealism [604-5]

wholly unbridled choice to subserve a natural plan, and thus gradu­

ally importing into history at least a mechanical conformity to law.
This period seems to start with the expansion of the mighty republic of
Rome, from which point onwards the unruly will, expressing itself in a
general urge to conquer and subdue, is brought under constraint. In
first joining the nations generally together, and in bringing into mu­
tual contact such customs and laws, such arts and sciences, as had
hitherto been merely conserved in isolation among particular peoples,
it was compelled unconsciously, and even against its will, to subserve
a natural plan which, in its full development, is destined to lead to a
general comity of nations and the universal state. All events which
fall within this period are thus to be regarded also as mere natural
consequences, so that even the fall of the Roman Empire has neither a
tragic nor a moral aspect, being a necessary outcome of nature's laws,
and indeed a mere tribute that was paid over to nature.
The third period of history will be that wherein the force which
appeared in the earlier stages as destiny or nature has evolved itself
as providence^ and wherein it will become apparent that even what
seemed to be simply the work of destiny or nature was already the be­
ginning of a providence imperfectly revealing itself
When this period will begin, we are unable to tell. But whenever
it comes into existence, God also will then exist.

Problem: To explain how the self itself can become conscious of the
original harmony between subjective and objective

Solution

I
1. All action can be understood only through an original unification of
freedom and necessity.1 The proof is that every action, alike of the in­
dividual and of the entire species,must be conceived of, qua action, as

〔The absolute postulate of all action is an original....

[Henceforward the footnotes and interpolations in brackets give addi

tions and corrections from a copy annotated by Schelling himself. (Tr.)]
[605-6] Principle of Teleology 213

free, but qua objective consequence, as standing under natural laws.

Subjectively, therefore, for inner appearance, we act, but objectively
we never act; it is rather that another acts through us, as it were.
2. But now this objective agency, which acts through me, must again
be myself} Yet I alone am the conscious, whereas this other is the un­
conscious. Hence the unconscious in my act must be identical with the
conscious. This identity, however, cannot be evidenced in free action
itself, since precisely for the sake of free action (ie, the objectification
of this objective)2 it abolishes itself. Hence this identity must be exhib­
ited subsequently to the objectification in question.3 But that which in
free action becomes the objective factor, independent of us, is, prior to
appearance, intuition; so this identity must allow of being evidenced in
intuition.
But now it does not allow of being evidenced in intuiting itself.
For either the intuiting is absolutely subjective, and so not objective at
all, or else it becomes objective [in acting], and then this identity has
been abolished therein, precisely for the sake of the objectification.
Hence the identity will have to be evidenced only (we may suppose) in
the products of the intuiting.
This identity cannot be exhibited in the objective of the second
order, since the latter only comes about through an abolition of such
identity, and through a separation that never terminates. This objec­
tive can indeed be explained no otherwise than by the assumption that
it is something originally posited in harmony, which separates itself in
the free act for the sake of appearance. But now this identical element
is first to be evidenced for the self itself, and since it is the ground for
the explanation of history, it cannot, conversely, be demonstrated from
history.
So this identity can be exhibited only in the objective of the first
order.
We attributed the emergence of the objective world to a wholly
blind mechanism of the intelligence. But now how such a mechanism
could be possible in a nature whose basic feature is consciousness,
would be hard to understand, unless this mechanism were already
determined beforehand by the free and conscious activity. It would
be equally hard to understand how a realization

1The free [agency].

2[Parenthesis canceled in MS].
3be exhibited subsequently to the free act, subsequently to the point at
which the unconscious element confronts me as objective.
214 System of Transcendental Idealism [606]

of our purposes in the external world could ever be possible through

conscious and free activity, unless a susceptibility to such action were
already established in the world, even before it becomes the object of a
conscious act, by virtue of that original identity of the unconscious
with the conscious activity.
But now if all conscious activity is purposive, this coincidence of
conscious and unconscious activity can evidence itself only in a prod­
uct that is purposive^ without being purposively brought about. Na­
ture must be a product of this sort, and this, indeed, is the principle of
all teleology, in which alone we may seek for the solution of the prob­
lem posed above?

'and nature, insofar as it is this, provides for us the first answer to the
question, how or by what means this absolute harmony of necessity and free­
dom, postulated for the sake of making action possible, can again itself be­
come objective to us.
 PART FIVE

Essentials of Teleology according to the

Principles of Transcendental Idealism

As surely as the appearance of freedom is to be comprehended only

through a single identical activity, which has divided itself purely for
the sake of appearing, into conscious and unconscious forms,1 so surely
must nature, as that [which lies beyond this separation and] is
brought forth without freedom, appear as a product that is purposive
without being brought forth in accordance with a purpose; as a prod­
uct, that is, which although it is the work of unseeing mechanism, yet
looks as though it were consciously brought about.
Nature must [a)] appear as a purposive product. The transcen­
dental proo? is established by reference to the necessary harmony of
the unconscious and conscious activities. The proof from experience
has no place in transcendental philosophy, and we therefore pass at
once to the second principle, namely,
Nature is [b)] not purposive in its production [bringing-fbrth],
that is, although in itself it bears all the marks of a purposive product,
it is nevertheless not purposive in origin, and the endeavor to explain
it as due to a purposive production does away with the character of na­
ture, and indeed abolishes that which makes it such. For the peculiar­
ity of nature rests upon this, that in its mechanism, and although it­
self nothing but a blind mechanism, it is nonetheless purposive. If I
take away the mechanism, I take away nature itself. All the magic
which surrounds organic nature, for example, and which can first be
entirely penetrated only by aid of transcendental idealism, rests upon
the contradiction, that although this nature is a product of blind natu­
ral forces, it is nevertheless purposive through and through. But this
very contradiction, which can be deduced a priori on transcendental
principles [those of idealism] is eliminated by teleological modes of ex­
planation.3
Nature in its purposive forms speaks figuratively

through a single absolute harmony, which has divided itself, for the
sake of appearing, into conscious and unconscious activity.
2the speculative and original proof
^or nature is there presented as purposive in the sense that the inten­
tion to create is insisted on. The point, however, is that the highest degree of
purposiveness appears precisely where intention and purpose are absent.
216 System of Transcendental Idealism [608-9]

to us, says Kant; the interpretation of its cipher yields us the appear­
ance of freedom in ourselves. In the natural product we still find side
by side what in free action has been separated for purposes of appear­
ance. Every plant is entirely what it should be; what is free therein is
necessary, and what is necessary is free. Man is forever a broken frag­
ment, for either his action is necessary, and then not free, or free, and
then not necessary and according to law. The complete appearance of
freedom and necessity unified in the external world therefore yields
me organic nature only,1 and this could already have been inferred be­
forehand from the place that nature occupies, in theoretical philoso­
phy, in the series of productions; seeing that, according to our distinc­
tions, nature itself is already a producing become objective, and to that
extent therefore approximates to free action, but is nevertheless an
unconscious intuiting of producing, and hence to that extent is itself
again a blind producing.
Now this contradiction, whereby one and the same product is at
once a blind product, and yet is purposive, is utterly inexplicable in
any system except that of transcendental idealism, inasmuch as every
other denies either the purposiveness of the products, or the mechan­
ism involved in bringing them about, and so must do away with this
same coexistence. One possibility is to suppose that matter shapes
itself automatically into purposive products, whereby it at least be­
comes intelligible how matter and the concept of purpose interfuse
in the products; and then one either ascribes absolute reality to mat­
ter, as happens in hylozoism, a nonsensical system, inasmuch as it
supposes matter itself to be intelligent; or else not, in which case
matter must be thought of as merely the mode of intuition of an intel­
ligent being, so that the concept of purpose and the object thereupon
merge, in fact, not in matter, but in the intuition of that intelligence,
whereby hylozoism itself then leads back once more to transcendental
idealism. The other possibility is to suppose matter to be absolutely
inert, and to have the purposiveness in its products brought about by
an intelligence outside it, in such a way that the concept of this
purposiveness must have preceded production itself; but then there
is no seeing how concept and object can have been everlastingly
interfused, or how—in a word—the product can be a work, not of arti­
fice, but of nature. For the difference between artifact and natural
product resides precisely in this, that in the former the concept is im­
pressed only upon the surface of the object, while in

Either in the particular case, or in nature as a whole, which is an abso­

lutely organic being.
[609-10] Teleology in Nature 217

the latter it has gone over into the object itself and is utterly insepa­
rable therefrom. But now this absolute identity of the purposive con­
cept with the object itself is attributable only to a type of production in
which conscious and unconscious activity are united; but this in turn
is possible only within an intelligence. But now it is readily intelli­
gible how a creative intelligence should be able to present a world to
itself, yet not how it could do so to others outside itself. So here once
more we find ourselves driven back upon transcendental idealism.
The purposiveness of nature, alike in the large and in individual
products, can be grasped only through an intuition in which the con­
cept of the concept and the object itself are originally and inseparably
united; for then indeed the product will have to appear as purposive,
since the production itself was already determined by that principle
which separates, for the sake of consciousness, into the free and the
nonfree; and yet again the concept of purpose cannot be thought to
have preceded production, since both, in this intuition, were still in­
separable. Now that all teleological modes of explanation, eg, those
which have the purposive concept that corresponds to the conscious
activity taking precedence over the object that corresponds to the un­
conscious activity, in fact do away with all true explanation of nature,
and thereby themselves become pernicious to knowledge in its full­
ness, is so palpably self-evident from what has gone before, that even
by way of examples it requires no further elucidation.

II
Nature, in its blind and mechanical purposiveness, admittedly repre­
sents to me an original identity of the conscious and unconscious ac­
tivities, but [for all that,] it does not present this identity to me as one
whose ultimate ground resides in the self itself. The transcendental
philosopher assuredly recognizes that the principle of this [harmony]
is that ultimate in ourselves1 which already undergoes division in the
primary act of selfconsciousness, and on which the whole of conscious­
ness, with all its determinations, is founded; but the self itself is not
aware of this. Now the aim of our whole science was in fact precisely
this, of explaining how the ultimate ground of the harmony between
subjective and objective becomes an object to the self itself.
An intuition must therefore be exhibitable in the intelligence
itself, whereby in one and the same

«he intrinsic nature, the essence of the soul.

218 System of Transcendental Idealism [610-11]

appearance the self is at once conscious and unconscious for itselft and
it is by means of such an intuition that we first bring forth the intelli­
gence, as it were, entirely out of itself; by such an intuition, therefore,
that we also first resolve the entire [the supreme] problem of transcen­
dental philosophy (that of explaining the congruence between subjec­
tive and objective).
By the first specification, namely that conscious and uncon­
scious activity become objective in one and the same intuition, this in­
tuition is distinguished from that which we were able to deduce1 in
practical philosophy, where the intelligence was conscious only for in­
ner intuition, but for outer remained unconscious.
By the second specification, namely that in one and the same in­
tuition the self become simultaneously conscious for itself, and uncon­
scious, the intuition here postulated is distinguished from that which
we have in the case of natural products, where we certainly recognize
this identity, but not as an identity whose principle lies in the self it­
self. Every organism is a monogram2 of that original identity, but in
order to recognize itself in that reflected image, the self must already
have recognized itself directly in the identity in question.
We have only to analyze the features of this intuition we have
now deduced, in order to discover the intuition itself; and, to judge
beforehand, it can be no other than the intuition of art.

'from the self-intuition involved in the free act.

2an intricate outline.
 PART SIX

Deduction of a Universal Organ of Philosophy, or:

Essentials of the Philosophy of Art according
to the Principles of Transcendental Idealism.

§1 Deduction of the Art-Product as Such

The intuition we have postulated is to bring together that which exists

in separation in the appearance of freedom and in the intuition of the
natural product; namely identity of the conscious and the unconscious
in the se优 and consciousness of this identity. The product of this intu­
ition will therefore verge on the one side upon the product of nature,
and on the other upon the product of freedom, and must unite in itself
the characteristics of both. If we know the product of the intuition, we
are also acquainted with the intuition itself, and hence we need only
derive the product, in order to derive the intuition.
With the product of freedom, our product will have this in com­
mon, that it is consciously brought about; and with the product of na­
ture, that it is unconsciously brought about. In the former respect it
will thus be the reverse of the organic natural product. Whereas the
unconscious (blind) activity is reflected out of the organic product as a
conscious one, the conscious activity will conversely be reflected out of
the product here under consideration as an unconscious (objective)
one; whereas the organic product reflects its unconscious activity to
me as determined by conscious activity, the product here being derived
will conversely reflect conscious activity as determined by uncon­
scious. To put it more briefly: nature begins as unconscious and ends
as conscious; the process of production is not purposive, but the prod­
uct certainly is so. In the activity at present under discussion, the self
must begin (subjectively) with consciousness, and end without con­
sciousness, or objectively; the self is conscious in respect of production,
unconscious in regard to the product.
But now how are we to explain transcendentally to ourselves an
intuition such as this, in which the unconscious activity operates as it
were, through the conscious, to the point of attaining complete iden­
tity therewith? —Let us first give thought to the fact that the activity
is to be a conscious one. But now it is utterly impossible for anything
objective to be brought forth with consciousness, although that is be­
ing demanded here. The objective is simply that which arises without
220 System of Transcendental Idealism [613-14]

consciousness, and hence what is properly objective in this intuition

must likewise be incapable of being brought forth with consciousness.
On this point we may appeal directly to the arguments already
brought forward in regard to free action, namely that the objective fac­
tor therein is supplied by something independent of freedom. The dif­
ference is merely this, [a)] that in the free act the identity of the two
activities must be abolished, precisely in order that the act may
thereby appear as free, [whereas here, the two are to appear as one in
consciousness itself, without negation thereof]. Moreover, [b)J in the
free act the two activities can never become absolutely identical,
whence even the object of the free act is necessarily an infinite one,
never completely realized, for if it was, the conscious and the objective
activities would merge into one, that is, the appearance of freedom
would cease. Now that which was utterly impossible through freedom
is to become possible through the act here postulated, though as the
price of this the latter must cease to be a free act, and becomes one in
which freedom and necessity are absolutely united. But now the pro­
duction was still supposed to take place with consciousness, which is
impossible unless the two [activities] are separated. So here is a mani­
fest contradiction. [I present it once again.] Conscious and uncon­
scious activities are to be absolutely one in the product, just as they
also are in the organic product, but they are to be one in a different
manner; the two are to be one /or the self itself. This is impossible,
however, unless the self is conscious of the production. But if it is so,
the two activities must be separated, for this is a necessary condition
for being conscious of the production. So the two activities must be
one, since otherwise there is no identity, and yet must both be sepa­
rated, since otherwise there is identity, but not for the self. How is
this contradiction to be resolved?
The two activities must be separated for purposes of the appear*
ing, the becoming-objective of the production, just as in the free act
they had to be separated in order that the intuition might become
objective. But they cannot be separated ad infinitum〉as in the free
act, since otherwise the objective element would never be a complete
manifestation of this identity.1 The identity of the two was to be
abolished only for the sake of consciousness, but the production is
to end in unconsciousness; so there must be a point at which the two
merge into one; and conversely, where the two merge

'That which lies, for the free act, in an infinite progress, is to be, in the
current engendering, a thing present, is to become actual, objective, in some­
thing finite.
[614-15] Deduction of the Art Product 221

into one, the production must cease to appear as a free one?

If this point in production is reached, the producing must abso­
lutely stop, and it must be impossible for the producer to go on produc­
ing; for the condition of all producing is precisely the opposition be*
tween conscious and unconscious activity; but here they have abso­
lutely to coincide, and thus within the intelligence all conflict has to be
eliminated, all contradiction reconciled.2
The intelligence will therefore end with a complete recognition
of the identity expressed in the product as an identity whose principle
lies in the intelligence itself; it will end, that is, in a complete intuiting
of itself.3 Now since it was the free tendency to self-intuition in that
identity which originally divided the intelligence from itself, the feel­
ing accompanying this intuition will be that of an infinite tranquillity.
With the completion of the product, all urge to produce is halted, all
contradictions are eliminated, all riddles resolved. Since production
set out from freedom, that is, from an unceasing opposition of the two
activities, the intelligence will be unable to attribute this absolute
union of the two, in which production ends, to freedom; so as soon as
the product is completed, all appearance of freedom is removed. The
intelligence will feel itself astonished and blessed by this union, will
regard it, that is, in the light of a bounty freely granted by a higher
nature, by whose aid the impossible has been made possible.
This unknown, however, whereby the objective and the con­
scious activities are here brought into unexpected harmony, is none
other than that absolute4 which contains the common ground of the
preestablished harmony between the conscious and the unconscious.
Hence, if this absolute is reflected from out of the product, it

xAt that point the free activity has wholly gone over into the olyective,
the necessary aspect. Hence production is free at the outset, whereas the
product appears as an absolute identity of the free activity with the necessary
one.
2[This paragraph canceled in the author's copy. - Tr.]
3For it (the intelligence) is itself the producer; but at the same time
this identity has wholly broken loose therefrom, and become totally objective
to the intelligence, i.e., totally objective to itself,
4the primordial self.
222 System of Transcendental Idealism [613-14]

will appear to the intelligence as something lying above the latter, and
which, in contrast to freedom, brings an element of the unintended to
that which was begun with consciousness and intention.
This unchanging identity, which can never attain to conscious­
ness, and merely radiates back from the product, is for the producer
precisely what destiny is for the agent, namely a dark unknown force
which supplies the element of completeness or objectivity to the piece­
work of freedom; and as that power is called destiny, which through
our free action realizes, without our knowledge and even against our
will, goals that we did not envisage^ so likewise that incomprehensible
agency which supplies objectivity to the conscious, without the coopera­
tion of freedom, and to some extent in opposition to freedom (wherein is
eternally dispersed what in this production is united), is denominated
by means of the obscure concept oigenius.
The product we postulate is none other than the product of ge­
nius, or, since genius is possible only in the arts, the product of art.
The deduction is concluded, and our next task is simply to show
by thoroughgoing analysis that all the features of the production we
have postulated come together in the aesthetic.
The fact that all aesthetic production rests upon a conflict of ac­
tivities can be justifiably inferred already from the testimony of all art­
ists, that they are involuntarily driven to create their works, and that
in producing them they merely satisfy an irresistible urge of their own
nature; for if every urge proceeds from a contradiction in such wise
that, given the contradiction, free activity becomes involuntary, the ar­
tistic urge also must proceed from such a feeling of inner contradiction.
But since this contradiction sets in motion the whole man with all his
forces, it is undoubtedly one which strikes at the ultimate in him, the
root of his whole being.1 It is as if, in the exceptional man (which art­
ists above all are, in the highest sense of the word), that unalterable
identity, on which all existence is founded, had laid aside the veil
wherewith it shrouds itself in others, and, just as it is directly aflected
by things, so also works directly back upon everything. Thus it can
only be the contradiction between conscious and unconscious in the
free act which sets the artistic urge in motion; just as,conversely, it can
be given to art alone to pacify our endless striving, and likewise to re­
solve the final and uttermost contradiction within us. Just as aesthetic

】the true in-itself.

[612-18] Artistic Production 223

production proceeds from the feeling of a seemingly irresoluble contra­

diction, so it ends likewise, by the testimony of all artists, and of all
who share their inspiration, in the feeling of an infinite harmony; and
that this feeling which accompanies completion is at the same time a
deep emotion^ is itself enough to show that the artist attributes that to­
tal resolution of his conflict which he finds achieved in his work of art,
not to himself [alone], but to a bounty freely granted by his own na­
ture, which, however unrelentingly it set him in conflict with himself,
is no less gracious in relieving him of the pain of this contradiction.1
For just as the artist is driven into production involuntarily and even
in spite of himself (whence the ancient expressions pati deum^ etc.,
and above all the idea of being inspired by an afflatus from without),
so likewise is his production endowed with objectivity as if by no help
of his own, that is, itself in a purely objective manner. Just as the
man of destiny does not execute what he wishes or intends, but rather
what he is obliged to execute by an inscrutable fate which governs
him, so the artist, however deliberate he may be, seems nonetheless to
be governed, in regard to what is truly objective in his creation, by a
power which separates him from all other men, and compels him to
say or depict things which he does not fully understand himself, and
whose meaning is infinite. Now every absolute concurrence of the two
antithetical activities is utterly unaccountable, being simply a phe­
nomenon which although incomprehensible,2 yet cannot be denied;
and art, therefore, is the one everlasting revelation which yields that
concurrence, and the marvel which, had it existed but once only,
would necessarily have convinced us of the absolute reality of that su­
preme event.
Now again if art comes about through two activities totally
distinct from one another, genius is neither one nor the other, but that
which presides over both. If we are to seek in one of the two activi­
ties, namely the conscious, for what is ordinarily called art, though
it is only one part thereof namely that aspect of it which is exercised
with consciousness, thought and reflection, and can be taught and
learnt and achieved through tradition and practice, we shall have,
on the other hand, to seek in the unconscious factor which enters
into art for that about it which cannot be learned, nor attained by
practice, nor in any other way, but can only be

Attributes ... to a bounty freely granted by his own nature, and thus
to a coincidence of the unconscious with the conscious activity [Author*s copy].
2from the standpoint of mere reflection.
224 System of Transcendental Idealism [618-19]

inborn through the free bounty of nature; and this is what we may
call, in a word, the element ofpoetry in art.
It is self-evident from this, however, that it would be utterly fu­
tile to ask which of the two constituents should have preference over
the other, since each of them, in fact, is valueless without the other,
and it is only in conjunction that they bring forth the highest. For al­
though what is not attained by practice, but is born in us, is commonly
regarded as the nobler, the gods have in fact tied the very exercise of
that innate power so closely to a man% serious application, his indus­
try and thought, that even where it is inborn, poetry without art en­
genders, as it were, only dead products, which can give no pleasure to
any man's mind, and repel all judgment and even intuition, owing to
the wholly blind force which operates therein. It is, on the contrary,
far more to be expected that art without poetry should be able to
achieve something, than poetry without art; partly because it is not
easy for a man to be by nature wholly without poetry, though many
are wholly without art; and partly because a persistent study of the
thoughts of great masters is able in some degree to make up for the
initial want of objective power. All that can ever arise from this, how­
ever, is merely a semblance of poetry, which, by its superficiality and
by many other indications, eg, the high value it attaches to the mere
mechanics of art, the poverty of form in which it operates, etc., is eas­
ily distinguishable in contrast to the unfathomable depth which the
true artist, though he labors with the greatest diligence, involuntarily
imparts to his work, and which neither he nor anyone else is wholly
able to penetrate.
But now it is also self-evident that just as poetry and art are
each individually incapable of engendering perfection, so a divided ex­
istence of both is equally inadequate to the task? It is therefore clear
that, since the identity of the two can only be innate, and is utterly im­
possible and unattainable through freedom, perfection is possible only
through genius, which, for that very reason, is for the aesthetic what
the self is for philosophy, namely the supreme absolute reality, which
never itself becomes objective, but is the cause of everything that is so.

Neither has priority over the other. It is, indeed, simply the equipoise
of the two (art and poetry) which is reflected in the work of art.
[619-20] Artistic Production 225

§2 Character of the Art-Product

a) The work of art reflects to us the identity of the conscious and

unconscious activities. But the opposition between them is an infinite
one, and its removal is eflected without any assistance from freedom.
Hence the basic character of the work of art is that of an unconscious
infinity [synthesis of nature and freedom]. Besides what he has put into
his work with manifest intention, the artist seems instinctively, as it
were, to have depicted therein an infinity, which no finite under­
standing is capable of developing to the full. To explain what we mean
by a single example: the mythology of the Greeks, which undeniably
contains an infinite meaning and a symbolism for all ideas, arose
among a people, and in a fashion, which both make it impossible to sup­
pose any comprehensive forethought in devising it, or in the harmony
whereby everything is united into one great whole. So it is with every
true work of art, in that every one of them is capable of being ex­
pounded ad infinitum^ as though it contained an infinity of purposes,
while yet one is never able to say whether this infinity has lain within
the artist himself, or resides only in the work of art. By contrast, in the
product which merely apes the character of a work of art, purpose and
rule lie on the surface, and seem so restricted and circumscribed, that
the product is no more than a faithful replica of the artist's conscious
activity, and is in every respect an object for reflection only, not for in-
tuition, which loves to sink itself in what it contemplates, and finds no
resting place short of the inHnite.
b) Every aesthetic production proceeds from the feeling of an in­
finite contradiction, and hence also the feeling which accompanies
completion of the art-product must be one of an infinite tranquillity;
and this latter, in turn, must also pass over into the work of art itself
Hence the outward expression of the work of art is one of calm, and si­
lent grandeur, even where the aim is to give expression to the utmost
intensity of pain or joy.
c) Every aesthetic production proceeds from an intrinsically infi­
nite separation of the two activities, which in every free act of produc­
ing are divided. But now since these two activities are to be depicted
in the product as united, what this latter presents is an infinite finitely
displayed. But the infinite finitely displayed is beauty. The basic fea­
ture of every work of art, in which both the preceding are compre­
hended, is therefore beauty, and without beauty there is no work
226 System of Transcendental Idealism [622-23]

of art. There are, admittedly, sublime works of art, and beauty and
sublimity in a certain respect are opposed to each other, in that a land­
scape, for example, can be beautiful without therefore being sublime,
and vice versa. However, the opposition between beauty and sublimity
is one which occurs only in regard to the object, not in regard to the
subject of intuition. For the difference between the beautiful and the
sublime work of art consists simply in this, that where beauty is
present, the infinite contradiction is eliminated in the object itself;
whereas when sublimity is present, the conflict is not reconciled in the
object itself, but merely uplifted to a point at which it is involuntarily
eliminated in the intuition; and this, then, is much as if it were to be
eliminated in the object.1 It can also be shown very easily that sublim­
ity rests upon the same contradiction as that on which beauty rests.
For whenever an object is spoken of as sublime, a magnitude is admit­
ted by the unconscious activity which it is impossible to accept into the
conscious one: whereupon the self is thrown into a conflict with itself
which can end only in an aesthetic intuition, whereby both activities
are brought into unexpected harmony; save only that the intuition}
which here lies not in the artist, but in the intuiting subject himself, is
a wholly involuntary one, in that the sublime (quite unlike the merely
strange, which similarly confronts the imagination with a contradic­
tion, though one that is not worth the trouble of resolving) sets all the
forces of the mind in motion, in order to resolve a contradiction which
threatens our whole intellectual existence.
Now that the characteristics of the work of art have been de­
rived, its difference from all other products has simultaneously been
brought to light.
For the art-product differs from the organic product of
nature primarily in these respects: [a) that the organic being still
exhibits unseparated what the aesthetic production displays after
separation, though united; b)] that the organic production does not
proceed from consciousness, or therefore from the infinite contradic­
tion, which is the condition of aesthetic production. Hence [if beauty
is essentially the resolution of an infinite conflict] the organic product
of nature will likewise not necessarily be beautiful^ and if it is so,
its beauty will appear as altogether

"his passage replaced in the author's copy by the following: For al­
though there are sublime works of art, and sublimity is customarily con­
trasted with beauty, there is actually no true objective opposition between
beauty and sublimity; the truly and absolutely beautiful is invariably also
sublime, and the sublime (if it truly is so) is beautiful as well.
[622-23] Art and Science 227

contingent, since the condition thereof cannot be thought of as existing

in nature. From this we may explain the quite peculiar interest in
natural beauty, not insofar as it is beauty as such, but insofar as it is
specifically natural beauty. Whence it is self-evident what we are to
think of the imitation of nature as a principle of art; for so far from the
merely contingent beauty of nature providing the rule to art, the fact
is, rather, that what art creates in its perfection is the principle and
norm for the judgment of natural beauty.
It is easy to conceive how the aesthetic product is to be distin­
guished from the common artifact、since all aesthetic creation is abso­
lutely free in regard to its principle, in that the artist can be driven to
create by a contradiction, indeed, but only by one which lies in the
highest regions of his own nature; whereas every other sort of creation
is occasioned by a contradiction which lies outside the actual producer,
and thus has in every case a goal outside itself1 This independence of
external goals is the source of that holiness and purity of art, which
goes so far that it not only rules out relationship with all mere sensory
pleasure, to demand which of art is the true nature of barbarism; or
with the useful, to require which of art is possible only in an age which
supposes the highest efforts of the human spirit to consist in economic
discoveries.2 It actually excludes relation with everything pertaining
to morality, and even leaves far beneath it the sciences (which in point
of disinterestedness stand closest to art), simply because they are al­
ways directed to a goal outside themselves, and must ultimately them­
selves serve merely as a means for the highest (namely art).
So far as particularly concerns the relation of art to science, the
two are so utterly opposed in tendency, that if science were ever to
have discharged its whole task, as art has always discharged it, they
would both have to coincide and merge into one—which is proof of
directions that they are radically opposed. For though science at its
highest level has one and the same business as art, this business, ow­
ing to the manner of effecting it, is an endless one for science, so that
one may say that art constitutes the ideal of science* and where art is,
science has yet to attain to. From this, too, it is apparent why and to
what extent there is no genius in science; not indeed that it would be
impossible for a scientific problem to be solved by means

^absolute transition into the objective).

2Beetroots.
228 System of Transcendental Idealism [623-24]

of genius, but because this same problem whose solution can be found
by genius, is also soluble mechanically. Such, for example, is the
Newtonian system of gravitation, which could have been a discovery of
genius, and in its first discoverer, Kepler, really was so, but could
equally also have been a wholly scientific discoveiy, which it actually
became in the hands of Newton. Only what art brings forth is simply
and solely possible through genius, since in every task that art has dis­
charged, an infinite contradiction is reconciled. What science brings
forth, can be brought forth through genius, but it is not necessarily en­
gendered through this. It therefore is and remains problematic in sci­
ence, fe., one can, indeed, always say definitely where it is not
present, but never where it is. There are but few indications which al­
low us to infer genius in the sciences; (that one has to infer it is al­
ready evidence of the peculiarity of the matter). It is, for example, as­
suredly not present, where a whole, such as a system, arises piecemeal
and as though by putting together. One would thus have to suppose,
conversely, that genius is present, where the idea of the whole has
manifestly preceded the individual parts. For since the idea of the
whole cannot in fact become clear save through its development in the
individual parts, while those parts, on the other hand, are possible
only through the idea of the whole, there seema to be a contradiction
here which is possible only through an act of genius, i.e., an unex­
pected concurrence of the unconscious with the conscious activity. An­
other ground for the presumption of genius in the sciences would be if
someone were to say and maintain things whose meaning he could not
possibly have understood entirely, either owing to the period at which
he lived, or by reason of his other utterances; so that he has thus as­
serted something apparently with consciousness, which he could in
fact only have asserted unconsciously. It could, however be readily
shown in a number of ways, that even these grounds for the presump­
tion may be delusive in the extreme.
Genius is thus marked off from everything that consists in mere
talent or skill by the fact that through it a contradiction is resolved,
which is soluble absolutely and otherwise by nothing else. In all pro­
ducing, even of the most ordinary and commonplace sort, an uncon­
scious activity operates along with the conscious one; but only a pro­
ducing whose condition was an infinite opposition of the two activities
is an aesthetic producing, and one that is only possible through genius.
 Art and Philosophy 229

§3 Corollaries

Relation of Art to Philosophy

Now that we have deduced the nature and character of the art-product
as completely as was necessary for purposes of the present enquiry,
there is nothing more we need do except to set forth the relation which
the philosophy of art bears to the whole system of philosophy.
1. The whole of philosophy starts, and must start, from a prin­
ciple which, qua absolutely identical, is utterly nonobjective. But now
how is this absolutely nonobjective to be called up to consciousness and
understood—a thing needful, if it is the condition for understanding
the whole of philosophy? That it can no more be apprehended through
concepts than it is capable of being set forth by means of them, stands
in no need of proof Nothing remains, therefore, but for it to be set
forth in an immediate intuition, though this is itself in turn inconceiv­
able, and, since its object is to be something utterly nonobjective,
seems, indeed, to be self-contradictory. But now were such an intu­
ition in fact to exist, having as its object the absolutely identical, in it­
self neither subjective nor objective, and were we, in respect of this in­
tuition, which can only be an intellectual one, to appeal to immediate
experience, then how, in that case, could even this intuition be in turn
posited objectively? How, that is, can it be established beyond doubt,
that such an intuition does not rest upon a purely subjective decep­
tion, if it possesses no objectivity that is universal and acknowledged
by all men? This universally acknowledged and altogether incontest­
able objectivity of intellectual intuition is art itself. For the aesthetic
intuition simply is the intellectual intuition become objective.1

叮he preceding is replaced in the author's copy by: The whole of phi­
losophy starts, and must start, from a principle which, as the absolute prin­
ciple! is also at the same time the absolutely identical. An absolutely simple
and identical cannot be grasped or communicated through description, nor
through concepts at all. It can only be intuited. Such an intuition is the or­
gan of all philosophy. —But this intuition, which is an intellectual rather
than a sensory one, and has as its object neither the objective nor the subjec­
tive, but the absolutely identical, in itself neither sulyective nor objective, is
itself merely an internal one, which cannot in turn become objective for itself:
it can become objective only through a second intuition. This second intuition
is the aesthetic.
230 System of Transcendental Idealism [625-26]

The work of art merely reflects to me what is otherwise not reflected

by anything, namely that absolutely identical which has already di­
vided itself even in the self. Hence, that which the philosopher allows
to be divided even in the primary act of consciousness, and which
would otherwise be inaccessible to any intuition, comes, through the
miracle of art, to be radiated back from the products thereof.
It is not, however, the first principle of philosophy, merely, and
the first intuition that philosophy proceeds from, which initially be­
come objective through aesthetic production; the same is true of the
entire mechanism which philosophy deduces, and on which in turn it
rests.
Philosophy sets out from an infinite dichotomy of opposed
activities;1 but the same dichotomy is also the basis of every aesthetic
production, and by each individual manifestation of art it is wholly
resolved.2 Now what is this wonderful power whereby, in productive
intuition (so the philosopher claims), an infinite opposition is removed?
So far we have not been able to render this mechanism entirely intelli­
gible, since it is only the power of art which can unveil it completely.
This productive power is the same whereby art also achieves the im­
possible, namely to resolve an infinite opposition in a finite product. It
is the poetic gift, which in its primary potentiality constitutes the pri­
mordial intuition, and conversely? what we speak of as the poetic gift
is merely productive intuition, reiterated to its highest power. It is
one and the same capacity that is active in both, the only one whereby
we are able to think and to couple together even what is contradic­
tory—and its name is imagination. Hence, that which appears to us
outside the sphere of consciousness, as real, and that which appears
within it, as ideal, or as the world of art, are also products of

Thilosophy makes all production of intuition proceed from a separa­

tion of activities that were previously not opposed.
2The final words, "and .. . resolved>*' struck out in the author's copy.
3Replaced in the author's copy by: That productive power whereby the
object arises is likewise the source from which an object also springs forth to
art, save only that in the first case the activity is dull and limited, while in
the latter it is clear and boundless. The poetic gift, regarded in its primary
potentiality, is the soul's most primitive capacity for production, insofar as
the latter declares itself in finite and actual things, and conversely....
[626-28] Art and Philosophy 231

one and the same activity. But this very fact, that where the condi­
tions of emergence are otherwise entirely similar, the one takes itfi ori­
gin from outside consciousness, the other from within it, constitutes
the eternal difference between them which can never be removed.
To be sure, then, the real world evolves entirely from the same
original opposition as must also give rise to the world of art, which has
equally to be viewed as one great whole, and which in all its individual
products depicts only the one infinite. But outside consciousness this
opposition is only infinite inasmuch as an infinity is exhibited by the
objective world as a whole, and never by any individual object;
whereas for art this opposition is an infinite one in regard to every
single object, and infinity is exhibited in every one of its products. For
if aesthetic production proceeds from freedom, and if it is precisely for
freedom that this opposition of conscious and unconscious activities is
an absolute one, there is properly speaking but one absolute work of
art, which may indeed exist in altogether different versions, yet is still
only one, even though it should not yet exist in its most ultimate form.
It can be no objection to this view, that if so, the very liberal use now
made of the predicate *work of art* will no longer do. Nothing is a
work of art which does not exhibit an infinite, either directly, or at
least by reflection. Are we to call works of art, for example, even such
compositions as by nature depict only the individual and subjective?
In that case we shall have to bestow this title also upon every epigram,
which preserves merely a momentary sensation or current impression;
though indeed the great masters who have practiced in such genres
were seeking to bring forth objectivity itself only through the totality
of their creations, and used them simply as a means to depict a whole
infinite life, and to project it back from a many-faceted mirror.
2. If aesthetic intuition is merely transcendental1 intuition be­
come objective, it is self-evident that art is at once the only true and
eternal organ and document of philosophy, which ever and again con­
tinues to speak to us of what philosophy cannot depict in external
form, namely the unconscious element in acting and producing, and its
original identity with the conscious. Art is paramount to the philoso­
pher, precisely because it opens to him, as it were, the holy of holies,
where burns in eternal and original unity, as if in a single flame, that
which in nature and history is rent asunder, and in life and action, no
less than in thought, must forever fly apart. The view of nature,
which the philosopher frames artificially, is for art the original

'intellectual (author's correction).

232 System of Transcendental Idealism [628-29]

and natural one. What we speak of as nature is a poem lying pent in a

mysterious and wonderful script. Yet the riddle could reveal itself
were we to recognize in it the odyssey of the spirit, which, marvelously
deluded, seeks itself, and in seeking flies from itself; for through the
world of sense there glimmers, as if through words the meaning, as if
through dissolving mists the land of fantasy, of which we are in
search. Each splendid painting owes, as it were, its genesis to a re­
moval of the invisible barrier dividing the real from the ideal world,
and is no more than the gateway, through which come forth com­
pletely the shapes and scenes of that world of fantasy which gleams
but imperfectly through the real. Nature, to the artist, is nothing
more than it is to the philosopher, being simply the ideal world ap­
pearing under permanent restrictions, or merely the imperfect reflec­
tion of a world existing, not outside him, but within.
But now what may be the source of this kinship of philosophy
and art, despite the opposition between them, is a question already
sufficiently answered in what has gone before.
We therefore close with the following observation. —A system is
completed when it is led back to its starting point. But this is pre­
cisely the case with our own. The ultimate ground of all harmony be­
tween subjective and objective could be exhibited in its original iden­
tity only through intellectual intuition; and it is precisely this ground
which, by means of the work of art, has been brought forth entirely
from the subjective, and rendered wholly objective, in such wise, that
we have gradually led our object, the self itself, up to the very point
where we ourselves were standing when we began to philosophize.
But now if it is art alone which can succeed in objectifying
with universal validity what the philosopher is able to present in a
merely subjective fashion, there is one more conclusion yet to be
drawn. Philosophy was born and nourished by poetry in the infancy
of knowledge, and with it all those sciences it has guided toward
perfection; we may thus expect them, on completion, to flow back
like so many individual streams into the universal ocean of poetry
from which they took their source. Nor is it in general difficult to
say what the medium for this return of science to poetry will be; for
in mythology such a medium existed, before the occurrence of a
breach now seemingly beyond repair.1 But how a new

】The further development of this idea is contained in a treatise。九 My­

thology t already sketched out a number of years ago.
[629-31] Art and Philosophy 233

mythology is itself to arise, which shall be the creation, not of some in­
dividual author, but of a new race, personifying, as it were, one single
poet—that is a problem whose solution can be looked for only in the
future destinies of the world, and in the course of history to come.

General Observation on the Whole System

If the reader, who has followed our discussion attentively up to this

point, now considers once more the interconnection of the whole, he
will doubtless remark as follows:
That the whole system falls between two extremes, of which one
is characterized by intellectual, the other by aesthetic intuition. What
intellectual intuition is for the philosopher, aesthetic intuition is for
his object. The former, since it is necessary purely for purposes of that
special direction of the mind which it takes in philosophizing, makes
no appearance at all in ordinary consciousness; the latter, since it is
nothing else but intellectual intuition given universal currency, or be­
come objective, can at least figure in every consciousness. But from
this very fact it may also be understood that, and why, philosophy as
philosophy can never become generally current. The one field to
which absolute objectivity is granted, is art. Take away objectivity
from art, one might say, and it ceases to be what it is, and becomes
philosophy; grant objectivity to philosophy, and it ceases to be philoso­
phy, and becomes art. —Philosophy attains, indeed, to the highest, but
it brings to this summit only, so to say, the fraction of a man. Art
brings the whole ma% as he is, to that point, namely to a knowledge of
the highest, and this is what underlies the eternal difference and the
marvel of art.
That moreover the whole sequence of the transcendental phi­
losophy is based merely upon a continual raising of self-intuition to in­
creasingly higher powers, from the first and simplest exercise of self-
consciousness, to the highest, namely the aesthetic.
The following are the powers through which the object of phi­
losophy takes its course, in order to bring forth the entire edifice of
self-consciousness
The act of self-consciousness in which that absolute identical
first divides itself, is nothing else but an act qIself-intuition as such.
By this act, therefore, nothing determinate can as yet be posited in
the self, since it is only first through it that any determinacy is
posited at all. In this primaiy act the identical first becomes at once
both subject and object, i.e., becomes a self at all—not for itself,
234 System of Transcendental Idealism [631-32]

though certainly for philosophical reflection.

(What the identical may be, abstracted from and, as it were,
prior to this act, simply cannot be asked. For it is that which can only
reveal itself through self-consciousness, and cannot anywhere part
company from this act.)
The second self-intuition is that whereby the self intuits that
determinacy posited in the objective of its activity; and this takes place
in sensation. In this intuition the self is an object for itself, whereas in
the preceding one it was object and subject only for the philosopher.
In the third self-intuition the self also becomes an object to itself
qua sensing, that is, even what has hitherto been subjective in the self
is carried over to the objective; thus everything in the self is now
objective, or the self is wholly objective, and qua objective is subject
and object at once.
Of this stage of consciousness, nothing else will be able to re­
main behind, therefore, save what will be found, after consciousness
has arisen, as the absolute objective (the external world). —This intu­
ition, which is already raised to a higher power, and is for that very
reason productive, contains, apart from the objective and subjective
activities, which are both objective in the present case, yet a third, the
truly intuitant or ideal activity; this it is which afterwards comes to
light as the conscious activity, but which, since it is merely the third
derived from these two, can neither be separated from them nor op­
posed to them. —Thus in this intuition a conscious activity is already
implicit, or the unconscious objective is determined by a conscious ac­
tivity, save only that the latter is not distinguished as such.
The intuition that follows will be that whereby the self intuits
itself as productive* But now since the self is at present purely objec­
tive, this intuition too will be purely objective, ie, once more without
consciousness. There is indeed present in this intuition an ideal activ­
ity, having as its object that intuitant, equally ideal activity involved
in the preceding intuition; here, therefore, the intuitant activity is an
ideal activity of the second order, ie, a purposive, albeit an uncon­
sciously puqx)sive one. That which remains of this intuition in con­
sciousness will thus indeed appear as purposive, but not as a product
purposively brought forth. Such a product is organization^ in its
whole extent.
By means of these four stages, the self as an intelligence is com­
pleted. It is evident that up to this point nature keeps wholly in step
with the self, and hence that nature undoubtedly lacks only the final
[632-33] Natural and Moral Order 235

phase, whereby all these intuitions acquire for it the same meaning as
they have for the self. But what this final phase may be, will appear
from what follows.
If the self were to continue to be purely objective, self-intuition
could go on rising to higher powers ad infinitum, but the process
would merely lengthen the series of products in nature without ever
giving rise to consciousness. The latter is possible only if that purely
objective element in the self becomes objective to the self itself. But
the ground of this cannot lie in the self itself. For the self is absolutely
identical with this purely objective element. The ground can therefore
lie only outside a self which, by progressive limitation, has gradually
been restricted into an intelligence, and even to the point of individ­
uality. But outside the individual, i.e., independent of him, there is
only the intelligence itself. But [according to the mechanism deduced]
the intelligence itself where it exists, must restrict itself into individu­
ality. Hence the ground we are looking for outside the individual can
only lie in another individual.
The absolutely objective can only become an object to the self it­
self through the influence of other rational beings. But the intention
of such influence must already have been present in these beings.
Hence, freedom is always presupposed in nature (nature does not en­
gender it), and where it is not already there from the first, it cannot
arise. It therefore becomes evident here, that although up to this
point nature is entirely similar to the intelligence, and traverses with
it the same sequence of powers, freedom, if it exists (though that it
does so, cannot be theoretically demonstrated), must be superior
(naiuraprior) to nature.
From this point onwards, therefore, we begin a new sequence of
acts, which are not possible through nature, and in fact leave it be­
hind.
The absolutely objective, or the law-governed nature of intuit­
ing, becomes an object to the self itself. But intuiting becomes an ob­
ject to the intuitant only through willing. The objective factor in will­
ing is intuiting as such, or the pure lawfulness of nature; the subjec­
tive factor, an ideal activity directed upon this lawfulness as such.
The act in which this occurs is the absolute act of will.
The absolute act of will itself in turn becomes an object to the
self, in that the objective element in willing, directed to something ex­
ternal, becomes an object to the self in the form of a natural urge,
while the subjective, directed to lawfulness as such, is objectified in
the form of absolute will, Le.t as a categorical imperative. But this,
too, is impossible without an activity superior to them both. This
236 System of Transcendental Idealism [633-34]

activity is choice, or free activity accompanied by consciousness.

But now if this consciously free activity, which in acting is op­
posed to the objective, although required to be one with it, is intuited
in its original identity with the objective~a thing utterly impossible
through freedom—we finally obtain by this the highest power of self­
intuition; and this, since it already lies out beyond the conditions of
consciousness, and is indeed itself the consciousness that creates itself
ah initio, must appear, where it exists, as absolutely contingent; and
this absolute contingency in the highest power of self-intuition is what
we designate by means of the idea otgenius.
These are the phases, unalterable and fixed for all knowledge, in
the history of self-consciousness; they are characterized in experience
by a continuous stepwise sequence, and they can be exhibited and ex­
tended from simple stuff to organization (whereby unconsciously pro­
ductive nature reverts into itself), and from thence by reason and
choice up to the supreme union of freedom and necessity in art
(whereby consciously productive nature encloses and completes itself).
Index
 Index

Absolute, xi, xix, xxiii-vi, xxviii, xxxi-v, 17, 115-19,

155t 190-1, 207, 209-11, 221, 230. see also Identity,
Synthesis
Abstraction, 134-44, 147*52,155,193
Acts, Actions, Activities (of the Self), xiii, xvii, xxvii-viii, xxx,
9, 24, 32, 35-49, 52-6, 60-85, 90-1, 94-103,113-16,122,
124,129-36,139,142,148-89,192-4,199, 205-6, 212-25,
228-36
Animal (and Vegetable), 123-4
Antinomies, 176
A priori (and A posteriori), xxvi, 93, 148, 150-4
Aristotelianism, 153
Arithmetic, 145
Art, xi, xxiv, xxviii-ix, 12, 223-4, 227-33, 236
Philosophy of, xv, xxii, xxiv, 4, 12, 14, 219, 229
Work of, 137-8, 219, 222-32
Artifact, 107, 137,172, 216, 227
Atheism, 209
Atomism, 92-3
Attraction, 85
Autonomy, 18, 157

Beauty, 225-7
Being, 16-19, 32, 35, 40, 57-8, 153, 185
Berkeley, G., 153
Breadth, 88

Categorical Imperative, 188,190, 235

Categories, 24, 87, 95,107,112,126,133,140-7,150-1,

179
240 System of Transcendental Idealism

Causality, 17, 57, 74,107,110-14, 122-3,126,129,133,

146,154,177-80,183-5,195, 202
Change, 186
Chemical process, 89, 126
Check, 73-4
Choice, xxvi, xxxi, 49,107> 190-4,198-200, 207-9, 212, 236
Coexistence, 111, 143, 150
Coleridge, S.T., xi
Concept, 9, 23, 25, 73,135-45, 147-55,158,161-3, 171-2,
175-8,1824 21647, 229
Consciousness, xvii, xxiii-vii, xxxii, 25, 32, 44, 47-8, 60, 65,
74-7, 95, 99,101,103,112-18,124-7,130,133-6,144,
148-51,154-8,161,164-5,168-75,179,184,187-90,
193-5, 201-4, 209-13, 217, 220-2, 226-36 see also
Self-consciousness, Unconscious
Constitution, 198-9

Death, 128
Demand, 163,188,190
Descartes, R., xv, 72
Despotism, 196
Destiny, see Fate
Determination, 10-11, 36, 59-60, 63-4, 70-1, 83, 96, 100,
108-10,117-18,139-40, 145-6,150,164-7,179,183,
189, 208 see also Predetermination, Self-determination
Determinism, xixt xxxi-ii
Dialecticv xiii-v
Dimensions, 86, 126
Dogmatism, 17-18, 35, 37, 43, 54, 58, 68, 70, 74
Drive, 166, 170, 177-8,185-6,194-5
 Index 241

Duty, 204-5

Education, 170
Electricity, 87-8, 91, 126
Empiricism, 61, 65, 70, 99, 122, 127
Ethics, xxxi, 189
Experience, xiv, xxv, 10, 92-3, 108, 136, 197
Extensity (and Intensity), 103-5, 111, 145,147

Facticity, xxv, 34
Fatalism, xxx, 209
Fate, 116,169, 204-5, 211-12, 222-3
Fichte, J.G., xi-xvii, xix-xxiii, xxv, xxvii-viii, xxxii, xxxiv, 28
Force, 79-81, 83-92,105,114,173» 197,199
Form (and Content), 20-1, 49-50, 122
Freedom, xi-xiii, xvii-xx, xxx, xxxii, 3, 24, 26-8, 30, 33,
35, 42, 47, 49, 65, 75, 102, 112,116-19, 128-32,140,
150,152,156-9,162-200, 203-25, 231, 235-6
Freud, S., xxxiii

Galvanism, 89, 126

Genius, 169t 222-4, 227-8, 236
Geometry, 28-9, 140, 143,145
God, xxi, xxvii, 47, 74,153,196, 206, 211-12
Gravitation, 6, 80-1, 85, 114, 119, 228

Happiness, 189,194
Harmony, Pre-established, xv, xviii, xxxi, 4, 11-12, 35,
129,154,161-5, 168, 174,180,192, 207-15, 217, 221,
223-6
242 System of Transcendental Idealism

Hearing, 123-4
Hegel, G.W.F., xv, xvii, xxxiv
Heidegger, M., xix> xxii, xxxiii
Hemsterhuis, F., 92
History, xv, xix-xx, xxiii, xxvi, xxx-i, xxxv, 4, 34,
198-203, 206-13, 231
Philosophy of, xiv, xvii, xix, 201
Hylozoism, 216

*1 ami xi, 8-9, 14, 26,31,34

(I think； 26
Idea, 138, 154, 176-8
Idealism, xviii, xxvi, xxix, 14, 34, 37, 41, 58, 70, 73-4,
92,107,116,118, 173,185
Transcendental, xi, xvii, xxii-iv, 1-4, 7, 10, 16-19,
27-9, 34-6,41, 47, 57-8, 90-4, 107, 116, 120,
122, 129,140, 151, 155-8,163, 168, 170,172,
182-5,188, 204,215-18, 233
Ideal-Realism, xii, xxii. 41
Identity, xi, xv-vi, xxii, xxiv, xxviii, xxx-iii, 4-5, 10,
12» 22-6, 29-31, 40, 45-6, 53, 72, 75, 78» 98, 113,
120, 126-8,135-6, 144, 153-4,159, 164, 177-81,
185,194,198» 208-14, 217-25, 229-35
System of, xviii-ix, xxii-iii, xxv, xxxv
Illness (and Health), 128-9
Image, 136-7
Imagination, xviii, 13-14, 51, 72, 76, 153» 176, 226, 230
Inclination, Natural, 185-6, 189-90,193-4, 235
Individuality, xx, xxvi, 31, 59-60, 116-17, 125, 128, 135,
142, 164-71,174,188-9,193-6, 200-9, 212, 235
Infinite, 82-3, 121, 144, 147, 176-7
Inner Sense, 13, 29, 98」00, 103-6,112, 132,141-7
 Index 243

Intelligence, xxvi, xxix, 3, 5, 7, 57, 59, 73-8, 90-4, 99,

105-31,134,138,142,144,148-67,171-3,180,184,
187-8,193, 20640, 213, 216-18, 221-2, 234
External, 161-74, 235
Intuition, xxiii, 3, 9,13, 58, 60, 70-82, 85, 94-8,104-5,
122,125・8,132-53,156-60,164-70,173-5,178-87,
191-3, 205-8, 213, 216-18, 224-6, 229-30, 235
Aesthetic, xv, xxiv, xxvii, xxxv, 12-13, 218-20,
226, 229, 231» 2 3 3
Inner (and Outer), 97-9, 103t 120, 127, 143, 147, 156,
172,218
Intellectual, xxiii-iv, xxvii, xxxv, 14, 27-9, 33)
98, 200, 229, 231-3
Productive, xiv, xxix, 70-9, 85, 99-100,106, 113,126,
132,136,142-9,156,175,181,189, 230, 234
of Self, 24, 27» 37-8, 40, 43, 52・6, 60-1, 67-70, 77-8,
90, 94-8,121-4,128,134,169,191, 221, 233-6
Sensory, 73-4. 79. 143
Irritability, 126

Judgment, 136-8, 140, 142, 148, 227

Kant, I., xi, xv-viii, xxi-iv, xxvii, xxxiv, 31, 85, 95,
99. 112. 176. 188. 191. 193. 216
Kepler, J., 228
Kielmeyer, 124
Knowledge, xxiii, xxx, xxxiv, 1-2, 5-7, 9-10. 15-23, 26-7,
30, 57, 73-4, 93,113,133,151-4,166,183-5
Science of, xi, xiii, xviii, xix, xxi, xxiii, xxv,
xxviii, xxxiv, 2, 16, 19, 21, 31, 34

Language, 137-8
Law, xii, xxxi, 6,14,128,157,169,185-6,189-92,195,
198-203, 20743, 216
Moral, 188-90,194 see also System
Leibniz, G.W. von, 35, 92,120,124, 129,154
Length, 86-9
Life, 124-7
244 System of Tra nscende nta 1 Idealism

Light, 75,124-5,127,153
Limitation (of Activity), xxvi, xxix, 16, 35-44, 47-73,
76-87, 90, 94, 97-102,106,115-18,121,123,125,
130*3,140-2,149-50,163-74,177-9, 232, 235
Locke, J.)154
Logic, 20-1, 24,140

Magnetism, 6, 86-8, 126

Malebranche, N., 153
Materialism, 57
Mathematics, 13, 80, 119, 143
Matter, 3, 26-7, 51-2, 57, 72, 74, 82-92, 113! 125-6, 153,
185,216
Mind and, 82, 90-2, 128
Means (and End), 172,178
Mechanism, 3-4, 6, 12, 35, 73-5, 126, 144,195-7, 200, 207,
215-16
Mind-Body Relation, 82, 128-9
Modality, 141-2
Monad, 35, 37, 92
Morality, 194-5, 227 see also Law
Motion, 120, 124-9,144-5,195
Mythology, xx, xxxvi, 138, 200, 225, 232-3

Nature, 2-7,12,17, 30, 52, 72, 91-2,107,112, 114t 124-7,

138» 159,169,173, 182,186, 192-201, 207, 211-12,
215-19, 225-7, 231-6
Organic, 122-7, 215-16
Philosophy of, xiv, xix, xxii, 2-3, 6-7
State of, 198
Necessity (and Contingency), 97, 105, 117, 150-1, 192, 195,
198-9, 202*7, 21042, 216, 220-1, 236
 Index 245

Newton, Sir I., 228

Nietzsche, F., xxv, xxxiii, xxxv
Not-Self, xxviii, 37, 54-6, 62
Nothing, 111
Number, 146-7,150

Objective (and Subjective), xii, xxix, 3, 5-11, 15, 17,

21-6, 30, 36, 42-5, 49, 51, 53» 57, 73, 85, 90,107,
131,136,173-4,179-93, 207-9, 21243, 217-19, 229,
232, 234
Obligation, 163,190
Opposition (Negation), 36-7, 44-55, 60-1, 68, 70, 72, 77-83,
89, 97, 100,105-6,10940,113-14,120,130-4,136,
141,144, 157, 171,176-7,181, 189-90, 210, 221, 225,
230-1
Optics, 6
Organism, xxii, 3, 73,107,112,122-30,135,153,168,
171,185, 218-19, 226
Organization, 122-7, 133» 156, 198, 234, 236
Orsini, G・，xi
Outer Sense, 98, 100, 103-6, 112, 132, 14L6

Pain, 186
Passivity, 37, 60-1, 64-7, 70-1, 78-9,100-1, 131-2,168,
171,194
Past, 117-19, 132, 201
Phenomenology (Hegel), xiv, xxiv, xxxiv
Philosophy, 7,14,18-19, 28, 49-50, 75, 80, 224, 229-33
Moral, 155
Practical, xv, xxiii, xxvi, 4, 11, 129, 149, 155, 157,
218
Theoretical, 50, 63, 134, 216
Theoretical and Practical, xii-iv, xvii-xx, 6,11, 33-5,
41» 50, 149,151,157-8,171, 201
Transcendental, see Idealism
246 System of Transcendental Idealism

Physics, 80, 87, 91-3,120,126

Plotinus,xxxiii
Poetiy, 14, 224, 230, 232
Possibility (and Actuality), 142,150-1,167
Powers, Separation of, 197-8
Predetermination, 192-3, 207-10
Prejudice, 2, 8-10
Present, 103, 107, 110, 115, 118-19, 121, 132, 163, 178, 201
Presentation, xiv, xvi, xviii, xxviii, 10-11, 23-5, 35, 48,
54-60, 734 107-14,118-29,133,137, 143,147, 154,
160, 164-5,174-5,178-9,183
Production, xxiii, 12-14, 27-32, 36, 38, 44, 46, 57-8, 64-9,
74-85, 94-101,104,106-7,111-15, 118-39,152,156-63,
171-84,199, 215-22, 228, 231
Aesthetic, 222-31
Progress, 199*204, 211
Providence, 196, 204-5, 209-12
Purposiveness, 4, 12, 172, 214-19, 225, 234

Quality (and Quantity), 146-7, 150

Real and Ideal (Activity), 40-3, 46, 49-52, 62・3, 67, 70-2,
98, 102, 131-2,149-50,157-8, 163,171-2,177,180-7,
232
Realism, xxvi, 14, 41, 58, 73, 116, 173 see also Dogmatism
Reason, xvi-vii, xx-xxi, xxv, xxxv, 6, 8, 117-18, 176, 192,
197, 200, 236
Practical, xvii
Reciprocity, 110-14,121, 126, 133,142, 146,150
Reflection, xiv, 6,13, 24, 48, 83, 95,130-1, 134-5,140-6,
150-1,157,171-3,176-9, 183, 188, 192, 209, 234
Reinhold, K.L., 28
Religion, xx, 209
Reproduction, 102
 Index 247

Restrictedness, see Limitation

Rights, 197, 206

Scepticism, 8, 15, 21
Schematism, xvi, 99, 136-8,140-50, 176
Schiller, F., xxxvi
Schopenhauer, A.,xxxiii, xxxv
Science, Natural, 3, 5-6,14,17, 30, 52, 81, 91, 227-8
Secondary Qualities, 179
Self, xii, xvii-viii, xxvii, xxx, xxxiv, 3, 5, 7, 25-57,
61-85, 90-119,127,13i・5, 138,146-9,152-8,162-3
174-81,184-94, 212-13, 217-20, 224, 230-5 see also
Intelligence, Intuition
Self-Consciousness, xiv, xxvii-xxx,*-xxiii-v, 2, 14-18, 25,
302 36-51, 56-61, 68-9, 73, 90, 94・5,115,122,131,
148,157-9,167,171,177-8,185, 188, 217, 233-4
History of, xxxiv, 2, 50, 90-2, 116, 236
Self-Determination, 155-62, 167, 173, 175, 187-95
Self-in-itself, 69-70, 75,181
Self-Interest, 189, 195
Sensation, 54-76, 91, 100, 103, 123-6, 132, 135, 149-50, 156, 234
Sense-object, 100, 173
Sensibility, 126
Sight, 25,123-4
Simultaneity, 111, 114
Sleep, 135
Soul, 153-4
Space, 28, 32, 58, 84, 103-8, 111, 120, 132, 135-7, 140-7,
150,164,173
Species, 200, 202, 205-9. 212
Spinoza, B., xix, xxxiii, 17
Spirit, xxxiv-v, 74, 128,169, 210, 232
248 System of Transcendental Idealism

State, 197-8, 212

Sublimity, 226
Substance (and Accident), 105-14, 121, 126, 141-6, 175, 179
Succession, 107-27,133,143,146-7,174,178,186, 200
Symbol, 136, 138,176
Synthesis, 22-3, 30, 42-51, 59-60, 72, 79, 82, 85, 104-6,112-25
134,141-2,145,148-50, 166-7, 170-1, 207-11, 225
System, xii-iv, xviii-xxiii, xxvii, xxxt 1-2, 4, 15, 18-19,
34, 73, 118-19, 197, 228, 232-3
Legal, 195-8, 202-3

Talent, 169-71, 228

Teleology, xv, xxiv, 3-4, 12, 214-17
Thickness, 88
Thing-in-itself, xviii, xxix, 9-10, 32, 54-5, 58, 61, 65,
68-72, 75-81, 91, 97, 99,101,119,131,170
Time, xvi, xxvi, xxxv, 32, 48, 84,103-11, 115-20, 132,
143-51, 156, 159, 164, 166, 168, 178
Touch, 124
Truth, 5, 8, 14-15, 23,164

Unconscious, xxvi, xxvii-xxxii, 58, 75, 77, 79, 90, 94, 100-1,
107,129,151,159, 170-1, 204-28, 231, 234, 236
Understanding, 73» 107,137,145,176
Unity (and Plurality), 146-7
Universe, 114-25, 142, 174 see also World

Will, xv, xix, xxvi, xxix-xxxi, 12,156, 162-3, 166-8,

171-6, 186-96, 204.7, 212, 235
World, External or Objective, xxvi, xxx, 3, 8-11, 14, 34-5,
48, 74, 95, 98, 118, 121,123,129, 135, 149» 151-4,
158, 164-5, 170,173-86, 192-6, 205, 210-16, 231-4
Intellectual 170
Moral, 167,196, 205-6
Political Order, xxxi. xxxv, 202-3
'This is a fine translation; it is the primary source of choice
to represent Schelling."
—Robert F. Brown, University of Delaware

'*This may be Schelling's clearest and most complete sys­

tematic work. The stress placed here on the role of art
makes this work of particular interest to aestheticians, and
it provides important clues to the development of philoso­
phy from Kant to Hegel." —Choice

'*The pivotal place of this text in the history of philosophy

and its mediation to nineteenth-century English literary
criticism, philosophy, and theology through Coleridge's
translations in the Biographia Literaria make this a wel­
come translation indeed. Its later interpretations by Tillich
and Heidegger among others establish its value for the
contemporary philosophical theologian."
—Religious Studies Review

SYSTEM OF TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM is probably

Schelling's most important philosophical work. A central text in the
history of German idealism, its original German publication in 1800
came seven years after Fichte's Wissenschaftslehre and seven years
before HegeFs Phenomenology of Spirit.

Peter Heath is Professor Emeritus of Philosophy at the University of

Virginia. Michael Vater is Associate Professor of Philosophy at
Marquette University.

ISBN O-aiaT-lHSd-E
University Press of Virginia
Charlottesville and London
www. upress.virginia. edu