The work begins with an antinomy-like conflict between the inner sense of free will and the external sense that the world is completely determined. As he puts it, âIn immediate consciousness, I appear to myself as free; by reflection on the whole of Nature, I discover that freedom is absolutely impossible.â Add then to this dynamic equation the notion the only immediate knowledge of which we are capable is that of our own mind: âIn all perception you perceive your own state.â What you get is the sum and substance of Fichteâs conclusions and the beginning of the departure, in the nineteenth century, from Kant, namely, the notion that the idea of things in themselves, the noumena, the ding-an-sich, are themselves but projections of the mind and, therefore, not something to which the consciousness mind is bound. Though it appears to be! This insight also opens the door to subsequent developments in philosophy that would come to be known as existentialism, predicated on the notion that the boundary by which we ordinarily distinguish self from other on the basis of what we can control apparently by a conscious act of will and what we cannot, is even if necessary for the having of experience, as Kant thought, an inauthentic way for the mind to relate to itself and the world.
What, then, is reality according to Fichte? What it means for something, anything, to be realâtake, for instance, the chair on which you sitâis that it consists of all possible experiences that the object as such can generate within the mind of a potential observer. Take the chair apart, look at it from every angle, hit it, use it in various ways, the fact is that the reason you can perform any such acts with the chair is that the chair is a containing space of all possibilities of the object in relation to the perceiving subject. The universe itself according to Fichte is an Absolute Idea, animated by an act of consciousness which then unfolds one state into the next.
1.
Attend to yourself; turn your glance away from all that surrounds you and upon your own innermost self. Such is the first demand which philosophy makes of its disciples. We speak of nothing that is without you, but wholly of yourself.
In the most fleeting self-observation every one must perceive a marked difference between the var ious immediate determinations of his consciousness, which we may also call representations. Some of them appear entirely dependent upon our freedom, and it is impossible for us to believe that there is anything without us corresponding to them. Our imagination, our will, appears to us as free. Others, however, we refer to a truth, as their model, which is held to be established, independent of us; and in the attempt to determine such representations, we find ourselves conditioned by the necessity of their harmony with this truth. In the knowledge of their contents we do not consider ourselves free. In brief, we can say, some of our representations are accompanied by the feeling of freedom, others by the feeling of necessity.
The question cannot reasonably arise: why are the representations, which are directly dependent upon our freedom, determined in precisely this manner and not otherwise? For when it is affirmed that they are dependent upon our freedom, all application of the conception of a ground is dismissed; they are thus, because I have so determined them, and if I had determined them otherwise, then they would be different. But it is certainly a question worthy of reflection: what is the ground of the system of those representations which are accompanied by the feelings of necessity and of that feeling of necessity itself? To answer this question is the task of philosophy; and, in my opinion, nothing is philosophy but the science which solves this problem. The system of those representations which are accompanied by the feeling of necessity is also called experience: internal as well as external experience. Philosophy has thereforeâto express the same thing in other wordsâto discover the ground of all experience.
Only three distinct objections can be raised against what has here been stated. Someone might deny that representations, accompanied by the feeling of necessity, and referred to a truth determined without our aid, are ever present in our consciousness. Such a person would either make the denial against better knowledge or be differently constituted from other men. In the latter case there would also be nothing for him that he denied, and hence no denial. We could therefore dismiss his protest without further ceremony. Or someone might say: the question raised is entirely unanswerable, we are and must remain in insuperable ignorance concerning it. To enter upon an argument with such a person is wholly superfluous. He is best refuted by an actual answer to the question; then all he can do is to test our attempt and to state where and why it appears to him insufficient. Finally, some one might dispute about the designation, and assert: philosophy is something else, or at least something more, than what you have above stated. It might easily be proved to such a one, that scholars have at all times regarded exactly what has here been stated, to be philosophy, and that whatever else he might set up for it has already another name; that if this word is to signify anything at all, it must mean precisely this particular science.
Since, however, we are unwilling to enter upon any unfruitful controversy about words, we have on our part already abandoned the name of philosophy, and have called the science which has, properly speaking, the solution of the problem here indicated for its object, the Science of Knowledge.
2.
Only when speaking of something regarded as accidental, that is, which we suppose might also have been otherwise, though it was not determined by freedom, can we inquire concerning a ground. And precisely because of this asking concerning its ground does it become accidental to the inquirer. The problem involved in seeking the ground of anything means to find something else, from the special nature of which it can be seen why the accidental, among the manifold determinations which might have come to it, assumed precisely the one it did. The ground lies, by virtue of the mere thought of a ground, outside of that which is grounded; and both are, in so far as they are the ground and the grounded, opposed to each other, related to each other, and thus the latter is explained from the former.
Now philosophy seeks to discover the ground of all experience; hence its object lies necessarily beyond all experience. This proposition applies to all philosophy, and has also actually been so applied, down to the period of the Kantians and their facts of consciousness, that is, of inner experience.
No objection can be raised against the proposition here set forth; for the premise to our conclusion is a mere analysis of the above-stated conception of philosophy and from it the conclusion is drawn. If someone possibly should remind us that the conception of a ground must be differently explained, we certainly could not prevent him from forming another conception of it if he chooses; but we affirm with equal right, that in the above description of philosophy we wish nothing else to be understood by that word but what has been stated. Hence, if this meaning is not permitted, the possibility of philosophy, as we have described it, must be altogether denied; and to such a denial we have already made reply in our first section.
3.
The finite intelligence has nothing outside of experience. This it is that yields the entire material of its thinking. The philosopher is subject necessarily to similar conditions, and hence it appears inconceivable how he can raise himself above experience.
But he can abstract; that is to say, he can separate by the freedom of thinking what is united in experience. In experience, the thing, or, that which is to be determined independently of our freedom and in accordance with which our knowledge is to shape itself, and the intelligence, or that which is to acquire a knowledge of it, are inseparably united. The philosopher may abstract from both, and if he does, he has abstracted from experience and lifted himself above it. If he abstracts from the first, he retains an intelligence in itself, that is, abstracted from its relation to experience; if he abstracts from the latter, he retains the thing in itself, that is, abstracted from the fact that it occurs in experience. He thus retains either the intelligence in itself, or the thing-in-itself, as the ground of explanation of experience. The former mode of procedure is called idealism, the latter dogmatism.
Only these two philosophical systems (and of that these remarks should convince everybody) are possible. According to the first system, the representations which are accompanied by the feeling of necessity are products of the intelligence, which must be presupposed in their explanation; according to the latter system they are products of a thing in itself, which must be presupposed to explain them. If anyone desired to dispute this position, he would have to prove either that there is still another way to transcend experience than by means of abstraction, or that there exist in the consciousness of experience more than the two components just mentioned. Now, in regard to the first, it will appear below that what we have here called intelligence is actually present under another name in consciousness, and therefore is not something entirely produced by abstraction; but it will at the same time be shown that the consciousness of it is conditioned by an abstraction, which is wholly natural to mankind.
It will not be denied that it is possible to frame an entire system from fragments of these dissimilar systems, and that this illogical labor has actually very often been undertaken; but it is denied that more than these two systems are possible in any logical mode of procedure.
4.
Between the object (we shall call the explanatory ground of experience affirmed by a philosophy the object of that philosophy, since it appears to be only through and for such philosophy) of idealism and that of dogmatism there is a remarkable distinction in reference to their relation to consciousness. Everything of which I am conscious is called object of consciousness. There are three ways in which the object can be related to consciousness. Either the object appears to have been produced by the representation, or as existing without its aid; and in the latter case, ei...