CHAPTER VI. edit
THE METHOD OF FICHTE, AS SUGGESTED BY THE PRINCIPLES ALREADY LAID DOWN.
THE propositions which we have now studied, form the basis of the system of Fichte. Their relation to one another suggests his method. To understand this method fully, we must for a moment go behind these, and consider some facts in regard to propositions in general.
When we look closely at the nature of propositions, we find that every proposition of resemblance implies a difference; and every proposition of difference, a resemblance. If we say that X is Y, we imply that in some points it is not Y. If we say that X is like Y, we imply that in some respects it is different. So far as the first of these propositions is concerned, if the statement, X is Y, were absolutely true, it would not be made. We should not have X and Y at all. We should have either X or Y. Subject and predicate would be absolutely fused together, and the proposition would cease to exist. This is still more evident in regard to the other proposition, X is like Y. This implies that X is not Y, otherwise the two would not be compared. There must, then, be points of difference by which alone the resemblance can be made possible. On the other hand, it is equally true that all statements of difference imply a resemblance. No one would be so foolish as to deny what no one could have the slightest temptation to affirm. If I say, then, that X is not Y, I imply that there are certain elements in X, by which, if they were taken alone, it might be confounded with Y. Of course the elements of resemblance may be comparatively few, but something, in this case, must have occurred to bring them into prominence. If one says, for instance, that a tree is not a house, it must be because a comparison has been in some way suggested. Perhaps it had been proposed to pass the night in the tree, or under it. This fact, that all resemblance implies a difference, and all difference a resemblance may be illustrated by almost any book of riddles. The same sort of conundrum is sometimes proposed positively, and sometimes negatively. It is largely a matter of accident whether it be in the form, Why is X like Y. or, How does X differ from Y?
Every analysis, then, presupposes a synthesis, and every synthesis presupposes an analysis. When we say that X is Y, we express an analysis, or imply that such an analysis has been made. We recognize the fact that X and Y have already been distinguished from each other. If we say X is not Y, we imply a previous synthesis by which they had been brought together. The process of thought consists largely in the alternate formation of analyses and syntheses. Each at once presupposes and demands its opposite.
This may be very well illustrated by the ordinary processes of logic. In this way the proposition demands the syllogism; and one syllogism leads to another. We say, for instance, A is Z. The statement involves a contradiction; A is evidently not Z. Indeed, the recognition of this difference forms our starting point. We need to justify our affirmation by a synthesis. We find some element, Y, which is common to both. This furnishes the needed synthesis. A is Y, and Y is Z; thus, A is Z. But another analysis is forced upon us. A and Y are not absolutely one. They involve points of difference. A new synthesis is forced upon us. We find the element, X, which is common to both. The process goes on till we reach the last synthesis possible. We had found C to be a basis for a synthesis between A and D. A and C we unite by means of B, At last we face the proposition, A is B. A further synthesis is demanded, but we cannot make it. We have no means left. We must leave the matter to rest upon absolute affirmation, or upon some intuitive perception.
I have thus indicated the method that Fichte follows in this first statement of his philosophy. In each proposition, analysis finds elements of contradiction. These are united by a synthesis. They are, however, only partially united. Extremes still remain that are not brought together. The process continues as far as it can be carried. A fundamental contradiction at last remains unsolved. Appeal is finally made to the practical reason, that cuts the knot which the theoretical reason could not untie.
But analysis—or what may perhaps better be called antithesis—and synthesis presuppose a thesis. Antithetical and synthetical propositions presuppose what may best be called “thetical” propositions. In synthesis, objects that are distinct, are united in some higher conception, as gold and silver in that of metal; thus, a definition involves a statement of both the generic and the specific characteristics. In the thetic proposition, all this is different. Of this the affirmation of itself by the I is an example. This is made absolutely. The I and the Not-me can be united by no synthesis in a higher conception. When they are to be united, the I is reduced to a lower conception—that of divisibility. The two are contrasted under the general idea of divisibility. Here is no going up, as by every synthesis; but there is a going down. The absolute I is indivisible, and nothing can be compared with it. We thus distinguish propositions of which the subject is the divisible I, from those in which the subject is the absolute I. Whatever proposition belongs to the absolute positing of the I, is of this sort, even when the grammatical subject is different. Thus the proposition, Man is Free, is a thetic proposition. It is the result of no synthesis. We do not examine the characteristics of different classes of beings—one consisting of the free, and the other of those that are not free—and decide that man belongs to the former class. There is no such class to be found. We do not separate man negatively from the creatures of nature that are not free, which would imply that he and they were united in some higher generalization. Man, so far as he is free—so far as he is absolute subject—has nothing in common with these creatures of nature.[1] The very idea of freedom, as will be seen later, involves a contradiction. What it is, cannot be learned by experience, for absolute freedom is a goal rather than a fact—a goal which we may forever approach, but which we may never reach. It is a goal which the spirit has set for itself. In like manner, propositions that affirm what may be called ideal relations are to be classed as thetic. Goodness and beauty in their perfection, and thus in their full reality, we have never seen. The ideas of goodness and beauty can thus be the result of no comparison and generalization. Every such idea is an ideal. It is something to be attained. It. is a goal, rather than a starting point.
Our three propositions have found, then, each its appropriate designation. By the first, the I affirms itself. This is a thetic proposition. By the second, it posits the Not-me. This is an antithetic proposition. In the third, it posits the Me and the Not-me as mutually limiting or determining one another. This is a synthetic proposition.
As has been already intimated, the movement of the system will consist in a series of antitheses and syntheses; while the thetic proposition, the absolute assertion of itself by the I, furnishes the starting point, the impulse of the movement, and also the goal toward which the whole tends.
Note edit
- ↑ Sämmtliche Werke, I, 117.