The Philosophy of Spiritual Activity
GA 4
9. The Idea of Free Spiritual Activity
[ 1 ] The concept of a tree is conditioned by the perception of the tree. In response to a specific perception, I can only isolate a very specific concept from the general system of concepts. The relationship between concept and perception is determined indirectly and objectively by thinking about the perception. The connection between perception and its concept is recognized after the act of perception; however, their inherent connection is determined in the thing itself.
[ 2 ] The process presents itself differently when we consider cognition—specifically, the relationship between human beings and the world that arises within it. In the preceding discussion, an attempt has been made to show that this relationship can be clarified through an unbiased observation directed at it. A correct understanding of this observation leads to the insight that thinking can be directly perceived as a self-contained entity. Anyone who feels it necessary to invoke something else to explain thinking as such—such as physical brain processes, or unconscious mental processes lying behind the observed conscious thinking—misunderstands what the unbiased observation of thinking reveals. Whoever observes thinking lives, during the observation, directly within a spiritual, self-sustaining web of being. Indeed, one can say that whoever wishes to grasp the essence of the spiritual in the form in which it first presents itself to the human being zunächst can do so in thinking that rests upon itself.
[ 3 ] When we examine thought itself, two elements merge that would otherwise always appear separately: concept and perception. Whoever fails to see through this will be able to see in concepts derived from perceptions only shadowy reproductions of those perceptions, and the perceptions will present true reality to him. They will also construct a metaphysical world modeled on the perceived world; they will call this world the world of atoms, the world of will, the unconscious world of spirit, and so on, depending on their mode of imagination. And it will escape them that, with all this, they have merely constructed a metaphysical world hypothetically modeled on their world of perception. But whoever sees through what is at stake with regard to thinking will recognize that only a part of reality is present in perception and that the other part belonging to it—which is what makes it appear as full reality—is experienced in the thinking elaboration of perception. He will not see in that which appears as thought in consciousness a shadowy afterimage of reality, but a spiritual essence resting in itself. And of this he can say that it becomes present to him in consciousness through intuition. Intuition is the conscious experience of a purely spiritual content taking place within the purely spiritual realm. Only through intuition can the essence of thought be grasped.
[ 4 ] Only when one has struggled through to the recognition of this truth—gained through unbiased observation—regarding the intuitive nature of thinking, is it possible to clear the way for an understanding of the human physical-psychic organization. One recognizes that this organization cannot affect the essence of thinking. At first glance, the seems to contradict this obvious fact. In ordinary experience, human thinking appears only through and by means of this organization. This appearance asserts itself so strongly that its true significance can be grasped only by those who have recognized that nothing of this organization plays a role in the essential nature of thinking. Such a person, however, will then also be unable to fail to notice how peculiar the relationship between the human organism and thinking is. For the organism does not affect the essential nature of thinking; rather, when the activity of thinking arises, it withdraws; it suspends its own activity, it makes room; and in the space thus freed, thinking arises. The essential nature that operates in thinking has a twofold task: first, it pushes the human organism back in its own activity, and second, it takes its place. For even the first—the pushing back of the physical organism—is a consequence of the activity of thinking. Specifically, of that part of it which prepares the appearance of thinking. From this one can see in what sense thinking finds its counterpart in the physical organism. And once one sees this, one will no longer be able to misjudge the significance of this counterpart for thinking itself. When one walks over soft ground, one’s footprints sink into the ground. One will not be tempted to say that the shapes of the footprints were driven by forces from the ground, rising from below. One will not attribute to these forces any part in the formation of the footprints. Nor will anyone who observes the nature of thinking impartially attribute to the traces in the physical organism any part of this nature, which arise because thinking prepares its manifestation through the body. 1The author has described in various ways, in writings that followed this book, how the above view asserts itself within psychology, physiology, etc. Here, only what results from the unbiased observation of thinking itself should be indicated.
[ 5 ] But a significant question arises here. If the essence of thought plays no part in the human organism, what significance does this organism have within the total being of the human person? Well, what happens in this organization through thinking has nothing to do with the essence of thinking itself, but rather with the emergence of ego-consciousness from this thinking. Within the inner nature of thinking lies the true “I,” but not ego-consciousness. This is understood by those who observe thinking impartially. The “I” is to be found within thinking; “I-consciousness” arises because the traces of thought activity in the sense described above become imprinted in the general consciousness. (I-consciousness thus arises through the physical organization. But this should not be confused with the assertion that, once it has arisen, self-consciousness remains dependent on the physical constitution. Once it has arisen, it is incorporated into thinking and henceforth shares in its spiritual essence.)
[ 6 ] “Self-consciousness” is based on the human organism. Acts of the will flow from this. In line with the preceding explanations, an insight into the connection between thinking, the conscious self, and acts of the will can only be gained by first observing how acts of the will arise from the human organism. 2Pages 142 through the passage above constitute an addition or revision for the new edition (1918).
[ 7 ] For each individual act of volition, the following factors come into play: the motive and the driving force. The motive is a conceptual or imaginative factor; the driving force is the factor of volition that is directly determined by the human organism. The conceptual factor or motive is the immediate determinant of volition; the driving force is the enduring determinant of the individual. The motive of volition can be a pure concept or a concept with a specific reference to perception, which is a mental image. General and individual concepts (mental images) become motives of volition in that they act upon the human individual and determine the individual to act in a certain direction. However, one and the same concept, or one and the same mental image, acts differently upon different individuals. They prompt different people to different actions. Willing is thus not merely a result of the concept or the mental image, but also of the individual nature of the person. We shall call this individual nature—and here we may follow Eduard von Hartmann—the characterological disposition. The way in which concepts and mental images act upon a person’s characterological disposition gives their life a certain moral or ethical character.
[ 8 ] Characterological disposition is formed by the more or less enduring substance of our subject’s life, that is, by the content of our mental images and feelings. Whether a mental image currently arising within me stimulates a volition depends on how it relates to the rest of my mental content and also to my emotional characteristics. My mental images, however, are in turn determined by the sum of those concepts that have come into contact with perceptions in the course of my individual life—that is, have become mental images. This, in turn, depends on my greater or lesser capacity for intuition and on the scope of my observations—that is, on the subjective and objective factors of experience, on inner determination, and on the setting of life. My characterological disposition is determined in a very special way by my emotional life. Whether I experience joy or pain in connection with a particular mental image or concept will determine whether I wish to make it the motive for my action or not. — These are the elements that come into play in an act of will. The immediately present mental image or concept that becomes the motive determines the goal, the purpose of my volition; my characterological disposition determines that I direct my activity toward this goal. The mental image of taking a walk in the next half-hour determines the goal of my action. However, this mental image is elevated to the motive of volition only if it encounters a suitable characterological disposition—that is, if, through my life up to this point, mental images have formed within me regarding the usefulness of going for a walk, the value of health, and furthermore, if the feeling of pleasure is associated with the mental image of going for a walk within me.
[ 9 ] We must therefore distinguish between: 1. The potential subjective dispositions that are capable of turning certain mental images and concepts into motives; and 2. the potential mental images and concepts that are capable of influencing my characterological disposition in such a way that a volition arises. The former represent the driving forces, the latter the goals of morality.
[ 10 ] We can identify the driving forces of morality by examining the elements that make up individual life.
[ 11 ] The first stage of individual life is perception, specifically sensory perception. Here we are in that region of our individual life where perception is immediately transformed into volition, without the intervention of a feeling or a concept. The driving force of the human being that comes into play here is referred to simply as the drive. The satisfaction of our lower, purely animal needs (hunger, sexual intercourse, etc.) comes about in this way. The characteristic feature of the life of the drives consists in the immediacy with which individual perception triggers volition. This mode of determining volition, which is originally peculiar only to the lower sensory life, can also be extended to the perceptions of the higher senses. We allow an action to follow the perception of some event in the external world without further thought and without any particular feeling being attached to the perception, as happens notably in conventional social interaction. The driving force behind this action is referred to as tact or moral taste. The more often such an immediate triggering of an action by a perception takes place, the more suited the person in question will prove to be to acting purely under the influence of tact; that is to say, tact becomes part of their characterological disposition.
[ 12 ] The second sphere of human life is feeling. Certain feelings are linked to our perceptions of the external world. These feelings can become the driving forces behind our actions. When I see a starving person, my compassion for them can serve as the driving force behind my actions. Such feelings include: shame, pride, honor, humility, remorse, compassion, vengeance, gratitude, piety, loyalty, love, and a sense of duty. 3A complete compilation of the principles of morality can be found (from the standpoint of metaphysical realism) in Eduard von Hartmann’s “Phenomenology of Moral Consciousness”
[ 13 ] The third stage of life, finally, is thinking and imagining. Through mere reflection, a mental image or a concept can become the motive for an action. Mental images become motives because, in the course of life, we continually link certain goals of volition to perceptions that recur in a more or less modified form. This is why, in people who are not entirely without experience, certain perceptions are always accompanied by the mental images of actions that they have performed or seen performed in a similar situation. These mental images remain before them as determining patterns in all subsequent decisions; they become elements of their characterological disposition. We can call the driving force of volition thus described practical experience. Practical experience gradually gives way to purely tactful action. When certain typical images of actions have become so firmly linked in our consciousness with mental images of certain life situations that, in a given case, we pass directly from perception to volition, bypassing all consideration based on experience, then this is the case.
[ 14 ] The highest stage of individual life is conceptual thinking independent of any specific perceptual content. We determine the content of a concept through pure intuition from the ideal sphere. Such a concept initially contains no reference to specific perceptions. When, under the influence of a concept that points to a perception—that is, a mental image—we enter into volition, it is this perception that determines us indirectly through conceptual thinking. When we act under the influence of intuitions, the driving force of our action is pure thinking. Since one is accustomed to designating the pure faculty of thought in philosophy as reason, it is surely also justified to call the moral motive force characterized at this level practical reason. Kreyenbühl (Philosophische Monatshefte, Vol. XVIII, Issue 3). I count his essay on this subject among the most significant works of contemporary philosophy, particularly in the field of ethics. Kreyenbühl describes the motivating force in question as practical a priori, that is, an impulse to act flowing directly from my intuition.
[ 15 ] It is clear that such a drive can no longer be considered, in the strict sense of the word, to belong to the realm of characterological dispositions. For what acts as a driving force here is no longer merely something individual within me, but rather the ideal and, consequently, universal content of my intuition. As soon as I regard the validity of this content as the basis and starting point of an action, I enter into volition, regardless of whether the concept was already present in me at an earlier time or only enters my consciousness immediately before the action—that is, regardless of whether it was already present in me as a disposition or not.
[ 16 ] A true act of volition occurs only when an immediate impulse to act, in the form of a concept or a mental image, influences one’s characterological disposition. Such an impulse then becomes the motive of volition.
[ 17 ] The motives of morality are mental images and concepts. There are moral philosophers who also see emotion as a motive of morality; they claim, for example, that the goal of moral action is to promote the greatest possible amount of pleasure in the acting individual. Pleasure itself, however, cannot be a motive, but only an imagined pleasure. The mental image of a future feeling, but not the feeling itself, can influence my characterological disposition. For the feeling itself is not yet present at the moment of action; rather, it is to be brought about by the action.
[ 18 ] The mental image of one’s own or another’s well-being is, however, rightly regarded as a motive for volition. The principle of bringing about the greatest sum of one’s own pleasure through one’s actions—that is, of achieving individual happiness—is called egoism. This individual happiness is sought either by being ruthlessly concerned only with one’s own well-being and striving for it even at the expense of the happiness of other individuals (pure egoism), or by promoting the welfare of others on the grounds that one then indirectly expects a favorable influence on one’s own person from the happy individuals, or because one fears that harming others might also endanger one’s own interests (pragmatic morality). The specific content of egoistic moral principles will depend on the mental image a person has of their own or others’ happiness. Depending on what one regards as a good in life (a good life, hope for happiness, deliverance from various evils, etc.), one will determine the content of their egoistic striving.
[ 19 ] Another motive to be considered is the purely conceptual content of an action. Unlike the mental image of one’s own pleasure, this content does not refer to the individual act alone, but to the justification of an act based on a system of moral principles. These moral principles can regulate moral life in the form of abstract concepts, without the individual concerning himself with the origin of the concepts. We then simply perceive submission to the moral concept, which hovers over our actions as a commandment, as a moral necessity. We leave the justification of this necessity to the one who demands moral submission—that is, to the moral authority we recognize (head of the family, state, social custom, ecclesiastical authority, divine revelation). A special type of these moral principles is one in which the commandment is not revealed to us by an external authority, but through our own inner self (moral autonomy). We then hear the voice within ourselves to which we must submit. The expression of this voice is the conscience.
[ 20 ] It constitutes moral progress when a person does not simply make the command of an external or internal authority the motive for his actions, but rather strives to understand the reason why a particular maxim of action should serve as a motive within him. This progress is the transition from authoritative morality to action based on moral insight. At this stage of morality, a person will seek out the needs of the moral life and allow the recognition of these needs to determine his actions. Such needs are: 1. the greatest possible good of all humanity purely for the sake of that good; 2. cultural progress or the moral development of humanity toward ever greater perfection; 3. the realization of individual moral goals grasped purely intuitively.
[ 21 ] The greatest possible good for all humanity will, of course, be understood differently by different people. The above maxim does not refer to a specific mental image of this good, but rather to the fact that every individual who accepts this principle strives to do what, in his or her view, most promotes the good of all humanity.
[ 22 ] Cultural progress proves to be a special case of the previous moral principle for those who associate a sense of pleasure with the benefits of culture. They will simply have to accept the decline and destruction of certain things that also contribute to the good of humanity. However, it is also possible that someone might view cultural progress, apart from the pleasure associated with it, as a moral necessity. In that case, it constitutes a distinct moral principle for them alongside the previous one.
[ 23 ] Both the maxim of the general good and that of cultural progress are based on the mental image—that is, on the relationship—that one assigns to the content of moral ideas in relation to specific experiences (perceptions). The highest conceivable moral principle, however, is one that does not contain such a relationship from the outset, but springs from the source of pure intuition and only subsequently seeks a relationship to perception (to life). The determination of what is to be willed proceeds here from a different source than in the preceding cases. Whoever adheres to the moral principle of the greatest good will, in all his actions, first ask what his ideals contribute to this greatest good. Whoever professes the moral principle of cultural progress will do the same here. There is, however, a higher principle that does not proceed from a specific moral goal in each individual case, but which assigns a certain value to all moral maxims and, in a given case, always asks whether one or the other moral principle is the more important one. It may happen that, under certain circumstances, a person regards the promotion of cultural progress, in others the promotion of the common good, and in a third case the promotion of one’s own well-being as the right course of action and makes it the motive for their conduct. But when all other determining factors take second place, then conceptual intuition itself comes into play first and foremost. Thus, the other motives step down from their leading position, and only the conceptual content of the action serves as its motive.
[ 24 ] Among the levels of characterological disposition, we have identified as the highest that which functions as pure thought, as practical reason. Among the motives, we have now identified conceptual intuition as the highest. Upon closer consideration, it soon becomes clear that at this level of morality, the driving force and the motive coincide; that is, neither a predetermined characterological disposition nor an external, normatively accepted moral principle influences our actions. The action is therefore not a formulaic one carried out according to any rules, nor is it one that a person performs automatically in response to an external stimulus, but rather one determined purely by its ideal content.
[ 25 ] Such an act presupposes the capacity for moral intuition. Anyone who lacks the ability to experience the specific moral maxim in each individual case will never be able to achieve truly individual volition.
[ 26 ] The direct opposite of this moral principle is Kant’s: Act in such a way that the maxims of your actions could apply to all human beings. This maxim is the death of all individual motives for action. It is not how all people would act that can be decisive for me, but rather what I must do in that individual case.
[ 27 ] A superficial judgment might perhaps object to these remarks: How can an action be shaped individually by the specific case and situation, and yet be determined purely ideally by intuition? This objection is based on a confusion between the moral motive and the perceptible content of the action. The latter can be a motive, and indeed is one, for example, in cultural progress, in acting out of selfishness, etc.; in acting on the basis of purely moral intuition, it is not. My ego naturally directs its gaze toward this perceptual content, but it does not allow itself to be determined by it. This content is used only to form a concept of knowledge; the ego does not derive the corresponding moral concept from the object. The concept of knowledge derived from a specific situation I am facing is only simultaneously a moral concept if I stand on the standpoint of a specific moral principle. If I were to stand solely on the ground of the morality of general cultural development, then I would go about the world with a predetermined course. From every event that I perceive and that may concern me, a moral duty arises at the same time; namely, to do my part so that the event in question may be placed in the service of cultural development. In addition to the concept that reveals to me the natural-law connection of an event or thing, the latter have also been imbued with a moral etiquette that contains, for me, the moral being, an ethical instruction on how I am to behave. This moral label is justified within its own domain, but from a higher vantage point it coincides with the idea that dawns on me in relation to the concrete case.
[ 28 ] People differ in their intuitive abilities. For some, ideas come easily; others must work hard to acquire them. The situations in which people live, and which provide the setting for their actions, are no less diverse. How a person acts will therefore depend on the way in which their intuitive capacity responds to a particular situation. The sum of the ideas at work within us—the real content of our intuitions—constitutes what, despite the universality of the world of ideas, is unique to each individual. Insofar as this intuitive content relates to action, it constitutes the moral substance of the individual. The realization of this substance is the highest moral driving force and, at the same time, the highest motive of the person who recognizes that all other moral principles ultimately converge in this substance. One may call this standpoint ethical individualism.
[ 29 ] The defining feature of an intuitively determined action in a specific case is the discovery of the corresponding, entirely individual intuition. At this stage of morality, one can speak of general moral concepts (norms, laws) only insofar as these arise from the generalization of individual impulses. General norms always presuppose concrete facts from which they can be derived. However, it is through human action that facts are first created.
[ 30 ] When we seek out the lawful (the conceptual aspect of the actions of individuals, peoples, and eras), we arrive at an ethics, but not as a science of moral norms, rather as a natural science of morality. Only the laws thus derived relate to human action in the same way that the laws of nature relate to a particular phenomenon. However, they are by no means identical to the impulses upon which we base our actions. If one wishes to grasp how a human action arises from one’s moral will, one must first consider the relationship of this will to the action. One must first consider actions in which this relationship is the determining factor. When I or another person later reflect on such an action, it may become clear which moral maxims are relevant to it. While I am acting, the moral maxim moves me, insofar as it can live intuitively within me; it is connected to the love for the object that I wish to realize through my action. I do not ask any person or any rule: “Should I perform this action?”—but I perform it as soon as I have conceived the idea of it. Only in this way is it my action. Whoever acts merely because he acknowledges certain moral norms, his action is the result of the principles contained in his moral code. He is merely the executor. He is a higher automaton. Present a cause for action to his consciousness, and immediately the machinery of his moral principles sets in motion and runs its course in a lawful manner to accomplish a Christian, humane, selfless act, or an act of cultural-historical progress. Only when I follow my love for the object am I myself the one who acts. At this stage of morality, I do not act because I acknowledge a master over me, nor an external authority, nor a so-called inner voice. I do not acknowledge any external principle of my action, because I have found within myself the reason for the action: love for the action itself. I do not rationally examine whether my action is good or evil; I carry it out because I love it. It becomes “good” when my intuition, steeped in love, is rightly situated within the context of the world as intuitively experienced; “evil” when that is not the case. Nor do I ask myself: how would another person act in my situation? — but rather I act as I, this particular individuality, feel compelled to do. It is not the generally accepted norm, the common custom, a universal human maxim, or a moral standard that guides me directly, but my love for the act. I feel no compulsion—not the compulsion of nature that guides me in my instincts, nor the compulsion of moral commandments—but I simply wish to carry out what lies within me.
[ 31 ] Defenders of universal moral standards might respond to these remarks by saying: If every person merely strives to live life to the fullest and do whatever they please, then there is no difference between a good deed and a crime; every mischievous impulse within me has just as much a right to be lived out as the intention to serve the common good. It is not the fact that I have conceived of an action in theory that can be decisive for me as a moral person, but rather the examination of whether it is good or evil. Only in the former case will I carry it out.
[ 32 ] My response to this obvious objection—which, however, stems solely from a misunderstanding of what is meant here—is as follows: Anyone who wishes to understand the nature of human volition must distinguish between the path that brings this volition to a certain degree of development and the character that volition assumes as it approaches this goal. On the path to this goal, norms play their rightful role. The goal consists in the realization of moral goals grasped purely intuitively. Human beings achieve such goals to the extent that they possess the ability to rise at all to the intuitive content of the world. In individual acts of volition, something other than such goals will usually be mixed in as a driving force or motive. But the intuitive can still be decisive or co-determining in human volition. What one ought to do, one does; one provides the setting in which ought becomes action; one’s own action is what one allows to spring forth from oneself as such. The impulse there can only be a wholly individual one. And in truth, only an act of will springing from intuition can be an individual one. That the criminal’s deed, that evil, is called an expression of individuality in the same sense as the embodiment of pure intuition, is only possible if blind drives are counted among human individuality. But the blind instinct that drives one to crime does not stem from the intuitive, and does not belong to the individuality of the human being, but to the most general aspect within him, to that which applies equally to all individuals and from which the human being works his way out through his individuality. The individual in me is not my organism with its drives and feelings, but rather the unique world of ideas that shines forth in this organism. My drives, instincts, and passions establish nothing more in me than that I belong to the general genus human; the fact that an ideal element expresses itself in these drives, passions, and feelings in a particular way constitutes my individuality. Through my instincts and drives, I am a human being, of whom there are a dozen; through the particular form of the idea by which I designate myself as “I” within that dozen, I am an individual. Given the diversity of my animal nature, only a being foreign to me could distinguish me from others; through my thinking—that is, through the active grasping of what manifests as the ideal in my organism—I distinguish myself from others. One cannot, therefore, say that the criminal’s action arises from the idea. Indeed, this is precisely the characteristic feature of criminal acts: that they derive from the non-ideal elements of the human being.
[ 33 ] An action is perceived as free to the extent that its motive arises from the ideal part of my individual being; every other aspect of an action, whether it is performed under the compulsion of nature or the coercion of a moral norm, is perceived as unfree.
[ 34 ] A person is free only insofar as he is capable of following his own will at every moment of his life. A moral act is only my act if, in this sense, it can be called a free one. Here, we are first discussing the conditions under which a deliberate act is perceived as free; how this purely ethical concept of freedom is realized in human nature will become clear in what follows.
[ 35 ] An action performed out of freedom does not exclude moral laws, but rather includes them; it simply proves to be superior to an action dictated solely by those laws. Why should my action serve the common good any less if I have done it out of love than if I have performed it merely because I regard serving the common good as a duty? The mere concept of duty excludes freedom because it refuses to acknowledge the individual, but demands the subjugation of the latter to a general norm. Freedom of action is conceivable only from the standpoint of ethical individualism.
[ 36 ] But how is human coexistence possible if everyone is solely concerned with asserting their individuality? This is characteristic of an objection rooted in a misunderstanding of moralism. Such moralism believes that a community of people is possible only if they are all united by a commonly established moral order. This moralism simply does not understand the unity of the world of ideas. It fails to grasp that the world of ideas active within me is none other than that within my fellow human beings. This unity is, admittedly, merely a result of worldly experience. Yet it must be such. For if it were to be recognized through anything other than observation, then what would prevail in its realm would not be individual experience, but a general norm. Individuality is only possible if each individual being knows the other solely through individual observation. The difference between me and my fellow human being lies by no means in the fact that we live in two entirely different mental worlds, but rather that he derives different intuitions from the world of ideas we share than I do. He wishes to live out his intuitions, I mine. If we both truly draw from the idea and follow no external (physical or mental) impulses, then we can only encounter one another in the same striving, in the same intentions. A moral misunderstanding, a clash, is impossible among morally free people. Only the morally unfree person, who follows natural instinct or an assumed duty, rejects his fellow man if he does not follow the same instinct and the same command. Living in the love of action and letting live in the understanding of another’s will is the fundamental maxim of free people. They know no other duty than that with which their will comes into intuitive harmony; how they will act in a particular case, their power of thought will tell them.
[ 37 ] If the foundation for harmony were not inherent in human nature, no external laws could instill it! It is only because human individuals are of one spirit that they can coexist. The free person lives in the confidence that the other free person belongs with him to a spiritual world and will meet him in his intentions. The free person does not demand agreement from his fellow human beings, but he expects it because it lies in human nature. This does not refer to the necessities that exist for this or that external institution, but to the disposition, to the state of mind, through which a person most fully lives up to human dignity in their self-experience among fellow human beings they value.
[ 37 ] If the foundation for harmony were not inherent in human nature, no external laws could instill it! It is only because human individuals are of one spirit that they can coexist. The free person lives in the confidence that the other free person belongs with him to a spiritual world and will meet him in his intentions. The free person does not demand agreement from his fellow human beings, but he expects it because it lies in human nature. This does not refer to the necessities that exist for this or that external institution, but to the disposition, to the state of mind, through which a person most fully lives up to human dignity in their self-experience among fellow human beings they value.
[ 37 ] If the foundation for harmony were not inherent in human nature, no external laws could instill it! It is only because human individuals are of one spirit that they can coexist. The free person lives in the confidence that the other free person belongs with him to a spiritual world and will meet him in his intentions. The free person does not demand agreement from his fellow human beings, but he expects it because it lies in human nature. This does not refer to the necessities that exist for this or that external institution, but to the disposition, to the state of mind, through which a person most fully lives up to human dignity in their self-experience among fellow human beings they value.
[ 40 ] “That is an ideal,” many will say. Undoubtedly, but one that works its way to the surface of our being as a real element. It is not a conceived or imagined ideal, but one that has life and makes itself clearly felt even in the most imperfect form of its existence. If human beings were mere natural beings, then the pursuit of ideals—that is, of ideas that are currently ineffective but whose realization is demanded—would be an absurdity. In the case of things in the external world, the idea is determined by perception; we have done our part when we have recognized the connection between idea and perception. With human beings, this is not the case. The sum of their existence is not determined without them; their true concept as a moral human being (free spirit) is not objectively united in advance with the perceptual image of “human being,” only to be established afterward through cognition. Human beings must actively unite their concept with the perception of “human being.” Concept and perception coincide here only if human beings themselves bring them into alignment. But they can do so only if they have found the concept of the free spirit—that is, their own concept. In the objective world, our organization draws a boundary between perception and concept; cognition overcomes this boundary. In the subjective realm, this boundary is no less present; human beings overcome it in the course of their development by giving form to their concept in their appearance. Thus, both the intellectual and the moral life of human beings lead us to their dual nature: perception (immediate experience) and thought. The intellectual life overcomes this dual nature through cognition; the moral life through the actual realization of the free spirit. Every being has its innate concept (the law of its being and activity); but in external things it is inseparably linked to perception and is separated from it only within our spiritual organism. In human beings themselves, concept and perception are initially actually separated, only to be actually united by them. One might object: our perception of a human being corresponds at every moment of his life to a certain concept, just as it does for every other thing. I can form the concept of a stereotypical human being and may also have such a concept as a given in my perception; if I add to this the concept of the free spirit, I have two concepts for the same object.
[ 41 ] That is a one-sided way of thinking. As an object of perception, I am subject to constant change. As a child, I was different; different as a young man, and different as an adult. Yes, at every moment, the image I perceive is different from the one before. These changes can take place in such a way that they merely express the same person (a stereotypical human being), or they can represent the expression of a free spirit. The object of perception in my actions is subject to these changes.
[ 42 ] The human being, as an object of perception, possesses the potential to transform itself, just as a plant seed possesses the potential to become a fully grown plant. The plant will transform itself due to the objective law inherent within it; the human being remains in an unfinished state unless he takes up the material for transformation within himself and transforms himself through his own power. Nature makes of man merely a natural being; society makes him a being that acts in accordance with laws; he can only make himself a free being by his own efforts. Nature releases man from its bonds at a certain stage of his development; society carries this development forward to a further point; the final touch can be given only by man himself.
[ 43 ] The perspective of free morality does not, therefore, claim that the free spirit is the only form in which a human being can exist. It regards free spirituality merely as the final stage of human development. This does not deny that acting in accordance with norms has its justification as a stage of development. It simply cannot be recognized as an absolute moral standpoint. The free spirit, however, transcends norms in the sense that it does not merely perceive commandments as motives, but rather directs its actions according to its impulses (intuitions).
[ 44 ] When Kant speaks of duty: “Duty! You sublime, great name, which contains nothing pleasing, nothing that carries flattery within you, but demands submission,” you who “establish a law... ...before which all inclinations fall silent, even if they secretly oppose it,” then man responds from the consciousness of the free spirit: “Freedom! You friendly, human name, which encompasses all that is morally beloved and most cherished by my humanity, and makes me no one’s servant; you who not only establish a law, but await what my moral love itself will recognize as law, because it feels unfree in the face of any law that is merely imposed.”
[ 45 ] This is the opposite of mere legal and free morality.
[ 46 ] The philistine, who sees embodied morality in what is externally established, may even view the free spirit as a dangerous person. But he does so only because his perspective is confined to a specific historical era. If he could look beyond it, he would immediately find that the free spirit has just as little need to go beyond the laws of his state as the Philistine himself, but never to place himself in real contradiction with them. For the laws of the state have all sprung from the intuitions of free spirits, just as all other objective moral laws have. No law is enforced by family authority that has not first been intuitively grasped and established as such by an ancestor; even the conventional laws of morality are first established by specific individuals; and the laws of the state always arise in the mind of a statesman. These minds have established the laws over other people, and only those who forget this origin become unfree, turning them either into superhuman commandments, into objective moral concepts of duty independent of the human, or into the commanding voice of their own inner self, conceived in a falsely mystical and coercive manner. But whoever does not overlook the origin, but seeks it in human beings, will regard it as a part of the same world of ideas from which he also draws his moral intuitions. If he believes he has better ones, he seeks to replace the existing ones with them; if he finds the existing ones justified, then he acts in accordance with them, as if they were his own.
[ 47 ] We must not adopt the notion that human beings exist to bring about a moral world order separate from themselves. Anyone who asserted this would, with regard to the science of humanity, still be standing on the same ground as that branch of natural science which believed that the bull has horns so that it can gore. Natural scientists have fortunately consigned such a concept of purpose to the dustbin of history. Ethics finds it harder to free itself from it. But just as the horns are not there for the sake of goring, but rather goring through the horns, so too is the human being not there for the sake of morality, but rather morality through the human being. The free human being acts morally because he has a moral idea; but he does not act so that morality may come into being. Human individuals, with the moral ideas inherent in their nature, are the prerequisite for the moral world order.
[ 48 ] The human individual is the source of all morality and the center of earthly life. The state and society exist only because they arise as a necessary consequence of individual life. That the state and society then have a reciprocal effect on individual life is just as understandable as the fact that the impact exerted by the horns has a reciprocal effect on the further development of the bull’s horns, which would atrophy if left unused for a long time. Likewise, the individual would wither away if he led a secluded existence outside the human community. This is precisely why social order comes into being—to exert a beneficial influence back upon the individual.