The Calcutta Review/Series 3/Volume 16/Number 2/Idealism and Self
IDEALISM AND THE SELF
Not much advance has been made in Philosophy during the past quarter of a century. There has, to be sure, been a vast amount of writing. Much interesting work has been done in experimental and abnormal psychology; but its results are of doubtful value. There has been any amount of “pottering” in philosophical subjects, and ever so many “opinions” have been expressed, but the reasoning on which they are based leaves us in doubt whether they are to be taken seriously, or merely as freaks of speculation. Ever so many-isms have been invented and vaunted for a time—neo-realism, neo-idealism, pragmatism, Bergsonism, intellectualism, voluntarism, behaviourism and others—each claiming to be the whole truth, obscured hitherto, but now unearthed at last, and destined to supersede everything that has gone before. But the logic with which they are worked out is more suggestive of temporary fads of individuals than of permanent achievement. It is proposed here to take up a particular ism, and inquire into its real meaning and implications. It is one which seems of late to have been much abused and misused, viz., Idealism. Not neo-idealism, because the form here treated is very old, and we must master thoroughly the meanings of what is old, before we can safely presume to renovate it, or substitute anything new. Our purpose is to trace it back to its origin, and find whether it has got any ground to rest on, in experience and commonsense. Has it got any root in reality, that is, in facts of consciousness? or does it rise out of any fundamental principle that will always force itself back into attention, however much obscured and disregarded it may have been for a time?
Common use of the word Idea.—What then are we to understand by Idealism? Ideas are commonly regarded as merely subjective reflections or shadows of realities—of all things the most fleeting and unreal. But Idealism gives to ideas a degree of reality and importance quite foreign to the common ways of thinking. In common thought we distinguish two stages of idea, lower and higher: Thus (a) we receive passing experiences of the surrounding world into our mental system, preserve them there sub-consciously in the form of mental ‘traces’ (in some way not clearly understood), and revive them into consciousness when wanted, as “representations” of past experiences, and call them ideas of memory; and by intellectual elaboration, we derive from them ideas of things never experienced—ideas of past distant and future things, beyond the reach of experience—and call them ideas of imagination. These are theoretical ideas, constituting our knowledge of the world. But (b) again from knowledge of past experience, we come to understand what things are good and not good for us, and thereby form ideas of what will be for our own highest good in the future, and of the lines of action by which we may realise our highest good. These we may call practical ideas, being those by which we regulate our actions. But this common way of using the term idea may seem to have nothing to do with Idealism. What is the meaning of the ism?
Its uses in Philosphy.—We may put aside from the outset the question of Idealism in perception with its unprofitable controversies, and the subjective Idealism of Kant. And it is not enough to say in a general way that the world and its history consist in the realisation of ideas. This might be true in different senses. Thus in every work of art, the maker first devises in his own mind an idea of what is wanted, as a mental picture; and then makes a copy of it in some material substance. This is the common way of applying ideas practically. But Idealism gives more reality to ideas than this way of thinking. Thus the highest ideas may be held to be— (1) Eternal realities seen by reason, and God’s models in creation.—The nature of Idea, in its fundamental sense, and its importance in the making of the world, seems to have been first considered by Plato. In his Timaeus he gives a more or less symbolical and tentative description of creation, in which Idea assumes a new meaning and importance. There is, he thinks, a personal constructor of the world whom he calls the demiurgus or artificer. The demiurgus saw before his mind’s eye the Idea of a world which, if realised, would be perfectly real, beautiful and good. The Idea was not of his own making. Plato saw that what is absolutely real and good must have self-existence in itself as Idea from all eternity, above time and space, and above all will and caprice; and that it can be discerned as an eternal reality by the eye of reason. Still it contained no self-realising energy within itself. It was merely a passive copy or model (paradigma). To become real, it had to be copied in some material foreign to itself. This required another self-existent something. This was called not-being, because it was nothing in particular, but only material out of which things could be made. But idea and matter could not come together of themselves, being both inert, having no energy of their own. But here the demiurgus came forward, and moulded self-existent matter into conformity with the self-existent Idea, and produced the world. But the world was imperfect, because matter, though called not-being, had, it seems, a nature of its own which could not be brought into harmony with that of idea or supreme Good. Hence the imperfection of the world. Here then, Plato claimed absolute reality for idea, but not active self-realising power. But they may be conceived as both—
(2) Eternal realities and principles of self-realising energy.—The Timaeus seems to have been only a symbolical or provisional working-hypothesis. Plato saw that he could not attain a clear conception of the world by assuming three separate realities without any essential connection between them, viz. idea, material, and formative energy to put them together. He saw that it would be necessary to transfer the formative power to Idea itself. He does it in this way. From things which are, we must distinguish things which should be. These are not fancies merely, and only in individual minds; and are not things which come and go, like the fleeting objects of the sensible world around us. They are eternal realities, and their reality consists in this, that they are at the same time powers tending to realise themselves. He began to see that what does nothing has no reality, and that if Ideas are real, they must be made to be such by active power inherent in them. But how could this be? Because they are the forms of what should be; and, as such, though abstract, they press themselves forward into concrete existence, and tend thereby to evolve a world. But having no substance in themselves, they require a substance foreign to themselves, which they may transform into something which will express and embody their own nature. The forces of what should be, must enter into the formless substance of the world, and tend to transform it into a world of concrete things, real (concrete) beautiful and good. The ideas thus manifest themselves by entering into the at first formless substance of the world as soul into body, and evolving it into what it should be, namely, a world of things. These creative powers are many, but they are all included under one, which may be called the idea of Good. This supreme Idea is “the sun of the spiritual world,” that is, the power which gives life and action to all others. And they are perceived as eternal realities by the power of reason inherent in rational beings. They are therefore “Ideas”— forms of what is not, but should be,—and their essence is energy tending towards their own realisation, that is, to enter into and transform the world-substance to their own nature. And the excellence and wisdom of human minds consist in the clearness with which they perceive, and receive into themselves, and thereby become assimilated to, the eternal ideas; and thus come to be lifted into a world of spiritual reality, above the temporary influences of the physical world.
But imply nevertheless a self-existent material apart from themselves.—This then is idealism, and thus far it includes two points: (1) that certain things, viz., ideas may have real existence which do not appeal to the physical senses of touch, sound, etc.; and (2) that they may not have passive reality merely, but may have active power; and that ideas in the highest sense are the self-realising power of what should be. But this is not yet absolute Idealism. It assumes another self-existent world apart from idea, viz.,a formless substance which the creative Idea has to transform into concrete reality, and which it can do with only partial success. Plato’s critics asked how it could be done; how could two such antithetical realities enter into relation with each other? Aristotle and Plotinus criticised and modified Plato’s system, but without making any essential improvement.
Transition to Absolute Idealism.—This question of the nature of Idea and of the origin and meaning of energy and change, was for long passed over in modern philosophy—force and motion being assumed to be self-existent facts, requiring no explanation; or were referred simply to the creative power, without further inquiry. The subject was taken up more directly in the German philosophy of the nineteenth century, and the school of Hegel advanced to absolute idealism. We cannot form any logical conception of the world if we must assume two absolutely independent realities. They could not come into any relation to each other. There is not room in one world for two absolutes. We must think, therefore, that the supreme Idea contains the whole potentiality of the world within itself, without depending on any material, or any limiting obstruction foreign to itself. It must contain both the form of the world and the realising energy which is the real substance of the world. In the ultimate reality we cannot think of the form as being in one place, and the energy as being in another. They require no foreign power to put them together. “There the twain together be.” Form is what is good in itself, or what should be. As such it is not an empty abstraction but is correlative with an energy which makes it to be. The energy is not itself an empty abstraction, but the doing of something, viz., the realising of the form.. Neither ultimate form nor ultimate energy is anything apart from the other; together, they are the one creative Absolute. Hence—
Idea as the ultimate source of Energy and Form, realising itself in eternal process.—Hence we must conceive the ultimate ground of the world as Idea, transforming itself from the abstract potentiality of what should be, into the concrete reality of what is; and the substance of the world, material and mental, as the energy of its so doing. And we must conceive this energy as due to this, that it is the nature of the good or what should be, to raise itself into actuality. The creative power of the world is the Divine Idea.
Why a process?—But the question may be asked, if the Idea thus contains in itself the power of self-realisation, why then does it not realise itself completely and instantaneously like a flash of lightning,—out of place out of time—without any process. Why should this endless process in time and space be needed? The reason clearly is, that it is just in the process of space and time that the realisation consists. A timeless world would be a lifeless abstraction, if it could be said to have any being at all. The concrete reality of the world supposes both Idea and power which is above space and time, and its perpetual realisation in things and events in space and time. The eternal would be nothing without the world of changing things in which it expresses itself, and the world of things would be nothing without the eternal ground out of which they rise. The Absolute would be nothing without the relative, and the relative would be nothing without the Absolute. The truth is the concrete unity of the two. This, it may be noticed, is—
The Rationalist Theory of the World.—Absolute Idealism, therefore, means that the world and its history is the progressive self-development into a world of finite things in space and time, of what is contained potentially in a power which is above space and time, i.e., in Idea,—the evolution being brought about by the energy inherent in the nature of Idea itself, which is the Good of Plato, the realisation of which is reason.
Opposed by the Irrationalist—It is best understood when contrasted with the system to which it is opposed, viz., Realism in philosophy. That word has been used with different shades of meaning but (apart from realism in perception which need not be considered here) they may all be traced back to the following form as being implied in them all. The absolute is not what should be, but what is; and what is, is simply the ‘real’ world as presented in experience. This world, when resolved back into its primitive elements, is found to consist of material (i.e. space-filling) particles in motion. We must assume that these particles together with the motion and direction of motion with which they are endowed, are self-existent and eternal,—as also the space and time in which they move, and their various degrees of moving force. It is useless to speak of reason or purpose in these things; they are antecedent to, and above all reason. We must assume, also, that though the particles are self-existent and each therefore sufficient to itself and independent of all others, yet they have the property of coming into collision in space, of resisting and changing each other’s motions and directions, and of holding one another in equilibrium, and producing compounds more or less stable, and forming themselves into worlds. And we must assume that some of these compounds have the property of becoming conscious of themselves, and producing all the phenomena called mental. And all things must bė assumed to be real in themselves. No reason can be assigned for them, because they are above and prior to reason. Reason comes in at the end, not at the beginning. Reason is only an artifice discovered by finite minds for ameliorating their own condition; and that, though these minds themselves grew by a process in which there was no reason. Therefore Rationalism or Intellectualism which tries to explain everything by reason must be banished from philosophy, giving way to Irrationalism. (And yet, strangely enough, this very system is propagated at the present day under the name of Rationalism.) But what is—
The ultimate source of energy and change?—Hence the fundamental question of philosophy amounts to this: What is the ultimate source of Energy? Energy manifests itself in producing change. What is the nature of this power which produces changes, and makes the world to be a process of unceasing change? According to the realistic theory, change is self-existent in the form of motion, and no explanation can be given. According to the idealistic theory, it is the self-realising power of Idea that makes change. Which is right?
Appeal to the experience of the individual-self.—Still the idealistic theory that Ideas are self-realising powers, iş so contrary to the ordinary way of thinking about ideas, that it may appear altogether paradoxical. The best way of meeting this objection will be to consider whether the theory can be reconciled with our finite experiences of energy; or whether in the interpretation of our conscious experience, we have any evidence that ideas are the moving springs of our own active life. To find this, we must examine our own activity. It is manifested most clearly in what is called Volition, in which the Self concentrates its energy for the attainment of its ends. We have therefore to consider what elements are contained in the Self when it rises into Volition, and what the source is of the energy which it puts forth in voluntary action. Whence does this energy come? Will-energy, to be sure, will be the energy of the individual only, but it is a general principle of science, that the highest and most complex forms of anything, contain the lower and simpler elements “subsumed” in them. Now mental activity is certainly the most complex of all forms of activity (having passed through the almost infinite complexity of organism). Therefore if we find there any explanation of volitional energy, the explanation will apply in some way to nature-energy also.
But the answer as to the nature of will-energy will depend on the nature of the Self which wills, and different opinions have been held of the nature of the Self. It will be necessary for our purpose to examine these views briefly to determine whether the Self can be a source of Energy?
Is the Self a source of Energy?—Psychology shows that mind is really the unity of three correlative functions—feeling, thinking and willing, no one of which has any meaning apart from the others. But there has been a tendency in recent writing to treat them as separable from each other, and even as capable of opposing and defeating each other; or to raise one to supremacy over the others, and make that one to be practically the whole self. As these different theories of the nature of self affect the question of the origin of the self’s energy, they have to be considered separately. First, the theory—
I. That Self is essentially Feeling.—It must be admitted that Feeling is essentially the consciousness of being acted on and affected. In other words, it is the passive side of consciousness. As the self is a finite being, it lives in interaction with other finite beings, viz., the material things and the persons in the midst of which it lives. Its life consists essentially in being acted on by them, and in re-acting upon them; so that its self-awareness has two sides—(i) a consciousness of being affected by other things as in our experience of sensations such as colour, sound, taste, smell, touch, etc., and of the emotions such as fear, anger pity, love, hate and the like—and (ii) a consciousness of reacting to resist and produce changes in other things, which will be the consciousness of volition, activity, energy.
Now according to a view rather common in recent times, the second of these two kinds of consciousness has no real existence. Mind is a consciousness only of effects produced by other things, i.e., of sensations and other feelings. Ideas are clusters of sensations and other feelings retained and revived in memory. Volition is merely an awareness of one set of feelings followed uniformly by another set. Energy is merely a peculiar kind of feeling, impressed upon us by changes in other things; the energy is not in us, but in the things. In short, mind is a purely passive product, having no consciousness of acting, but only of being acted on. Self is only the flow of present feelings, together with past ones preserved and revived. Therefore mind cannot be a source of energy.
Wundt, who in earlier times held the Self to be an active power, gave in latterly to the above way of thinking in his analytical psychology, and thinks that the Self should not be considered even to be the whole stream of feelings. It is only a group of feelings which may appear here and there, more intense than the rest, and thereby forming a centre round which others may group themselves—a view which makes the Self to be still more fleeting and insubstantial. Mind, being merely a shadow which accompanies organic processes, can have no energy—it can do nothing. Hence the theory—
That the Self cannot be a Source of Energy.—It is clear, then, that this conception of the Self can give us no insight into the nature of energy. But it is unnecessary to enter here into its contradictions. It is impossible that we could have any awareness of being acted on by things and affected passively, without a consciousness of reacting by putting forth energy to resist and change things. And further, we could not know that there are any other things if we had not the active consciousness of resisting and acting on them. Acting and being acted on are reciprocal facts, neither of which can be, without the other. If we ask what it is that gives to these fleeting states of feeling the unity of a single mind, we shall probably be referred to the body and brain as giving to mental states the unity and connection required to make them to be one mind. But as the theory limits knowledge to feeling, it leaves us no bridge to the existence of material things existing behind feeling. In short, the feeling-theory leaves us with an altogether incoherent conception of both world and mind. We must then consider the theory—
II. That Intellect is the essential constituent of mind, and thinking therefore, the essence of the Self—the view now called Intellectualism. The feeling-theory is founded on one fundamental oversight—it overlooks the fact that feeling is always a feeling of something, i.e., that it is accompanied by a consciousness that the feeling consists in the Self’s being affected by something and therefore includes an awareness of something other than the Self which feels, and therefore a distinction between the Self which feels and a something which is felt. In other words, feeling contains an element of cognition, viz., a cognition of Self as having the feeling, and of something else as imposing it. Thus sensations of touch, sound, etc., are accompanied by a cognition of an external world of solid things as the ground of these sensations; and emotions of fear, anger, pity, by awareness of other things as occasioning these feelings in us. This means that feeling does not stand alone, but is only a factor in a more complex mental process which includes cognition, intuition, or perception of reality, i.e., knowledge of self as affected in feeling and of not-self as the ground which gives rise to its feelings. Therefore—
The Self manifests energy in thinking.—Thus, underlying elementary feeling, we have the beginning of knowledge. The Self forms ideas of what will produce pleasurable and painful feelings (i.e. of what will affect it for good or for bad), and of what is needful for its own preservation and its own highest Good. Hence in Intellect the active energy of the Self takes two forms (a) that of obtaining knowledge of things from experience, and retaining and reproducing it in the form of ideas, which is theoretical Intellect, and (b) of deriving from these experiences an idea of its own highest good and the means of realising it more and more in the future,—which is practical Intellect. Then the practical knowledge thus obtained guides the energy of the Self to a life of activity for the realisation of its idea of highest Good—which is Volition.
Here then (viz. in a and b) we find the Self putting forth energy as Intellect or faculty of knowledge. And the knowledge which it gives is real and not merely phenomenal or apparent knowledge. Every finite thing manifests its real and essential nature in the energy of resisting and thereby affecting, in various ways, other finite things. And other finite things (when mental), in knowing the influences which come to them from the other things, thereby know the real nature of the things, because the real nature of the things is present in the influences which they disseminate. The common distinction between the appearances and the reality of things is therefore superficial and deceptive, if not altogether unreal. This is a sense of realism in which realism is justified. Reid was right when he said that, in looking at the sun, what we are conscious of is the real sun, because the influences which a thing exercises on other things, are themselves the essence of the real thing and not mere appearances.
Thus in the constant effort to acquire and elaborate ideas and preserve knowledge of things as necessary to its own preservation and higher development, the Self is working intellectually. Are we to say, then, that Intellect is the supreme function of mind, and that the Self is essentially Intellect—considering the other functions to be merely contributory? (Intellectualism.) No.
Thinking is not the whole self.—We can see that intellect is the working of one unitary self, i.e., of a power which connects the successive experiences of life, and perceives them to be revelations of a world of things and events in space and time, and which comes to understand itself as not only the underlying unity of past experiences, but as extending into future time, and as having therefore a highest Good; and which puts forth energy to know the nature of, and the means of realising its Good. This makes it clear that the activity of obtaining knowledge and understanding, is subsidiary to another kind of activity, viz., that applied directly to the realisation of the Good.
But this requires re-action by the self on the external world, and therefore a putting forth of energy to make changes in physical things. And though the work of Intellect is exercise of energy, the term Volition is usually applied to this higher kind to which Intellect is contributory. Hence
III. That the essential nature of the self is Volition in the sense of producing changes in external things. We have found that some hold mind to consist wholly in Feeling or that kind of consciousness which rises from being acted on by other things; while among others there has been a tendency to make it consist mainly in Intellect, i.e., in thinking and acquiring knowledge about things. Recently the tendency has become common to identify the self wholly with Volition as action on other things. This has been called Voluntarism, and, in an extreme form, Behaviourism. This tendency may be carried so far as to separate action (volition) wholly from all dependence on Intellect, and make the person to be a self-regulating machine which operates automatically; and to make thought to be only a form of passive feeling—assuming feeling or consciousness to be only an occasional by-product given off by the working of the organic processes. Man is an accumulation of instincts, or habits of automatic movement without or with consciousness, acquired by the organism in adapting itself mechanically to the changes of the external world. In this way the 18th century theory, “man is a machine” is revived.
If the self exercises energy of its own in Volition, where does it come from?—But this theory of automatism cannot be seriously entertained in the face of experience. In having feelings we cognise the things which give rise to the feelings; and form ideas of things and their properties of giving rise to feelings, pleasurable or painful; and foresee future things and feelings, and form an idea of future Good; and put forth energy to produce change in the world around us which will be conducive to our good. Such a process cannot be automatic merely. Where does this energy come from? It is probable that it comes from the same source ultimately as the Energy of nature. If, therefore, we can determine the origin of this Energy which we have in ourselves, we shall be justified in extending the same explanation to the world beyond us. If we can show that the energy exercised by the self is originated by the mind in realising its own purposes, and that the highest kind of mental activity is that in which the Self reacts on the world in which it lives, and occasions changes in it which will promote its own highest good, then we shall be justified in drawing the conclusion that the energy which makes changes in nature, also, has its source in the realisation of a highest good. And if we could distinguish all the elements contained in this process, we should be able to answer the questions: What is energy and change? What is life? What is the Self which lives and acts?
Here it is necessary to analyse Desire as the state out of which Volition rises—Now first of all, we see that voluntary action springs out of the mental state called Desire. Desire contains, so to speak, the whole Self with all its correlative functions fused into one. It is founded on a consciousness of want, defect, insufficiency. This rises from its awareness of its past and present conditions (derived from experience), and an anticipation of future conditions (founded on reasoning); and from a consciousness of what is good and of a highest Good; and of our own present deficiency, inferiority and need, and of our own nature as essentially energy pressing onwards towards Good. Out of this groundwork of knowledge and this cognition of deficiency, a painful feeling rises, which we may speak of as feeling of Want. But along with this painful feeling of Want (except in cases of despair and extreme despondency) there is also a feeling of Hope which is pleasurable, rising from thinking the probability of coming relief. Indeed there could be no feeling of want without the cognition of something which, if present, would remove the want. That something will be a good, leading on to a more remote highest Good. But this good is present only in Idea—the future in the present. Desire therefore is made to be what it is by the Idea of possible good or goods leading on to a highest Good. Now the essence of life consists in a perpetual striving towards self-preservation, self-development, and towards self-realisation as a Good containing all other goods under it. Hence, in the case of every new action, the energy which is the essence of the self, takes the from of removing this particular Want by realising this particular idea of Good (and more remotely thereby the Highest Good). Thus Desire contains an element of rudimentary action straining and impulse from within which the Self may intensify into full activity. It is feeling of want, idea of good, and impulse to action on the external world to remove the wants. The transition from desire to Volition is (in normal cases) through deliberation in which the Self brings before itself whatever alternative goods there may be until it discerns the superiority and practical realisableness of one; and identifies itself with the realisation of that one.
Here then the points requiring consideration are: the Idea, the Energy which realises the idea, and their relation to the Self. This inquiry involves the old question of—
Causality. Action on the external world supposes causality. The realisation of the Good (in normal cases) involves the production of changes in the external world. This will require causality. The realising power is called cause and the realisation, effect. This introduces here the question of causation, which has been much dicussed in modern times. Can mind possess such causal power or energy? If it possesses energy, does its energy extend to producing changes in physical things? This has often been denied—even of producing changes in its own body. Why? Because causation in the physical world is the transference of motion from one thing to another thing. A cause, therefore, must be a moving thing. But mind is not a moving thing. Therefore mind cannot be the cause of anything in the physical world. When, by volition, the mind seems to produce changes in its own body and other things, it is not really the mind that does it. It is really the physical processes going on in the body and limbs that do it. Mind—the stream of consciousness—is merely a passive accompaniment which does nothing, like the shadow which runs alongside the rushing train. All real work in the universe is motion of particles in space.
But this cannot be maintained seriously (though some psychologists of repute, such as James and latterly Wundt seem to defend it). Causation is not necessarily the transmission of motion, but of change which is not necessarily motion (though some hold that it is). The effect is a change in a thing, and its cause lies in antecedent changes in other things. When we speak of energy, we mean the transmission of change from one thing to another, and the “force” with which the change asserts itself. The real questions before us are: what is it that makes the change in the antecedent thing, and why does it pass over from that thing into another? To be sure, it is not enough to say that one change always follows another—there must be some reason for it. Hence some assume that “force” is a real substantial something which passes out of one thing into another. Or it may be the case, that all changes are so correlated in the absolute as means towards absolute Good that every change follows another in virtue of this universal correlativity. Hence all causality will lie ultimately in the absolute—which is the theory of universal relativity. But this question does not concern as here. What concerns us, is the source of that Energy in the Self which is followed by activity in the organism and change in external things—the energy of Volition. First, then,
Why do things change? But granted that Self has energy to produce change, the question remains; why should there be any such thing as change? Seeing that the meaning of energy is that it produces change, the great question comes to be: what is the meaning of change? Why should there be any change in the universe at all? Granted that there must be a self-existent world of being, why should it not remain always the same in eternal rest? Why is it a world of “striving and straining” to become something different? Why is it not a world of being so much as a world of becoming? Again, all force is the doing of something; there must therefore be something requiring to be one. Can the history of the world be nothing more than the meaningless churning, over and over again, of the same material, full of sound and fury, but signifying nothing. What is world doing? The explanation is that there is—
No change without Want, and Good present in Idea.—The only possible explanation lies in this, that there is some Want, need or incompleteness at the heart of things, making it impossible for being to remain what it is, and making its existence to be perpetual activity to complete and fully realise itself. And as its potentiality is unlimited and can never be exhausted, its actual reality consists in an eternal process of becoming. (Why incomplete and why inexhaustible? Because it is potentially infinite, and infinity cannot be exhausted in a world of finite things.) But Want is meaningless apart from a correlative Good. The Good is something which is not, but should be, and therefore Idea. Therefore the ultimate moving principle of the world is Idea.
What, then, is the relation between the Self and Idea? We may obtain some help to understand the meaning of change and energy from the analogy of the finite Self. In the Self the above elements are consciously present in Desire. In it we have the feeling of Want, the Idea of future good, and the self-preserving and realising energy which is the Self—the Self being essentially activity for the attainment of the good.
Here then, the subject requiring consideration is the relation of the Idea to the Self. Does the self make the Idea, or does the Idea make the Self? The Self is essentially activity; but activity is doing something, and what the Self does, is to preserve and realise further its own highest Good. It is in this that its life consists. The Idea of Good is not a fiction of the Self’s own making; it sees it to be potential in its own existence, and feels its own life to consist in the activity of realising it.
Conclusion that the Self is Idea.—It follows then that Idea is an active self-realising principle, and that the life of the Self—the whole process of organic and mental evolution—is essentially an Idea or purpose realising itself, and that the Self (organic and mental) exists in virtue of its Idea, i.e., its plan, purpose, use in the system of things; and that the energy of Volition is the Idea pressing into actuality. Idea, therefore, in the highest sense is the future operating in the present—the non-existent pressing into existence—not-being rising into being. In the Idea, the future Good and the present Want are both present, and the two together make the continuous flow of action—the élan vital or will to live—which constitutes the life of Self. And the analogy must be extended to the life of Nature. There also, action must spring from a future Good present as Idea and removing a Want. But—
Does this take away the reality of Self? This view, that the Self is Idea, appears at first to be an idle paradox. The self has been considered the type of “reality,” and, as such, it has often been explained by the analogy of objects of sense-perception, as a grain of sand or flake of flint, which seems so indestructible. Thus reality has been identified with hardness and impenetrability of things in space. But Ideas are not particles of resisting substance. Therefore the theory takes away all reality from the self.
But such inert things possess only a low kind of reality. A “real” in the highest sense is what not only maintains, but develops its own existence in interaction with other things, and thereby, realises an end and serves a purpose—i.e., a living something. Its stability is stability of purpose. It is not in filling space but in persistence of self-realisation that its reality consists—a reality of action, not of spatial passivity. What would deprive the self of reality is not the ideal theory, but that of the naturalistic school—that mind is only an ‘epiphenomenon’. or occasional result of the physical processes of body, like sparks struck out by grating machinery, possessing no causal significance. Further, if we are taking away the reality of things by resolving them into energy, then Idealism is not alone at fault; the naturalistic philosophies do the same—With this difference that Idealism gives a reason for so doing; materialism does not.
It need not be assumed, however, that Idea and consciousness are fully co-extensive. Idea is a synthesis of tendencies which may exist without rising into consciousness. Full self-awareness and self-control are latent potentialities in that Idea which is the essence of the Self. But in the abysmal depths of its personality there may be a world of potentialities which remain Idea unrealised, and beneath the level of self-consciousness.
But can there be such a thing as an absolute Good? To this extension of the Idea of Good to the Absolute the. usual objections may be urged: that good is a meaningless word when applied to the absolute, and that absolute good, even if absolute good were possible, would be altogether unthinkable to a finite and relative being.
But to a correct conception of the absolute, good has a meaning. Its absoluteness does not consist in its being an inert block of substance, but in its infinite power of self-realisation—it is not dead being, but living becoming. And further, a relative being, just because it is relative, is a function in the life of the absolute, a finite reproduction; and hence there must be some analogy, however remote—something in common, proportionate to their difference. Indeed we may say: as the absolute is to absolute good, so is the relative being to relative good.
Hence the Idealistic conception of the World—We may here consider, then, the general conception of the world to which this theory leads. The energy which evolves the world is not self-existent and meaningless in itself. It does not work at random. It has its spring in Idea and purpose. Everything real has a reason for its existence. It is not due to chance or blind necessity, but to some need in the system of things, and it is in its fulfilment of purpose that reality consists. “Whatever is real is rational.” What does not meet some need, is unreal. And all lower reasons and goods converge towards higher ones, and ultimately towards the one wide end which closes all—the Good of Plato, the Theos of Aristotle, the Reason of Plotinus, the absolute Idea of Hegel, the supreme God of religious faith.
It is implied further that the world is a system in which the Future counts, sub specie aeterni, as well as the past and present. In the absolute Idea there are three moving correlatives, the past, the present and the future. The future is the world of unrealised potentiality,—of non-being. The future is not nothingness, any more than the past; and is not passive, but co-operates with past and present in making the flow of actuality. The future operates in the present as Idea. This unceasing flow of non-being into being, of Idea into actuality, constitutes Time. Time is not an unreal abstraction, nor an empty vessel into which events flow, but a factor of the eternal self-realising life. The absolute is not a thing which can be completed and finished off in a given time, but an essence containing infinite potentiality and energy of self-realisation, and its potentiality is Good pressing into actuality—the essence of God Almighty. But—
Does Idealism make God to be imperfect? It may be objected to this way of thinking that it seems to make God, the highest reality, to be imperfect; and to make the life of God to be an eternal effort to overcome imperfection, and at the same time to make that imperfection to be so inherent in the nature of God that it cannot be overcome. There is, however, misunderstanding here. We must regard the ultimate power from two points of view. As infinite potentiality and energy of Idea, it is perfect, eternal and unchangeable. In realising its potentiality in a world of finite things, it gives rise to, and therefore experiences an inexhaustible series of changes. This passing from abstract potentiality into the concrete actuality of finite worlds, may be described from the finite point of view as a need and imperfection. But it is just in this that its perfection consists; viz., in thereby passing eternally from abstract power into concrete life. Or rather it is the unity of the two correlative ‘moments’—the eternal oneness of the Idea and the inexhaustible process of self-realisation—the unity of one and many—that its perfection consists. Neither would be anything without the other; together they constitute highest reality and Good. The separation of the two correlatives and the completion and cessation of the process would mean relapse into universal death. Together in their correlation they are eternal life. Viewed therefore sub specie deterni, the apparent imperfection thus ascribed to God, is absolute Perfection.
Yet this objection may have been what actuated Aristotle and Plotinus in their attempt to break off all connection between the being of God and that of the world, as between perfection and imperfection. But by so doing they made God to be an abstraction merely, which, in philosophy as in practical life, could be easily ignored (e. g., Scepticism, Epicureanism). The Biblical doctrine of the Logos or Divine Idea rather pointed to a reconciliation of absolute and relative in one perfect being.
Future existence.—The question may be asked; how does Idealism affect the question of the continuation of the finite Self after death? Clearly, by making the essence of human nature to be an Idea or purpose, it promises continuance of existence (1) so long as the Self continues to fulfil its purpose and (2) so long as its purpose is incomplete and unexhausted. If it fail in its purpose, it will simply “fall out of line,” and sink into nothingness, because fulfilment of purpose was the essence of its existence. On the other hand, we may suppose its purpose to become fully fufilled—its Idea, fully realised. In this case the individual will become identified with its fulfilment, and cease to be an individual as we understand the term. Still this may not be the same thing as being annihilated—if may still live in the accomplished purpose though we cannot conceive how. But on the other hand its purpose may be eternal as a factor in the absolute Idea, and the life of the individual may therefore be in some form eternal, viz., as being contained in the life of the absolute.
This view, then, has to be considered in comparison with other possible views such as (a) that individual soul is an occasional and accidental by-product of the material processes of the organism, with no substantial reality of its own; (b) That it is an eternal and indestructible unit of substance and independent of everything else—having existence inherent in its nature (as was once supposed to be the case with atoms of matter). But in this case, it would be without life as we know it, because life is the activity of self-preservation and self-realisation, and therefore never complete in itself but a perpetual becoming. (c) Or we may be satisfied with simply saying that God made it as it is, and inquire no further. But if God made it and God does nothing without purpose, then it must be the embodiment of a purpose, and its life must be contained in the realisation of the Divine Idea.
Is Idealism refuted by the existence of Evil? This doctrine, however, that whatever is real is rational, brings us back to the perennial difficulty of the origin of evil. This rational world is full of things which appear to us to be irrational. The Good which is here held to be (as Idea) the creative power of the world, is mingled everywhere with evil. The difficulty of reconciling evil with the supremacy of good, led the ancient idealists to qualify their idealism with an element of dualism.
They thought it necessary to assume (apart from Idea) a self-existent world of material, somewhat disguised under the name of non-being, which resists the transforming influence of the good. And in religious thought this negative has appeared under various names, such as Ahriman, Satan, Mephistopheles. But absolute Idealism recognises only one ultimate principle, and has therefore no such resource. Even evil will have to be conceived as rising out of the Divine Idea.
Some attempts to explain evil.—Various explanations have been offered. Thus it may be said that good consists in overcoming evil, and can therefore exist only in relation to it. Evil is a necessary part of the same system to which good belongs. “All partial evil, universal good.” Or it may be held necessary as an obstruction in the way of good. Or evils may be held to be means towards the production of good. Hence what is evil from the finite view-point, may be good sub specie aeterni.
Or it may be argued that good cannot be realised in a world of lifeless abstractions; it can be so only in a world of concrete and finite things, rising into self-conscious minds and wills. Then, every mind will be an idea, covering a good of its own. In such a world a conflict of goods and therefore struggle, tension, and failure will be an essential element. Therefore the realisation of the Idea will consist in a struggle towards a harmonization of individual goods under one universal Good, and this process will nevér be exhausted because the life contained in the absolute Idea is infinite; and it will be in this process of infinite reconciliation that the good is realised. Completion of the process would make the infinite to be finite. And, as there would be “nothing more to do,” it would mean the cessation of all activity and therefore of all life—if not, the relapse of the world into nothingness.
The principle of individuation, or question how individual ideas are differentiated from each other in the process of the absolute, and from the absolute itself, need not be considered here.
It is safe to say, however, that nothing is to be gained, either theoretically or practically, by abandoning the Idealist theory and falling back on any of the realistic hypotheses of self-existent force, chance and fate, in any of their forms.
H. Stephen