Fichte's Science of Knowledge/Chapter VII

by Charles Carroll Everett

CHAPTER VII.

THE ANTINOMY OF THE NOT-ME.

WE have reached, it will be remembered, this proposition: The I posits the Me and the Not-me as determining each the other.

This involves two distinct propositions, namely:

I. The I posits the Me as determining the Not-me.

II. The I posits the Not-me as determining the Me.

These propositions, which, as we have just seen, express simply the most ordinary facts of consciousness, furnish the foundation of the whole system which we are studying.

The first furnishes the foundation for the practical part of the system. No use can at present be made of it. We do not yet know whether it is or is not absolutely true. It may be that we shall find the Not-me to be a limitation which the I puts upon itself. When we have found the reality of the Not-me, if indeed we find such reality, we can make use of this proposition. Till then, it must be left unused.

We turn, then, to the second proposition, namely: The I posits the Me as determined by the Not-me. This forms the basis of the theoretical part of the system, and we can make use of it at once.^[1]

The I posits the Me as determined, or limited, by the Not-me. This is the proposition from which we must now take our start. Doing this, we must keep in mind the method which is followed throughout by the system that we are studying. The method is to discover by analysis the contradictions that are involved in any given proposition, and then to seek to reconcile these by a synthesis.

The proposition under consideration involves contradictions. These may become apparent through a difference in emphasis. We may say: The I posits the Me, as determined by the Not-me; or we may say: The I posits the Me as determined by the Not-me.

The first of these statements affirms that the Me is limited by something that is not itself. The I appears to be not all; but to be conditioned by that which is external.

The second form of emphasis affirms the absoluteness of the I. It posits the Me as determined by the Not-me; and whatever the I posits, it posits in its own consciousness. In consciousness, the I is the only actor. As we have seen, it is the result of its own positing of itself. It is by self-consciousness that it becomes an I. Whatever is found in consciousness is thus the result of its activity. To say, therefore, that the I posits the Me as determined by the Not-me, is simply to say that the I determines itself.

We have thus deduced from the general proposition, The I posits itself as determined by the Not-me, these two subordinate propositions, namely:

The Not-me determines the Me.

The I determines itself.

From one of these, as we shall find, is developed the Category of Causality; and from the other, that of Substantiality. These two Categories, at first, will seem to be wholly antithetical to one another, and will represent the elements of the antinomy contained in our general proposition.

It may now be well to translate the terms of this antinomy into the language of our common life, and thus to show that they involve no merely seeming difficulty artfully conjured up by a process of dialectics in order that it may be removed by another process, but a difficulty that we must all feel to be involved in every act of consciousness. I find myself in a world of objects, by many of which I am affected. Some limit me painfully, invading my life or checking my activities. Others affect me pleasantly; but they affect me, none the less. At every moment, my inner life is determined by them. I have no doubt of their reality. Never, for a moment, can I separate myself from them, so far as my consciousness is concerned. I seem to be conscious of them as I am conscious of myself. When, however, I think carefully of the matter, this very fact that I seem to be conscious of them suggests a grave difficulty. I can really be conscious only of myself. I can prove that the elements that make up this world of objects are thoughts and sensations of my own. I cannot escape from the world of my own consciousness. Yet, no matter how clearly I may prove this, the world of objects remains, for me, a world that is foreign to myself. I can prove it to be the Me; I can not think of it except as the Not-me. To put the difficulty into a somewhat different form: If these objects are outside of my consciousness how did they ever get into it? or, if they are in my consciousness, how did they ever get out of it? We have, here, the problem, the solution of which Fichte is to attempt; and at this point his system properly begins.

We have found, in the proposition with which we started, a contradiction that seems absolute. The proposition seems, thus, to cancel itself by its very affirmation. It cannot, however, cancel itself, for it involves the unity of consciousness, which is the very basis of our investigation. There must be some element which shall make a reconciliation possible.

The problem to be solved is this: How does it happen that the I feels itself limited by the objects that fill its consciousness, while it is itself the creator of them? The state of things here contemplated may be illustrated by the consciousness that we have in a dream. Indeed, the thought of the dream must be, all along, our standard, for we have not as yet found any ground of difference between our waking state and a dream. In a dream the objects of consciousness are confessedly the creation of the I, yet even in the dream the I feels itself limited by them.

Fichte bases his discussion of the matter upon the thought of what he calls the sum of reality.^[2] Reality is neither an infinite nor an indefinite amount. Reality, as it exists for any one individual, is the entire content of his consciousness—the object which stands over against the subject. If we could conceive of self-consciousness, without any object save the Me, the distinction between subject and object would still exist. The Me, in this case, would be all the reality that is recognized. It would, for the I, be the only reality. If the Not-me is recognized, as well as the Me, the content of consciousness would not be thereby extended. This content is always quantitively the same. When the Not-me is seen to exist by the side of the Me, it does not manifest itself as something added to the Me. The place that it occupies is taken from that which the Me would have occupied had it been alone. Thus, the Me is actually limited by the Not-me; and this is none the less true because the Not-me is itself the product of the I. It is, of course, equally true that whatever reality is ascribed to the Me is taken from the Not-me. The two elements are thus mutually determined.

The definiteness of the content of consciousness, and thus of reality, is. a fundamental thought with Fichte, and should be distinctly recognized. One may, by a very imperfect illustration, compare the field of consciousness to the illuminated circle cast by a magic lantern upon a screen. It has its definite size, and thus its possible content. This circle is always filled, either by the pure light, or the object which may be represented; or they may divide the field between them. So much of the space as is occupied by the object, is held exclusively by it; and from this the pure light is excluded. On the other hand, so far as the pure light fills the field, the object is excluded. Perhaps another illustration may make a part of the statement more clear. Suppose, in the first place, that A has at his command an amount of money practically unlimited. He gives four thousand dollars to B, and appropriates four thousand dollars to his own use. In both these acts, he proceeds with absolute freedom; neither act is dependent upon the other. While giving B the four thousand, he might have devoted five or seven thousand to his own use with equal ease. Suppose, on the other hand, that A is the owner of exactly ten thousand dollars. Now, if he gives four thousand to B, he remains, of necessity, the owner of six. The sum which he retains in his own possession is determined by the amount which he gives to B. He thus determines the amount of his own possession, but not with absolute freedom. This amount is determined by the sum which he gives to B. We can thus understand how, in the process which Fichte describes, determination and self-determination are blended. The reality which fills the consciousness being a definite sum, so much as the I ascribes to the Not-me is taken from the Me. Though the act is in part free, it is in part determined.

The problem is thus solved, so far as it was proposed. Many questions, however, remain still unanswered. The fundamental question, how the I can posit negation in itself, and reality in the Not-me, is untouched; and, so long as this question is unanswered, we have accomplished nothing. The I is pure affirmation; and we have, thus far, no hint of the possibility of the entrance into it of the negative element.

We began by recognizing the principle of determination. From this general notion, we have reached the idea of a definite kind of determination; namely, that by which the elements mutually determine one another. That is, the determination of one depends upon that of the other, that of the Me depending upon that of the Not-me, and the reverse. This mutual dependence of determination Fichte affirms to be what is called, by Kant, Relation. The two elements stand in relation to one another.

Relation is itself a general term. As we attempt to solve the contradiction that still remains, we must seek some definite forms of relation. Whatever could be done by the idea of relation in general, has been accomplished; by these definite forms of relation we may hope to accomplish still more. The difficulty with the idea of relation in general, is that the elements related stand upon a precisely equal footing. Each determines the other. It does not matter from which side we start, we have to determine to which of the elements absolute priority belongs. Reality is posited absolutely by the I in itself. But we have posited the Not-me as a quantum; and every quantum is something, and thus has reality. Therefore, the Not-me becomes not merely negative, but a negative quantity. We thus have two quantities opposed to each other. So far as we now see, we might cull either positive or either negative. If the Not-me is negative to the Me, it is equally true that the Me may be regarded as the negative of the Not-me. Unless this ambiguity is removed, the unity of consciousness is destroyed. The Me and the Not-me have, each, reality. They are no longer opposed. Each is what the other is; and the Me and the Not-me are one.

We must seek some mark by which we may distinguish the positive from the negative; by which, thus, we may absolutely distinguish reality from that which is opposed to it. The source of all reality is the I. With this, whatever reality we can recognize is given. The very idea of reality is given by it. But the I is, because it posits itself; and it posits itself because it is; therefore to posit itself and to be, are one and the same. But, further, the idea of self-positing and that of activity are one and the same, for this self-positing is the original and fundamental form of activity. Thus reality is active, and whatever is active is real. Activity and reality are one and the same thing.

According to the first of the subordinate propositions that we are considering, the I is determined or limited. Thus reality, or, what is the same thing, activity, must be cancelled in it. Therefore, the opposite of activity must be posited in it. But the opposite of activity is passivity. Passivity is absolute negation, and is thus distinguished from mere relative negation. If, when the I is in the condition of passivity, the absolute sum of reality is to be preserved, a like grade of activity must necessarily be transferred to the Not-me.

Thus, the difficulty that met us is solved. We can affirm no absolute reality of the Not-me; but it has reality so far as the I is passive. So far as we can now see, the Not-me, has, for the I, reality only so far as the I is affected; and, apart from the affection of the I, it has no reality.

This affirmation that there is no reality to be ascribed to the Not-me, except it is necessary to assume this through the affection or passivity of the I, is, it will be noticed, guarded by the qualification, “So far as we now see.” In fact, Fichte always remains by this affirmation. In support of it, it may be asked: How, if the Not-me has any reality apart from its relation to the Me, should we ever know it? What right have we, then, to affirm such being? We may not, indeed, be able to deny it, any more than we can deny any affirmation in regard to matters wholly beyond our knowledge; but, in regard to such matters, there seems little place for affirmation, or even for question. By such suggestions may the position of Fichte be made to appear rational, even to those who are not prepared fully to accept it. He himself pauses to emphasize the importance of this position in relation to this whole system.

By giving a real meaning to the proposition that affirmed that the Me is determined by the Not-me, we have deduced the Category of Causality. This, although contained under the general Category of Relation, is yet specifically different from this. Under the Category of Relation, it was left doubtful to which of the related elements reality should be ascribed, and to which negation. Under the Category of Causality, this uncertainty does not exist. In this, activity is opposed to passivity. Activity represents the cause, and passivity is the effect. The active cause is real and positive. Passivity is negative. Thus, the Not-me is real and positive so far as it is a cause. The I is negative so far as it is passive, and is affected by the Not-me.

We have thus considered the contradictions that are contained in one of the subordinate propositions, which were developed out of the proposition which forms the basis of the theoretical part of the system. This subordinate proposition is this: The Not-me determines the Me. The other subordinate proposition was this: The I determines itself. We have now to consider the contradiction that may be contained in this.

It will be understood that we are now to develop the other side of the antinomy, and that, thus, our process and its results will be wholly unlike those just contemplated.

The contradiction contained in the proposition, The I determines itself, is found in the fact that the I is affirmed to be both the determiner and the determined. It is active and passive at once.

Both reality and negation are ascribed to it at the same time, which is certainly a contradiction. The contradiction would be solved if we could make each member of it dependent upon the other, so that the activity should involve the passivity, and the reverse. This would be accomplished if we could affirm that the I determines its activity through its passivity, or the opposite. We have now to ask whether this affirmation can be made, and, if so, in what sense it can be made.

If we are to recognize any one thing as determined by another, we must have some standard by which we can measure it; for only by such a standard can we judge how far the thing has been modified by the influence that has acted upon it. Such measurement must be found in the I itself, and is the sum of reality, which we have already seen to be posited in it. By this standard of measurement can we judge how much reality is lacking at any moment to the I; that is, how far it is passive. We have, thus, a lack of reality contrasted with the fulness of reality.

Reality, however, has been found by us to be equivalent to activity. This lack of reality is, therefore, a lack of activity. Passivity, then, must be shown to be related to activity. By this, is meant not the passivity of one object that is related to the activity of another; but the passivity of any one object as related to its own activity. For this relation, some common term is needed between the two. This term is found in the idea of activity itself. Passivity must be regarded as activity, but as a lower grade of activity. A lack is nothing in itself. What really exists is that which remains after that which is lacking has been taken. Passivity, then, does not stand in contrast to activity as such. The contrast is between it and the fulness of activity, from which nothing has been subtracted. We have thus found the common term, which we may call X, between activity and passivity. It is in itself activity. The passivity is simply a diminished activity.

Draw a circle, and the plane that is included in it stands opposed to the endlessness of the space which is excluded. Draw within this another circle. The space inclosed within it is, like that in the outer circle, opposed to the outlying and unlimited space. It is also opposed to the space included in the first circle, but which is outside itself. The inner circle may thus be regarded from two opposite points of view. It is a part of the larger circle; and is at the same time opposed to it. We will now pass from this illustration to the reality which it symbolizes. The I, in its completeness, would represent the larger circle. Any particular modification of the I—any special form under which it may at any moment exist—would be represented by the smaller circle. The I is the fulness of activity. The modified form would also be activity, but a partial activity. Take for instance the phrase, I think. This is, at first, an expression of activity. The I acts in thinking. But it is also an expression of negation, and thus of passivity. The activity of thought is only a portion of the full activity of the I. Thinking is in contrast with other forms of activity, which may be excluded by it. It is at once, then, positive and negative—an activity and a passivity. Every predicate of the I involves this same contradiction; it is at once positive and negative.

We can thus understand how the I, by means of its activity, determines its passivity; and how, thus, it may be at the same time both active and passive. It is active, or determining, so far as it, through absolute spontaneity, puts itself into a single one of the many forms of activity that are open to it. It is determined, so far as it is regarded as included in this special sphere, without regard to the spontaneity by which the limitation was accomplished. We have thus found a new Category, which, like that of Causality, is contained under the general Category of Relation;—that is, like Causality, it is a special form of Relation. It is the Relation of Substantiality.

So far as the I is regarded as containing all the spheres of reality, or all the forms of activity which belong to it, it is Substance. So far as it may be regarded as occupying only a portion of the fulness which belongs to it, one element only being present, all others being excluded, we find what is known as Accident. Thought is an accident of the I considered as substance. The limit which separates this special sphere from the great totality is that which makes it to be an accident. The possibility of these accidents—that is, of these partial manifestations of itself—is what makes the I to be considered as substance.

Substance is the whole circle of possible changes, considered as a whole. The accident is any one of these states, which replaces or is replaced by the rest.

It is to be noticed that we have not as yet inquired into the nature of the I by means of which it differentiates itself into substance and accident, nor what occasions it to make this differentiation. So far as we can guess from what has been already said, the occasion of this act of limitation, or differentiation, must be found in the Not-me. We find here an illustration of the method of the system that we are studying. We find a contradiction; we introduce some middle term by which the contradiction may be solved. When we have done this, we find that the first difficulty was removed only that a new one may be introduced. The chasm may be a little narrower, but it still exists. So far as the I is limited by the Not-me, it is finite. In itself, however, considered as pure activity, it is infinite. We have, then, to reconcile the contradiction between the infinite and the finite. This is, from the very nature of the case, impossible. After we have done our best, there will still remain an unsolved contradiction.

We may now analyze our results, and consider at what point we have arrived and what remains to be accomplished. We will first consider the Category of Causality. Suppose the I to be limited wholly by the activity of the Not-me. Just so far as it is invaded by the Not-me, is a certain portion of its activity cancelled. So far as this limitation is concerned, the I is merely passive. The negation is posited, but not for the I itself. It is posited only for some intelligent being outside the I, who observes the transaction, and recognizes the limitation. The I would he determined or limited, but it would not posit itself as determined or limited. This could be posited only by some being outside it. Thus, only the part of the proposition would be found true which affirms that the I is determined by the Not-me. It would be thus determined, but it would not so posit itself.

Let us now consider the matter in relation to the Category of Substantiality. According to this, the I would have the power, without any action of the Not-me, arbitrarily to posit a lessened amount of reality in itself. This is the assumption of Transcendental Idealism. It is the assumption of the system of Leibnitz; namely, that of a Preëstablished Harmony. When this limitation has been accomplished, the I would certainly posit itself as determined; but we can see no reason why it should posit itself as determined by the Not-me. The fact that it does ascribe this limitation to the action of the Not-me is denied by no idealist. The right to make this assumption is, however, denied by the idealist. The difficulty remains, to explain how the I comes to assume the action of the Not-me as limiting it, when it has no right to assume this. We have here a difficulty that no merely idealistic philosophy can explain.

Starting from the point of view of realism, which is represented by the Category of Causality, the difficulty is, to understand how the I should recognize the Not-me, which is supposed really to exist. Starting from the point of view of idealism, which is represented by the Category of Substantiality, the difficulty is, to understand how the I should come to posit the Not-me, which has no existence.

We meet here, after all our attempts at reconciliation, the same antinomy with which we started. The Category of Causality has led us to recognize the reality of the Not-me, and the fact that the I is limited by it. The Category of Substantiality would lead us to recognize the I as alone existing, and the Not-me as a form of its activity. The former would furnish a basis for the materialistic philosophy, or for a philosophy like that of Spinoza, based upon the idea of the absolute substance. The other would give a, basis for transcendental idealism, or for a system of preëstablished harmony.

Idealism is unsatisfactory because, as we have seen, it cannot explain what it undertakes to explain. The theory of a preëstablished harmony is, in addition, inconsequent. It assumes both the Me and the Not-me; so far, it accords with the realistic systems just referred to. It, however, regards all the modifications of the mind as deduced from the action of the soul itself in absolute independence of the Not-me. It meets the demand of the realist without accepting the reason upon which he bases these demands. It accepts the assumption of the idealist, while retaining the machinery of an outward world, which is no longer needed.

We have thus brought the realistic and the idealistic systems of philosophy face to face. Neither accomplishes what it undertakes. The one assumes that the I is limited by the Not-me, and thus fails to recognize the fact that the I limits itself. The other assumes the I to be self-limiting; but it cannot explain how it should come to regard itself as limited by the Not-me. A new attempt at reconciliation must be made.

The contradictions that we have been considering seem, when we examine them, to render any advance impossible. The I can posit no passivity in itself without positing activity in the Not-me, and no activity in the Not-me without positing passivity in the Me. It can posit neither without the other. It can posit neither absolutely—that is, independently of the other. It thus can posit neither first. It can begin nowhere in its process of positing. Thus it can posit nothing. This is, however, in direct contradiction with our fundamental proposition, and would destroy the unity of consciousness.

We meet here a difficulty similar to that which we have met before, and this contradiction must be solved as other contradictions have been solved by us. We must, while recognizing the mutual contradiction of the two propositions, assume this to be partial. We may say, then, that the I posits in part passivity in itself so far as it posits activity in the Not-me; but in part it does not posit passivity in itself so far as it posits activity in the Not-me; and the reverse. In other words, the passivity of the one in neither case stands in perfect relation to the activity of the other. The dependence of the two terms of the relation is thus no longer absolute. The I and the Not-me have each an activity that is independent of that of the other. We have what was needed; namely, a power of initiation. The deadlock is broken, and the process that seemed wholly excluded is free to manifest itself.

Such independent activity, however, contradicts the principle of relation which we had before reached. We have elements that are unrelated. This contradiction must be solved like the others, by making each term of it partial. The validity of the principle of relation shall be partial, and the independence of the elements shall be partial.

The independent activity of the one element cannot act upon that of the other; and the reverse. The relation in which the elements stand to one another may, however, be related to the independent activity; and the independent activity may be related to it. Thus, the demands of each side of the contradiction are met.

When we ask in general what is the nature of this independent activity, we must look for our answer once more at the relation between the activity and passivity which we have just seen to be dependent upon it. This activity and passivity are mutually dependent. There is no activity of the Me without passivity of the Not-me; and the reverse. There must, then, be some common element by which both are united, and upon which this relation depends. A result reached already by us may indicate the nature of this common element. It is reality, or, when the relation is considered as an action, it is activity. We have already recognized the idea of the limited quantum of reality—or, from another point of view, of activity. No reality can be cancelled; therefore, just so much as is taken from the one side must be posited on the other. This furnishes the basis for the mutual dependence of the Me and the Not-me, and is the independent activity that we need.

The principle which we have just reached furnishes the ground for the independent activity of the Not-me and of the I, considered each as taking the initiative in the relation between them. This application of the principle can best be seen by making use, as before, of the Categories of Causality and of Substantiality. It must be noticed that, under the Category of Causality, the general principle above deduced exists as a quantum of reality, forming the content of consciousness; while, under the Category of Substantiality, it is regarded as existing as a quantum of activity, forming the subject of consciousness.

We will first consider the matter under the Category of Causality. Passivity is posited in the subject. To this must be opposed activity in the Not-me. The basis of the relation is found in the idea of quantity, as has just been described. The content of consciousness must be divided between the Me and the Not-me. Passivity in the Me is the ideal ground of the activity of the Not-me; that is, it is the ground upon which we assume the activity of the Not-me. The requirements of the relation between the two are thus fully satisfied.

Looked at from this point of view, we have no longer merely a difference of quantity. We have a difference of quality. Passivity is posited as a quality wholly different from activity. The ground of a quality is a real cause. An independent activity of the Not-me must be posited as the real cause of the passivity of the Me; and this activity is posited in order that we may have a real cause for the passivity.

We have here the strongest statement of one side of the antinomy, which underlies our whole discussion. We have reached the point where we recognize the independence of the Not-me, and its absolute causality in relation to the Me. Fichte pauses in his reasoning, to recognize this fact, and to insist that this position should not be regarded as a final one. We pass, therefore, at once to the consideration of the other side of the antinomy. To reach this, we consider the relation of the I and the Not-me, under the Category of Substance.

The fundamental nature of the reasoning under this Category has already been considered. We have seen that passivity is qualitatively not to be distinguished from activity. Passivity is only a smaller amount of activity. The ground of relation is here activity. In this the Category of Substance is to be considered as different from that of Causality, under which the mediating ground was found to be quantity. Here it is the activity of consciousness. There it was the content of consciousness.

In the Not-me, however, a limited amount of activity is also posited. The question arises, How then shall the limited activity of the Me and that of the Not-me be absolutely distinguished from one another? If no ground of distinction can be found, our whole labor will have been lost.

Further, it is assumed that the diminished activity should be the activity of the same I in which the sum of activity is posited. According to our previous results, under the Category of Causality, the activity that is opposed to the total activity should be posited in the Not-me. Should it be posited in that, however, there would be no relation possible with the total activity. We must seek, therefore, some mark by which the diminished activity of the I shall be absolutely distinguished from that of the Not-me, and by which the required possibility of relation may be established. From what we have already seen of the nature of the I, this characteristic must be the positing absolutely and without ground. This lessened activity must, therefore, be absolute. But absolute and without ground means wholly unlimited; and yet this act of the I is the becoming limited. The answer to this is that only so far as it is an act is it without ground. The act is wholly spontaneous; but, so far as it is directed upon an object, it must be determined. In other words, if the act is to take place, it must be directed upon this object.

We have thus reached the thought of the independent activity of the I, that is needed. This is not absolute activity in general, but absolute activity which determines a relation. This activity is called Imagination.^[3]

The imagination fills with Fichte the same place that it does with Kant, and which it must till in any idealistic philosophy. In every such philosophy, the world of objects, in the midst of which we seem to live, is a world of phenomena, or of appearances. We have only sensations of various kinds. It is the imagination that creates, out of these, the full and rounded world of our daily life. The relation in which the imagination stands to the Me and the Not-me in their relation to one another, is obvious. They are its creation. We have thus fulfilled the condition which was required. We have found an independent activity that stands in relation, not merely to the Me, or to the Not-me, but to the relation that exists between them. It is the basis of the very possibility of this relation.

In the discussion which we have just followed, one point is barely indicated which is made much more of in the later forms of the Science of Knowledge. The act of the productive imagination is maintained to be perfectly free, so far as the act is concerned; but the results of this activity are determined in case the act takes place. In other words, we are perfectly free to think or not, perfectly free to exercise this creative power or not; but if we choose to make use of the power which we have, the results must depend upon the fixed nature of this power itself. This may seem contrary to our experience, according to which the world, whether real or phenomenal, is a fixed fact for us, and not at all dependent upon our volition. Fichte would seem, however, elsewhere to refer the exercise of this freedom to a point anterior to our life of conscious experience;^[4] to reach, in fact, a position similar to that of Schelling in his discussion of Human Freedom.^[5] The hint given of this view in the work that is now before us, is interesting as being one among many indications that the system of Fichte remained substantially the same, through all the varied forms of statement; and that the views later developed underlie all the earlier statements. The implication is here found in the fact that the ground distinctly taken in all later statements is required, if the earlier statement is to have any meaning.

The discussion at this point becomes so elaborate and complicated that it would be impossible to attempt a condensed statement that should give more than the rattle of the machinery; or an exposition that should not stretch beyond the limits within which the present work is confined. We can simply indicate as briefly as possible the nature of the discussion, and its more important results.

The relation between the Me and the Not-me is analyzed more carefully than before. In this relation there exist four elements. These are the Material of the Relation, its Form, the Independent Activity upon which the Material depends, and that upon which the Form depends.

The Material of the Relation consists obviously of the elements that enter into it; namely, the Me and the Not-me. The Form of the Relation is the nature of the dependence which one of these elements has upon the other. The nature of this dependence we have already seen to be the following: So much of the absolute reality as is not posited in the Me, must be posited in the Not-me; so much as is posited in the Not-me is not posited in the Me. The one thus involves and suggests the other. The passivity of the Me brings us to the thought of the activity of the Not-me as its real cause; the activity of the Not-me suggests the passivity of the Me as its ideal ground.

The Independent Activity upon which the Material is dependent, is, as we have seen, the imagination which creates these elements. The Independent Activity upon which the Form of the Relation depends, is the consciousness, which is led by the presence of the one element to the thought of the other, and which thus discerns the nature and the necessity of their mutual dependence. In other words, in every act of the productive imagination, may be found two elements. One of these may be called the objective element; it is that which furnishes the matter of consciousness. The other may be called the subjective element; it is that which recognizes and adopts this material.

These four elements—the Matter, the Form, the Independent Activity of the Matter, and that of the Form—are considered in every possible aspect. The dependence of each upon all the rest, and of all upon each, is elaborately discussed. Each point is considered under the Categories of Causality and Substantiality. The result is to show the mutual dependence, and, indeed, the identity of all these forms of relation. Neither has any meaning apart from the rest. We have but one process considered under various aspects.

The elements of the relation are thus shown to have no existence apart from the form. That is, these elements are mutually dependent, one upon the other. Their relation is polar. They are simply antithetical to one another. The Not-me is simply the antithesis of the Me. The Me is simply the opposite of the Not-me. Neither has any existence or any meaning apart from the other. If there be no subject, there can be no object. If there be no object, there can be no subject. This relation of dependence does not, of course, include the I in its absoluteness. This is independent of antithesis and of synthesis. Its activity is independent and essential. The reference is only to subject as the correlate of object; or, to use the form of expression that we have generally adopted, to the Me in relation to the Not-me.

We have thus reached a result which may occasion some difficulty. We have found that neither the Ale nor the Not-me has any meaning apart from the other. Each exists only through, and in relation to, the other. On the other hand, they are mutually exclusive. How shall this mutual exclusiveness be reconciled with this mutual dependence? The two must meet in our consciousness, or else we can have no recognition of either. How can they thus meet, when each, by its very nature, excludes the other? The solution of this difficulty Fichte finds in the idea of limit or boundary.

c
A | B
c

Let A and B represent two divisions of space, which touch each other at the line c. What relation has the line c to these two tracts of space? Does it belong to neither of them, or to either of them; and if to either, to which? It cannot belong to neither, for in this case the line c would be a space between the two tracts, while, according to the supposition, they touch one another. The line c is merely a mathematical line that marks a distinction, but indicates no separation. If it belongs to either of them, to which of them shall it belong? If it belongs to A, then it is not the line of division. It is a part of A, and no longer the line c. The line c must be pushed forward toward B, so far, at least, as it may be supposed to have before covered any space. If we make it a part of B, the same change of relation exists, only in the opposite sense. What was the line c, is now a part of B; and another line c must be drawn by so much nearer to A. It must then belong to both. In other words, at the line c, A and B are no longer distinct. They meet, then, each being what it is, each antithetical to the other, yet so far as this line is concerned, coexisting. We cannot thus analyze the line c, however, without, in our imagination, giving it a real extent. As we thus speak of it, it has become to us no longer a mere mathematical line, as it really is, but a strip of space.

The line c may represent the meeting point of the Me and the Not-me. At their mutual boundary line they are one. Fichte affirms that the imagination has the power to hold this line and to broaden it; and thus the difficulty is solved.^[6] The meeting of the two mutually exclusive elements is accomplished. This meeting is all that was needed for the possibility of recognizing each in its relation to the other.

We have thus reached the most complete recognition that is possible of the relation of the Not-me to the Me, and of its absolute dependence upon the I. The positing of the Not-me is the act of the I as truly as the positing of the Me; and the Not-me belongs to the I as truly as does the Me. This relation is illustrated by a careful and somewhat elaborate discussion of the nature of substance. Substance has been assumed throughout, but at this point its nature is for the first time fully analyzed.^[7]

The nature of substance may be illustrated by the various relations under which iron exists. Our first notion of iron is, that in itself it is without motion. If it is moved, it can only be by means of some power foreign to itself. The idea of motion is thus excluded from our conception of iron. We, however, later observe that it moves when no one is bringing any force to bear upon it. We find that this motion was occasioned by the neighborhood of a magnet. We find that to move thus when a magnet is present, is one of the properties of iron. Our notion of iron is thus enlarged. Let A represent iron at rest. Let B represent iron in motion, under the influence of the magnet. At first, our notion of iron would be expressed by A. B would be something wholly foreign to it. Now, our notion of iron is expressed by A + B. Iron never, at any one moment, fulfils this formula. In other words, A and B are never present at the same time. A + B is always determined either by A or B. When the iron is at rest we have A + B determined by A. When it is in motion we have A + B determined by B. The nature of iron, then, is found to consist in this determinability. This determinability is what we express by the word Substance. If we had only A—in other words, if things were absolutely persistent and unchangeable, manifesting always precisely the same attributes—we should have no idea of substance. Substance has no meaning except in relation to accidents. No accidents, no substance; no substance, no accidents. It is the accidents, taken collectively, that give us substance. A + B is the substance, of which A and B are the accidents. Determinability is the substance, of which determinations are the accidents.

Let us now apply this illustration to the special object of our study. Let A represent the act of the I in positing the Me, which, as such, has no existence except as thus posited. Let B represent the act of the I in positing the Not-me. At first, we sought to represent the I by A alone. B, we thought, was wholly foreign to it. Its positing of the Not-me was regarded as the recognition of something outside itself. We now find that the positing of the Not-me is as truly its act as the positing of the Me; that the Not-me is dependent upon the I as truly as the Me; that it has no existence except as posited by the I. We thus no longer represent the I by A. We represent it by A + B. We find that its substance, like all substance, consists in determinability. This determinability is expressed by the formula just given.

We have thus gone as far as it is possible in the direction toward the making of the Not-me the mere product of the I. We have found that the positing of the Not-me is wholly the act of the I; that the positing of the Not-me belongs to the nature of the I. Our difficulty is, however, not wholly removed. The quale of the I is absolute activity. It is, as we have seen, considered in itself, infinite. What could have moved it to the positing of itself as limited, and of a limited Not-me over against it? The difficulty is not removed by the discussion in regard to the nature of substance. Though the positing of the Not-me is an accident pertaining to the substantiality of the I, yet none the less do we demand the occasion of the manifestation of this accident. It belongs, indeed, to the nature of iron to move under some circumstances, as truly as it does to remain fixed when these circumstances do not exist. The magnet, however, must be present if the movement is to occur. What shall take the place of the magnet in relation to the I?

The difficulty that has met us throughout, we find to be thus waiting for us at the end of our analysis. It presents itself in a somewhat different form, but the difficulty is the same. We can no longer seek to avoid it by analysis of mental processes. This analysis can be carried no farther. The whole matter has been reduced to its lowest terms. The difficulty at last must be fairly and squarely met.

Fichte meets the difficulty in this way. He assumes the existence of some obstacle, against which the activity of the I strikes, and, in part, recoils upon itself.^[8] This obstacle need not be supposed to be of the nature of a thing. It is merely a limit that is placed about the I.^[9] Against this the activity of the I strikes. It is in part checked, and, as we have seen, turned back upon the I. This collision, then, is the occasion upon which the I posits the Not-me.

We have now to see how far the requirements of the case are met. In the first place, the absoluteness of the I is preserved. If the obstacle is anything but an obstacle,—that is, if it has any activity of its own, so that it invades the I,—we cannot conceive how this result should have been reached. The I would be a thing acted upon by another thing. The I, however, is alone active; and the collision does not take anything from its activity. The I only takes occasion from this to manifest its activity in a different form.

Not only does the I still remain infinite, so far as its independent activity is concerned; this infinitude is needed for the very idea of the collision. If the activity of the I were limited, it might be supposed that this check arose because the limits of its own nature were reached. If the limits of its own nature merely were reached, it may be asked, whence can come that superabundant activity, which is reflected back, as we have seen, and thus furnishes the origin of consciousness, and of the objective world? It is because the activity of the I is pressing into the infinite, that we recognize the necessity of the collision that has been described, and can understand the results that follow.

In the second place, we have still the absolute dependence of the Not-me upon the I. It must not be supposed that the limit against which the activity of the I strikes, is that which is represented by the Not-me. The objective world, which, as we have seen, the imagination creates, is wholly independent of this. We must not imagine, for instance, a world of things, the changes of which are followed by changes in consciousness, which do not reproduce them but correspond to them; as the reflections in a distorting mirror follow the changes of the reflected objects by changes of their own, different from them, but corresponding to them; as in the Transfigured Realism of Spencer. We may, perhaps, illustrate the relation as viewed by Fichte, though very imperfectly, by what sometimes occurs during sleep. The sleeper is partly aroused by some sound or touch, and forthwith creates a world of dreams. These dreams may not in any way, or, at most, only incidentally, represent the sound or the touch. The impression from without is only the occasion upon which the mind freely creates the objects which make up the dream. The content of the dream comes not from without, but from within.

It must be distinctly noticed that this limit is found by the I—not created by it. In accounts which we sometimes meet of Fichte’s Philosophy, the opposite view is taken. The I is represented as limiting itself. Fichte represents the limit as something that forms an obstacle to the activity of the I—as something against which this activity beats as against an obstacle lying in its way. We shall later seek further the nature of this limit. It is enough for our present purpose to recognize it as something found by the I; and in that sense as something foreign to it. It is merely a limit; that is, this boundary has no existence except as such. It does not stand for a continent of solid reality against the shore of which dashes the unceasing activity of the I. All this, however, does not affect the relation. It is, none the less, a line drawn about the I ab extra.

To know precisely where we stand in the discussion, it is well to notice the various philosophies of the Not-me which Fichte recognizes, and which he contrasts with his own. We first meet what he calls Qualitative Realism.^[10] This is the view which men ordinarily hold in regard to the outward world. There is a world of things about us which are as real as the mind itself. These things stand in no dependence upon the mind. They would exist if all forms of spirit were annihilated. They act upon the mind. Their changes cause changes in the mind, and these mental changes represent more or less accurately the changes without. Indeed, the inner world is a more or less perfect copy of the outward world, and contains little, if indeed it contains anything, that is not impressed upon it from without. This view may, of course, be held in greater or less fulness. The essential element of it is the independence of the Thing-in-itself, and the real impression produced upon the mind by it. It is called Qualitative Realism, because the Not-me is qualitatively different from the Me.

Over against this stands the view which Fichte calls Qualitative Idealism. According to this view, nothing outside the mind is recognized. The mind creates its own world. It does this without law or limit; in other words, the relation between the Me and the Not-me is regarded as wholly lawless and arbitrary.

A second form of idealism is called by Fichte Quantitative Idealism. This we have already examined to some extent, and need to do little more than refer to statements already made. The view is based upon what we have known as the sum of reality, or the sum of activity. This introduces a law into the relation between the Me and the Not-me. We have the one really dependent upon the other. Each has its being in the other. If I divide a surface into two parts, each simply excludes the other. What is given to one is taken from the other; and what is taken from one is given to the other. The I still acts without being affected by anything outside itself. Both the Me and the Not-me are its product; but by the very act of positing them, this relation of mutual dependence is introduced into their relation to one another.

Over against this Quantitative Idealism, we have what Fichte calls Quantitative Realism. This is the position that we have just reached in our analysis. The Thing-in-itself, according to this view, is not regarded as qualitatively distinct from the mind, or as producing any specific impression upon it. We have simply a limit that possesses no quality whatever. As being thus merely a limit, it must be regarded as quantitative merely. It simply is something against which the activity of the I impinges; and from which the I takes occasion to posit the world which it recognizes as the Not-me.

No one of these views is wholly satisfactory. Each involves difficulties which the rest seek to avoid, and seeking to avoid which, they fall each into difficulties of its own.

Qualitative Realism is in itself inconceivable. It assumes that the Real can in some way pass into the Ideal; that the Not-me can in some way become the Me. It treats the I as a thing which may be acted upon by other things, as though they all belonged to the same class. We can, indeed, imagine the I to be a thing thus acted upon, but it would cease to be an I. Put such a thing in the midst of the chain of Physical Causation, and how would thought and feeling arise? In other words, the I and the thing belong to wholly different Categories. They are infinitely unlike. One is the polar antithesis of the other. How then can the one act upon the other? This is a difficulty which many besides Fichte have felt. Spinoza sought to solve it by his sublime Monism; and Leibnitz by his doctrine of Preëstablished Harmony. Fichte insists upon the impossibility of solving the difficulty. According to him, as we have already seen, the doctrine of the Preëstablished Harmony introduces an illogical extravagance into what was in itself inconceivable. If the outer has no effect upon the inner, if the thing and the mind both go on their independent way, where is the need of introducing this elaborate machinery, the movements of which correspond with the inner changes that are wholly independent of them? If you convince me that the vision that I seem to have of a man, is an optical delusion, where is the need of supposing a real man to be doing what my vision seems to represent? The hypothesis is cumbersome and needless.

Qualitative Idealism is as unable to explain the facts of the case as Qualitative Realism. Why should the I thus limit itself? Why should the I mistake its own creation for something foreign to itself? This position simply affirms an act of independent creation that is wholly lawless and uncaused; while even this groundless assumption would not, even were it established, explain the facts of the case.

Quantitative Realism attempts to avoid this difficulty. It suggests the occasion on which the I finds itself moved to recognize a form of being opposed to itself. In it the faults that we found in Qualitative Realism are reduced to a minimum. They are, however, not wholly removed.

For Quantitative Realism it was claimed that, according to it, the independence of the I, the absoluteness of its activity, remained. The I, according to this view, is not acted upon by the Not- me. The Not-me, which it recognizes as such, is its own creation. It simply takes occasion to enter upon this act of creation from the collision that it has with the limit, which is all that, according to this view, represents the outward thing. It is obvious, however, that this impinging is an interference with the absoluteness of the I. The fact that an occasion for a change in the form of its activity is thus furnished to it from without, shows that it is so far limited. No slighter limitation could be possible; yet the limitation and the interference are there. The antinomy remains that has confronted us at every stage. This antinomy has become merely the shadow or vestige of what it was; but even in this attenuated form it demands solution as truly as it did in the grosser form under which we first met it. Since no more attenuation is possible, and since the form of the antinomy still remains unsolved, it must be pronounced insoluble. Our analysis thus ends with an unsolved and an insoluble contradiction.

We have thus reached the limit of what Fichte calls the theoretical part of his system. The proposition underlying this portion of the work is this: The I posits itself as determined by the Not-me. We have analyzed this proposition so far as analysis is possible. We have solved contradiction after contradiction, only to find that each gives place to a new contradiction, more refined and abstract than that which preceded it, but no less real. We have reached the point where further analysis is impossible, and the contradiction still remains. The theoretical method is thus powerless to reach the result which we are seeking. We must, therefore, turn from it to the practical part of the system, to see whether the practical reason may not afford a solution which the theoretical reason cannot reach.

Notes

1. Sämmtliche Werke, I, 126.
2. Sämmtliche Werke, I, 129.
3. Sämmtliche Werke, I, 160.
4. Sämmtliche Werke, I, 159. Compare Sämmtliche Werke, II, 107, in the statement of 1801; and 648 in Die Thatsachen des Bewusstseyns.
5. Untersuchungen über das Wesen der Menschlichen Freiheit,—Schilling’s Sämmtliche Werke, 1st Abtheilung, VII, 335.
6. Sämmtliche Werke, I, 225, et seq.
7. Sämmtliche Werke, I, 195, et seq.
8. Sämmtliche Werke, I, 210.
9. Same, 279.
10. Sämmtliche Werke, 185. et seq.