D. KNOWLEDGE
XI
Thought and Perception
(See Exposition on Brief, Chapter 11)
K
NOWLEDGE
permeates perceived reality with
the concepts apprehended and worked through by our thinking. It
supplements and deepens that which is passively received by
means of what our mind through its own activity has lifted out of the
darkness of the merely potential into the light of reality. This
presupposes that perception needs to be supplemented by the mind;
that perception is not in itself something definitive, final,
conclusive.
The fundamental
fallacy of modern science consists in the fact that it looks upon
sense-perception as something conclusive, complete. For this reason
it sets itself the task simply to photograph this existence,
complete in itself. The only view which is logical in this respect is
positivism, which simply rejects every advance beyond perception. Yet
one observes nowadays in almost all branches of science an endeavor
to look upon this point of view as being correct. In the true sense
of the word, such a demand would be adequate only for such a
science as merely enumerates and describes things as they exist
beside one another in space, and occurrences as they follow one
another in time. Natural history of the older type comes closest to
meeting this requirement. The newer type makes the same demand, to be
sure, and sets forth a complete theory of experience — only,
however, to transgress this at once the moment it undertakes
the first step into real knowledge.
If we should wish to lay hold upon
pure experience, we should have to empty ourselves completely of our
thinking. To deny to thinking the capacity for perceiving in itself
entities which are inaccessible to the senses is a degradation of
thought. Apart from the factor of sensible qualities, there must be
within reality a factor which is apprehended by thought. Thinking is
an organ of man ordained to observe something higher than is afforded
by the senses. To thinking is accessible that side of reality of
which a mere sense-being could never become aware. What thought
exists for is not merely to repeat the sensible, but to penetrate
into what is concealed from the senses. The sense-percept gives us
only one side of reality. The other side is the apprehending of the
world through thinking. At first appearance, thought seems to
us something quite alien to perception; for perception enters into us
from without, while thinking works from within outward. The content
of thought appears to us as an inwardly complete organism; all is in
the closest interrelationship. The individual members of the
thought system mutually determine one another; each single concept
has its ultimate roots in the totality of our thought
structure.
At first glance, it seems as if the
inner freedom from contradiction which characterizes thought,
its self-sufficiency, rendered any transition to the percept an
impossibility. Were the thought-characterizations such that they
could be satisfied in one way alone, thinking would really be
confined within itself; we could not emerge from within it. But this
is not the case. These characterizations are such that they may
be satisfied in a variety of different ways; only the element which
produces this multifarious-ness must not be sought within thinking
itself. Let us take the thought-characterization: “The earth
attracts every other body.” We shall observe at once that the
thought admits of the possibility of being fulfilled in the most
diverse ways. But these are variations which can no longer be reached
by thinking. There is room for another element. This element is the
sense-percept. This percept affords such a form of specialization of
thought-characterizations, which is left open by thought
itself.
It is in this
specialization that the world meets us when we make use of mere
experience. Psychologically, that comes first which in point of fact
is the derivative.
In all working
over of reality through cognition, the process is as follows: We meet
with a concrete percept. It confronts us as a riddle. Within us the
impulse manifests itself to investigate its “What?”
— its real nature — which the percept itself does not
express. This impulse is nothing but the upward working of a
concept out of the darkness of our consciousness. We then hold this
concept firmly while the sense percept moves on a parallel line with
this thought-process. The mute percept suddenly speaks a language
intelligible to us; we know that the concept which we have taken hold
of is that real nature of the percept for which we have been
seeking.
What has here come
about is a judgment. It is different from that form of judgment which
unites two concepts without reference to percepts. When I say:
“Freedom is the determination of a being from within
itself,” I have here also formed a judgment. The constituents
of this judgment are concepts not given to me in perception. Upon
such judgments rests that inner unity of our thought which we
discussed in the preceding chapter.
The judgment which
we now consider has for its subject a percept and for predicate
a concept. “This animal before me is a dog.” In such a
judgment, a percept is injected into my thought system at a
determinate place. Let us call such a judgment a perceptual
judgment.
By means of the
perceptual judgment we cognize that a determinate sensible
object corresponds by nature with a determinate
concept.
If, then, we are
to comprehend what we perceive, the percept must have been formed
within us beforehand as a determinate concept. Any object of which
this were not true we should pass by without its being intelligible
to us.
That such is the case is best shown
by the fact that persons who have lived a rich mental life also
penetrate far deeper into the world of experience than do others of
whom this is not true. Much that passes over others without leaving a
trace makes a deep impression upon these persons. (‘If the eye
were not sun-like, it could never see the sun.') But, if may be
asked, do we not meet in our lives innumerable things of which we
have not previously had the slightest conception? — and do we
not on the spot form concepts of these? Undoubtedly. But is the sum
of all potential concepts identical with the sum of those which I
have already formed in the previous part of my life? Is not my
conceptual system capable of evolving? In the presence of a
reality which is unintelligible to me, can I not set my thinking in
action in order that it may evolve on the spot the concept with which
I must match the object? I need only possess the capacity of drawing
a determinate concept out of the store of the thought-world. It is
not that a determinate concept was already consciously known to
me in the previous part of my life but that this concept can be drawn
forth from the world of thoughts accessible to me. Where and when I
grasp the concept is not essential to its content. Indeed, I bring
forth thought-characterizations out of the thought-world. Nothing
whatever flows from the sensible object into this content. I simply
recognize in the sensible object the thought which I draw forth from
within myself. This object induces me, to be sure, to call forth at a
certain moment from the unity of all potential thoughts just this one
thought-content, but it does not by any means furnish me the material
for constructing the thought. This I must draw from within
myself.
When we cause our
thinking to become active, only then does reality attain to true
characterizations. Previously mute, it now speaks a clear
language.
Our thinking is
the interpreter that explains the dumb show of
experience.
Men are so
accustomed to look upon the world of concepts as void of content, and
to contrast with this world the percept as being filled with content
and thoroughly determinate, that it will be difficult for the true
facts of the case to win the place belonging to them. The truth is
entirely overlooked that mere beholding is the emptiest thing
imaginable and that it receives content only from thinking. The sole
truth in regard to the object is that it holds the constant
flux of thought in a determinate form without our having to cooperate
actively in thus holding it. When one who has a rich mental life sees
a thousand things which are nothing to the mentally poor, this shows
as clearly as sunlight that the content of reality is only the
reflection of the content of our minds and that we receive from
without merely the empty form. Of course, we must possess the inner
power to recognize ourselves as the creator of this content;
otherwise we shall forever see only the reflection and never our own
mind which is reflected. Indeed, one who perceives himself in an
actual mirror must know himself as a personality in order to
recognize himself in the reflected image.
All sense-perception finally resolves
itself, as to its essential nature, into ideal content. Only then
does it appear to us transparent and clear. The sciences are to
a large extent wholly unaffected by the consciousness of this truth.
Thought-characterizations are considered the attributes of
objects, like colors, odors, etc. Thus it is supposed that all bodies
are characterized by the definition that they remain in the state
wherein they are — of rest or motion — until an influence
from without alters their state. It is in this form that the law of
inertia plays its role in natural science. But the actual fact is
something quite different. In my conceptual system the
conceptbody exists in many
modifications. One of these is the concept of a thing which can
of itself set itself in motion or come to rest; another is the
concept of a body which alters its state only under an external
influence. These latter bodies we designate as inorganic. If, then, I
meet a certain body which reflects in the percept the above
conceptual definition, I designate it as inorganic and unite with it
all characterizations which follow from the concept of an
inorganic body.
All sciences
should be permeated by the conviction that their content is solely a
thought-content and that they sustain no other relationship to
perception than that they see in the perceptual object a specialized
form of the concept.
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