Part 12

The gain is by no means an insignificant one, and a distinctive treatment arises, if we become clearly conscious of the fact that the shaping of the process of life itself is the chief object of conflict; that the movement is not one between world and life, but lies entirely within life; and that the essential matter is the perfecting of life itself. The recognition of this fact leads us to an immanent mode of treatment that has many advantages. The facts involved are now seen to lie deeper. The source of experiences is not so much the relation to the environment as the movement and expansion of life itself. Striving and conduct may now involve a certain concreteness; indeed, the actual experiencing of limitations and negations may lead to an elevation above them. The type of life does not seek to justify itself, to show its truth, through harmony with an external world; it is justified by its own advance, its increase in strength, and its upward growth. It is only a justification of this kind, a justification within its own realm, that can acquire a power to convince and to restore again to life that concreteness of which, in opposition to the excess of unrestrained reflection and vague feeling, it is to-day in the direst need. If we desire to arise above this state of division, and to attain a greater unity, we can achieve our aim only by the power of an inner unification of our life.

Instead, therefore, of considering the internal from the point of view of the external, we must consider the external from the point of view of the internal; our knowledge must be essentially a knowledge of self, our experience an experience of self, if we would come any nearer to the attainment of the aim. Our inner nature is not given to us as something complete; it has first to be aroused to life and developed; we need to attain to a state of self-determining activity if we would reach the highest that we are capable of. From the recognition of the necessity of greater activity, and of seeking the roots of the problem at greater depths, we become aware of a new relation of thought to life. Although thought may involve certain fundamental forms, and may adhere to them in all its activity, it is life in its totality, as we understand it, which first gives to thought its more detailed form, a characteristic nature, clear aims and sure tendencies. Thought, therefore, is inseparable from the movement and the advance of life; all hope of progress rests on the hope of a further deepening of life; a revealing of new relations, and a development of new powers. It is not from mere knowledge, but only from the movement of life as a whole that we can make any advance; but the life here referred to is one that includes knowledge, and not one that takes up a position independent of knowledge, and, in opposition to it, bases itself on supposed practical needs.

A treatment such as the one we have indicated has to be followed in the investigation upon which we are about to enter. The chief aim of this investigation is to reveal and to call forth life; it is not its chief aim to interpret life in conceptual terms. It is from this position, therefore, that we ask the question--which the conflict of the different systems of life forced upon us--whether a unity transcending the oppositions exists in us and can be aroused to life through our self-determining activity. It is from this position also that we ask the further question--which springs out of the struggle between the older and the newer modes of thought--whether ultimately man must give up the superior position which from early times he has adjudged himself, or whether an inner elevation is possible which gives him the power to cope with new tasks and new conditions. Whether such a treatment leads to a positive result is a question of fact; and what the answer to this is cannot be decided by a preliminary consideration, but only by the actual investigation.

I. THE MAIN THESIS

(a) THE ASCENT TO THE MAIN THESIS

The most expeditious way of arriving at a comprehensive conception of human life is to begin with the impression which we get of it as a whole; ascertain what problems arise from this, and seek to make what headway we can in solving them until we reach a stage where the necessity of a particular assertion becomes apparent. From the outset, however, the attention will be centred chiefly upon that which differentiates human life from other forms of life existing within our knowledge; it is from a consideration of this that we shall most readily see the whole in its proper light.

1. MAN AS A BEING OF NATURE

No one doubts that human life forms the highest point of development that comes within our experience; that it is in some way more than mere animal life. But what it is that is characteristic in human life as distinct from animal life, and how it is to be interpreted, is a matter of dispute. From the earliest times there has been a great diversity of opinion and conviction concerning this matter, and absolutely contradictory views have been maintained. Some thinkers have believed it possible to regard human life, in spite of its uniqueness, as essentially the same as that of the animal, and to trace back all difference to a difference in the quantity of the fundamental nature which they all possess; these thinkers did not concern themselves with presenting the higher as developed from the lower by a gradual growth. Others, on the contrary, regarded human life as something essentially new and in its very nature distinct--the beginning of another kind of world--and denied to the uttermost a derivation from lower forms; these held it to be impossible to avoid the recognition of a break between animal and human life. According to which of these positions was accepted, life obtained a fundamentally different prospect and a fundamentally different task; activity necessarily had different aims and sought different paths; the conflict around this problem affected the whole sphere of existence.

As a result of the movements and experiences of the nineteenth century, this conflict has entered upon a new stage. In earlier times the decision had generally been made as a result of the immediate impression of the civilised man who was conscious of his superiority; it did not seem possible for him to lift himself far enough above his environment; the life of his soul, through its distinctive spiritual character, seemed to be as distinct from every impulse which nature exhibited as the sky is distant from the earth. Science and art, morality and religion were accepted as an original possession of man and as the power which had dominated his life from the beginning. He appeared to be a higher being; and to direct all thought and endeavour towards the strengthening of the distinctively human was regarded as the chief requirement of life.

The movements which have arisen in the Modern Age have led to a radical change in our treatment of this question: this change is chiefly due to science. Modern science breaks down the authority of the immediate impression, and, in contrast with it, projects a new representation of the world. Man is no longer looked upon as occupying a position of lonely elevation, but is seen to be in the closest concatenation with nature around him, and is regarded, finally, as a mere part of its machinery. Many movements of thought tend toward this conclusion and support one another. The physical relationship which exists between man and the animals could not have been so clearly perceived, and traced with such exactitude of detail by modern science had not the fixed boundaries, which in our representation had hitherto divided the life of the human soul from that of the animals, been abolished. The new view was further supported by the results of a keener investigation into the nature of psychical life, since in this investigation the traditional conception was analysed into its individual constituents, and it was sought to explain from their combinations even the highest spiritual achievements. The result of this modification of ideas was that the inner life of man was assimilated much more closely to nature than before; the juxtaposition and the succession of occurrences gained in significance; it was recognised that relations did not hold from the beginning but are developed gradually. The forces and impulses which were operative in this development seemed to have arisen from an actual process of nature, without any co-operation of human caprice. Our psychical life appeared to be nothing more than a continuation of nature. The great divergence between the heights attained in experience, and the theories that were formulated to account for them, caused no misgivings because the idea of a gradual evolution during an indefinite period of time was sufficient to bridge the widest gulf. At the same time the conception of society allied itself with that of history and lent its support to the general tendency. Every higher aspect of life that was accepted formerly as a proof of a supernatural order now became a witness to historico-social relationship and, with its new interpretation, lost its old mysteriousness. All this was, of course, only on the assumption that human life brings nothing essentially new with it. Not the least doubt as to the validity of this assumption came to those who entered upon this train of thought.

Thought was able to follow this course with the greater confidence because it went hand in hand with a change in practical life. By reason of the development of modern life, man's relations to the environment have become increasingly significant to man. Modern industry and physical science have led him from a preponderatingly contemplative relation to his environment to an active one; infinite prospects have been disclosed; the forces of nature have been pressed more and more into the service of mankind. But even in the service which they render man these forces have won a power over him, since with a determining power they keep his activity and his thought bent upon themselves. The material side of life has escaped from the mean estimation in which it had previously been held, if not in the conduct of individuals, yet at the height of spiritual culture: to the present age it has become the indispensable basis of all development. The social movement, with its summoning of the masses to complete participation in happiness and culture, supports the tendency to estimate material goods more highly. With the cessation of oppression and necessity, and with the increase of material well-being, a general advance and an inner development of life seem assured. The whole tendency which we have considered exhibits man as solely and entirely a part of nature, even though nature may be conceived of more broadly than it was formerly; and the life of the society and of the individual as being determined by natural forces and subject to natural laws. How, along with this tendency, the traditional conception of the world has been completely transformed; how biology, in the sense of natural science, has been taken as the leading point of view for the explanation of life, it is unnecessary to follow further, since our consideration of the naturalistic system of life has already given us an insight into this matter.

2. THE GROWTH OF MAN BEYOND NATURE

But even after we had seen an older type of life disappear and a new one with the power of youth rise up, gain mastery over souls, and transform conditions, despite all its triumphs the new movement manifested limitations--limitations which did not arouse the criticism of the thinker, but with the compulsion of an actual power the opposition of the developing life of mankind. That which we became aware of in this connection will become even more clear to us, and impel us to seek for new aims, if we now concentrate our attention upon the process of life and follow it throughout its experiences.

There cannot be the least doubt that we belong to nature: no one can fail to recognise that it penetrates deep into the life of the soul, and to a marked extent impresses its own form upon that life: the boundary therefore is not between man and nature, but within the soul of man itself. But whether nature is able to claim the whole life of the soul, or whether at some point there does not arise an insuperable opposition to such a claim, is another question. Even the most zealous champion of the claims of nature cannot deny that man achieves something distinctive: we not only belong to nature, we also have knowledge of the fact; and this knowledge is in itself sufficient to show that we are more than nature. For in knowledge, be it in the first place however meanly conceived, however much concerned with the simple representation of external occurrences, there is a kind of life other than that which is shown in the simultaneity and succession of events at the level of nature. For it is a characteristic of knowledge that in it we hold the single points present together and connect them into a chain; but how could we do that without in some way rising above the mere succession and surveying it from a transcendent point? In this survey we pass from earlier to later, from later to earlier; and at the same time we are able to hold the multiplicity together: there must be a unity of some kind ruling within us; but the mechanism of nature can never produce such a unity. A transcendence of nature therefore is already accomplished in the process of thought, even when it only represents nature, only displays it to our consciousness. Intellectual achievement, however, is by no means exhausted in the representation of nature. The development of a new scientific conception of nature sufficiently demonstrates, as we saw reason to believe, that thought has far more independence than such representation implies; that in arranging and transforming phenomena it opposes itself to the environment. For the scientific conception of nature is not offered to us immediately as something complete; it has to be won from the naïve view with toil and difficulty. In order to arrive at this scientific conception, thought must have a position antecedent to the impressions, must become conscious of itself, realise its own strength, and in its activity lead from universal to universal. The work of thought is not simply transitional: without its continuance that which has been gained would be quickly lost. Mere existence gives to nature no present reality for our thought and life. To follow the pathway to reality involves the overthrow of manifold delusions; and this necessitates such a longing for truth, and a power to gain truth, as only a thought, which transcends the sense impression, can produce. Not only is transcendence of nature demonstrated through the fact of the existence of thought with such independence, thought also carries within its being unique demands, measures the life of nature by their standard, and in that life recognises limitations not simply on this side and that, but also in the inner being of the whole. Thought cannot possibly be satisfied with the state of things as they are presented; it desires to illuminate, penetrate, and comprehend it; it asks "Whence?" and "Why?"--it insists that events must have a meaning and be rational. And from this point of view it feels the mere actuality of nature--which excites no opposition within its own sphere--to be a painful limitation and constraint, something dark and meaningless. To thought, a life which is swayed by blind natural impulse must be inadequate, indeed intolerable. Similar conflicts arise in other directions. Thought embraces a whole and demands a whole; it cannot refrain from passing a judgment upon the whole. If this treatment is applied by thought to nature, the predominant concentration of life in the single individuals and their juxtaposition will appear to be a serious defect; all the passionate strivings of the individual beings cannot deceive us concerning the inner emptiness of the whole. For in nature there is nothing that experiences the whole of this movement as a whole; makes the experience self-conscious and something of value in itself. In the movement of nature everything individual is sacrificed; and there seems to be nothing to which this sacrifice brings results which are experienced as a good. The same holds good of a culture that resolves human social relationship into a simple co-existence of individuals, regards them as battling together in the struggle for existence, and believes all progress of the whole to be dependent upon their ceaseless and pitiless conflict. Even if such a conflict leads to further external results, there is no spiritual product: the results are experienced by no one as an inner gain. The indescribable meanness of this whole culture, swayed as it is solely by the spirit of egoism; the slavish dependence to which this culture condemns man; the rigour of the individualism that rules in it, cannot possibly escape from the criticism of thought. Thought, in transforming this condition of things into an experience--that is, in making us conscious of it--at the same time makes it impossible for man to accept it as final. Since it makes us more conscious of the limitations of this state of life, thought demonstrates--and that through this very consciousness of its limitations itself--that our whole existence is not exhausted by that individualisation and detachment, but that there is a tendency of some sort within us which strives towards the unity of the whole.

Problems no less complex arise in relation to time. Looked at from the point of view of nature, no inconsistency is felt in the fact that only a short span of time is granted to the life of individuals; that they come and go in most rapid succession. For here the individuals do not rise to the consideration of anything beyond their own time; their presentation and desire are exhausted in the present; they feel no longing for a continuation of life. The position is radically changed with the entrance of thought. Thought does not drift along with time: as certainly as it strives to attain truth, it must rise above time and its treatment must be timeless: a timeless validity appertains to truth, a comprehension of things "under the form of eternity" (_sub specie aeternitatis_). To a being who, in his thought, rises to comprehension of experience from the point of view of the eternal, all temporal limitation, and especially the short duration of human life, is a source of surprise and a contradiction. The rapid sequence of generations, the perpetual decay of all that impels us so forcibly to desire life and holds us so firmly to it, seem to deprive our endeavour of all its value, and give to the whole of existence a shadowy, phantom-like character. Feelings of this kind have been aroused anew in our own time. The restlessness of the activities of our civilisation and the lack of real meaning in this civilisation, which to the present age seems to constitute the whole of life, need only to be clearly and forcibly comprehended by thought, and all its bustle and all its passion cannot prevent the emergence of an acute feeling of its dream-like nature.

The feeling of the lack of reality and depth in the life of nature will become the keener in proportion to the degree of independence thought evolves. For the more thought finds its own basis in itself, the more will it treat nature as an appearance, the more clearly will it recognise that sense, with all its obviousness and palpability, does not guarantee the possession of truth; for truth comes to us only through thought. In thought, therefore, the world of nature loses its immediacy and becomes a realm of appearances and phantoms.

A consideration of all the facts leads us to the result that a life consisting solely of nature and intelligence involves an intolerable inconsistency: form and content are sharply separated from each other; thought is strong enough to disturb the sense of satisfaction with nature, but is too weak to construct a new world in opposition to it. Life is in a state of painful uncertainty, and man is a "Prometheus bound" in that he must needs experience all the constraint and meaninglessness of the life of nature, and must suffer therefrom an increasing pain without being able to change this state in any way.

The experience of our time confirms this conclusion in no indefinite manner. Since, with regard to the material and the technical, we have attained heights never before reached, the bonds between us and our environment have increased a thousandfold, and our work has united us more closely with the world, we seem now for the first time to attain a sure hold of reality. At the same time, however, the activity of thought, and with it unrestrained reflection, have also increased immeasurably in modern life. This reflection forbids all naïve submission to the immediacy of nature; destroys all feeling of security; and comes between us and our own soul, our own volition. We are thrown back once more on to the world of sense, that we may seek in it a support and a scope for our life and effort; and from the point of view of this world the work of thought appears to be a formation of clouds. But this formation persists; draws us back again to itself and, with all its insubstantiality, proves strong enough to make us regard the physical as appearance. Our life is divided into two parts which cannot and will not coalesce. The emergence of a new life, which can do nothing but comprehend the other in thought, and which, while it is indeed capable of depreciating the other, cannot itself advance further, is seen to involve a monstrous inconsistency.

If the union of nature and intelligence produces so much confusion, we are inevitably led to ask whether man does not possess in himself more than thought; whether thought is not rooted in a deeper and a more comprehensive life, from which it derives its power. It is not necessary that such a life should be manifest to us in all its completeness; we shall also be compelled to acknowledge it as a fact even if in the first place it has to struggle up in face of opposition; however, in its development it must show distinctive contents and powers which could not be the work of a subjective reflection. If there is a life and a development of this kind, it will be necessary for us to comprehend it in its various aspects and tendencies, and only when we have accomplished this may we endeavour to obtain a representation of the whole.