Crusius, Christian August: Road to certainty and reliability (1747)

Crusius seems to be going through different philosophical disciplines somewhat systematically. He started from practical philosophy, moved on to metaphysics and Weg zur Gewißheit und Zuverlässigkeit is a book on logic.

Just like Wolff, Crusius begins his treatise on logic with a preliminary study of philosophical disciplines. First, he defines philosophy as the sum of such cognitive states that have to do with truths of reason that have a constantly enduring object. Here, the truths of reason, he adds, are such that can be known from consideration of natural things, opposed to truths of revelation. Philosophical truth, as Crusius understands it, is such that can be known through mere reason and that must have an object that is either simply necessary and unchangeable or endures constantly in the current world so that it cannot naturally stop existing. Philosophy should then deal with the essence of things and the causes of what we perceive, Crusius thinks, because these are constant. Individuals, on the other hand, might not be, but if they are, they also are among objects of philosophy. Then again, variable individuals are dealt in philosophy only, if it sheds light on some constant objects.

Crusius combines this concept of philosophy with the goal of human nature in order to determine what good philosophy is like. Firstly, he says, good philosophy must be true and grounded in distinct concepts, correct proofs and insight about the true relations of things. Distinctness, Crusius adds, does not mean understanding something, but only an ability to distinguish the topic of the concept from other topics. Similarly, he adds, correct proofs do not always require geometric certainty, but probability suffices. Insight, finally, is not necessarily linked to any single method, according to Crusius. In addition, he states, good philosophy should not concern mere common and familiar things and also not mere perceptions of existence, but try to find their real grounds. The final requirements for good philosophy are that it is useful and sharp in the sense that it comes with a distinct representation of the manner in which it has been abstracted.

Just like many philosophers of the time, Crusius differentiates between philosophical and historical knowledge. Philosophical knowledge, he says, explains the grounds of things, while historical knowledge concerns only events in their existence. Philosophy does not exclude all historical knowledge, Crusius explains, because it should concern the existence of all unchanging things, but it cannot show the real ground for non-sensuously existing things, being able only to prove their existence. Then again, he adds, while philosophy is not opposed to historical knowledge, it is opposed to history of changing things, although this can be a means for knowing philosophical truths. Furthermore, even philosophical truths can be known historically, if one does not know how they are proven, while one can have philosophical knowledge of changeable things, if one knows their ground. Thus, Crucius concludes, philosophy is not identical with philosophical knowledge.

Crusius divides objects of philosophy into magnitudes of extension, which are dealt by mathematics, and anything else, which is dealt with philosophy in the strict sense of the word. Mathematics he particularly divides into pure mathematics studying magnitudes in abstract and applied mathematics studying magnitudes concretely in certain natural things. He then goes on to divide pure mathematics into arithmetics or study of discrete magnitudes, geometry or study of continuous magnitudes and algebra or study of magnitudes in general. Applied mathematics, Crusius states, could have an infinitely many kinds of objects, but as a part of philosophy it should study only unchangeable natural objects (thus, architecture, for instance, is not a part of philosophical applied mathematics, although its method would be philosophical). The proper parts of applied mathematic, he insists, fall into two broad categories: astronomical sciences dealing with magnitudes abstracted from celestial bodies (including Earth) and sciences of movements of natural bodies, such as mechanics and optics.

Crusius notes that mathematics has often been distinguished from philosophy proper, although the latter does not have any peculiar object of its own, but deals with everything that is not mathematical. He suggests that this habit implies that there must be more to this distinction, in other words, philosophy in a strict sense should be studied in a different manner from mathematics. Crusius begins to search for this distinction by thinking about the object of mathematics or quantities as quantities. In order to enable studying quantities, mathematics has to assume that nothing else is variable but the magnitude of the objects it studies, while everything else we perceive in these objects must be essential. In other words, he explains, the objects studied in mathematics must be so simple that change of any non-quantitative feature or quality would make it a different entity (for instance, a triangle that can have only a certain number of sides). This is something not true of objects of philosophy, which might change e.g. their figure without changing their essence.

Because the objects of mathematics are so simple, Crusius argues, a mathematician can take just a single thing and abstract from this one instance a definition that applies only to this kind of object. Thus, he adds, a mathematician could also define quantities by telling how they are generated, which is not true of philosophy. Then again, Crusius thinks that mathematics does not study goals or even causes, while in philosophy the essences of things might depend on goals and causes.

When it comes to mathematical methods, Crusius suggests, mathematics rarely divides things in species, since its objects are usually too simple for divisions. Because of this, he continues, mathematics rarely uses disjunctive proofs. Especially pure mathematics, on the other hand, has to use the strongest form of deduction or demonstration. This is connected to the fact that pure mathematics is heavily dependent on the proposition of contradiction, and indeed, Crusius thinks, it should use no other principles, because it investigates such abstract topics that could be understood from the definitions with the help of the principle of contradiction. Philosophy proper cannot do this, he adds, when studying e.g. concrete causes. Crusius discovers also a more logical feature characterising mathematics. That is, he says, mathematical propositions, where one quantity universally determines another, can be converted, so that the second quantity determines also universally the first quantity, while in philosophy proper converting a universal proposition leads in general to a mere particular proposition.

From mathematics, Crusius turns to the division of philosophy proper. He begins by pointing out that some objects of philosophy proper are simply necessary or at least must exist in every possible world, while others are contingent in the sense that they could fail to exist, even if some world is assumed to exist. Crusius still does not want to divide philosophy into necessary and contingent parts, because in case of practical truths this division would cause difficulties. Instead, he advocates dividing philosophy into metaphysics, studying necessary theoretical truths, and disciplinal philosophy, studying both contingent and practical truths. Proceeding to metaphysics, Crusius divides it into ontology, studying the general essence of things in general and their a priori distinctions, theoretical natural theology, studying God, together with divine properties and actions, and cosmology, studying the necessary essence or world in general and everything derived from it a priori. He also mentions as an important part of cosmology the metaphysical pneumatology, studying the necessary essence of spirits.

Crusius divides the objects of disciplinal philosophy into three kinds: bodies, nature and use of understanding and truths pertaining to human will. The first type or the bodies, he says, is studied by physics, which reduces experiential truths about bodies to their causes and uses both to deduce more of their properties and effects. Crusius notes that physics contains innumerably many sub-disciplines, but that the physics proper deals with the most general truths concerning bodies. He also mentions as more particular parts of physics the medicinal sciences and teleology as the study of purposes of natural bodies.

Crusius is very brief on logic: he has plenty of time to delve on that topic later on. For now, he merely defines logic as the study of capacities and effects of understanding and its use in knowing truth and mentions that sometimes noology is separated from logic as an independent discipline studying the essence of understanding.

The final object of the disciplinal philosophy or human will, Crusius states, is studied by two sciences, thelematology and practical philosophy. Of these two, he explains, thelematology studies the essence, natural capacities and properties of will, while practical philosophy studies rules for directing its actions and passions. Crusius insists that unlike e.g. Wolffians had done, thelematology and the previously mentioned noology should not be classified within metaphysics, since neither of these two disciplines deals with necessary things.

Moving on to practical philosophy, Crusius divides it to natural right in the widest sense, studying human will in relation to divine natural laws, and prudence, studying human will in relation to its own purposes. He insists that the two disciplines should not be confused, although it has been done often, starting from ancient philosophy, so that the drive for happiness has been seen as natural law. Crusius further divides natural right into general practical philosophy, studying grounds of obligation and their consequences, kinds of duties and grounds of their application and collisions, and more determined disciplines, explaining main classes of duties, including ethics, studying virtuous direction of one’s own mind and other conditions, natural moral theology, studying immediate duties toward God, and natural right in the strict sense, studying duties of humans toward one another. The natural right in the strict sense, he notes, divides into universal public right, studying duties of rulers and subjects toward one another, and universal right of nations. Because natural laws are divine laws, he adds, all the parts of natural right in the wider sense form the practical part of natural theology. Finally, Crusius divides prudence into general prudence, studying general readiness of reasoning spirit to choose and apply means appropriate for goals, private prudence, studying goals of individuals, and state prudence, studying goals of community.

Crusius notes that he has used different words for the various divisions of philosophy, such as theory (Lehre) and science (Wissenschaft). He explains that science, when it is understood objectively and not as a capacity of understanding, means such a sum of scholarly truths that is of remarkable extension and that is collected together because of some reason, because it wouldn’t make sense to deal it as one whole without any reason to do so. Crusius adds that it is indifferent to science, what kind of proofs are used in it, as long as they are correct in their kind. By theory, on the other hand, Crusius means any piece of knowledge that is remarkably raised above common knowledge, whether according to matter, that is, by concerning things that could not be known without purposefully learning about them, or according to kind of knowledge, that is, as being logically better arranged than common knowledge.

Every science, then, has a reason or ground why this collection of truths is taken as a whole. Crusius divides these reasons into four kinds. First reason is that the truths of a science come under a common concept, which has species or individuals that we want to study: examples of sciences based on such a reason are physics and geometry. Second reason is that the truths of a science are parts, determinations or consequences of a real whole. Crusius suggests as examples in this case physiology and thelematology. He includes under this case also sciences that are further determinations of a concept that earlier was thought concretely and indeterminately, like with logic. The third reason is that the truths are derived from a general and determinate fundamental proposition, like with natural right, and finally, the fourth reason is that the parts of a science relate like means to an end, like in ethics and algebra.

According to Crucius, reasons or grounds of science should be adequate. He suggests several rules for deciding this. Firstly, Crusius says, a science should be extensive enough. This means, he explains, that it must have enough truths going beyond common knowledge, and if it is a philosophical science, it should study things that endure or that have principles that endure. Crusius notes that this criterion depends on the intended purpose of the science: according to some purpose, a science should be divided, while with another purpose it should be combined with other sciences. Thus, he confirms, the division of truths into different sciences should produce real usefulness. Then again, Crusius adds, if there is no reason important to do otherwise, one should not depart from common divisions of sciences. A possible important reason might be, Crusius suggests, if an essential class of truths would not be sufficiently perceived or if otherwise such truths would be confused. Finally, he notes, application of these rules is based on postulates that can be perceived, but not clearly proven, thus, there is much arbitrary in determining number and limits of sciences.

Crusius notes several consequences of his account of the rules for dividing sciences. Firstly, he says, even if these rules are followed perfectly, there still might be special needs for individual treatises having their own themes. Even further, Crusius says, for a special purpose, an extensive theory could be ordered differently than would be naturally correct. Finally, he notes, since sciences often depend on other sciences, there isa need for encyclopaedias that order sciences hierarchically.

Crusius envisions two reasons for studying philosophy. Firstly, he says, philosophy is useful in its matter, that is, the determined truths of philosophy, because truths about constant things can be used in all sciences as axioms for correct proofs. Indeed, Crusius adds, even truths about variable things are grounded in constant truths. The second reason to study philosophy, he continues, is that a thorough examination of philosophy leads to a cultivation of understanding philosophy, at least if philosophy is not studied just historically. Thus, Crusius thinks, although metaphysics is the first a priori science and physics the first a posteriori science, the study of philosophy should still start from logic.

Crusius notes that many oppose the notion that philosophy is useful and might even despise it. Sometimes, he explains, this attitude might be caused by its disordered state. A further reason, Crusius suggests, is that it is thought to be dispensable, because there are practically learned people, who know no philosophy. Furthermore, he adds, some might think philosophy is unuseful, because they suppose it cannot be applied in practical life, because its methods cannot be applied anywhere beyond philosophy, because philosophers disagree so much with one another and because there are philosophers who have had no success in practical life. Crusius notes that some think studying philosophy is even shameful, because it is a waste of time and a source of errors even in practical life.

Crusius admits that philosophy as precise knowledge of unchangeable truths of reason is not necessary for all professionals or even for all scholars, because human understanding does have a natural feeling of true and false. Still, he insists, philosophy is useful for the two earlier mentioned reasons that it teaches truths and improves our understanding. This indicates, according to Crusius, a moral necessity to learn philosophy, if one just is capable of this. Furthermore, he continues, one demands too much of philosophy, if one thinks that theoretical knowledge of philosophy alone should be enough for practical professions, when they still require more particular disciplines and even historical knowledge. Indeed, Crusius says, all useful scholarship requires well-based theory and many-sided exercise. He also points out that faults found in theories of a specific philosopher do not touch philosophy in general: it is not the fault of philosophy, if someone uses it incorrectly.

Still, Crusius thinks, philosophers themselves have a lot to blame for their negative reputation, since its history is a story of errors. Philosophy has to be dealt with carefully, he emphasises, but adds at once that this is taught by philosophy itself, especially in logic. Crusius admits that one still needs other means to avoid faulty philosophical concepts, in order to avoid partial bias, or one has to train one’s mind to be able to appropriate truth. This implies, he explains, that one should get used to paying attention to things, one should learn to be patient and diligent in order to not stop working too early, one should learn to be impartial, modest and prepared, one should not be too sceptical nor too eager to believe, one should less contradict others than to search for the truth, since disputation does not lead to anything positive, and one should be virtuous, in order to be worthy of divine providence.

Crusius suggests investigating the relation of philosophy and Christian theology, because they are often depicted as and sometimes are enemies, but need not be. He begins by noting that it is false to think that philosophical knowledge could generate a belief in the revealed truths, Furthermore, Crusius adds, philosophy cannot be used to gain the approval of the opponents of Christianity through the refutation of their errors. Similarly, he notes, based on revelation, philosophy cannot make people at current stage of humankind truly virtuous. Crusius also thinks that philosophy is not indispensable for theology, because a theologian can also use natural abilities of understanding. Indeed, he suggests, the danger of abusing philosophy in relation to theology is greater than in relation to other truths.

What reason is left for the theologian to learn philosophy? Crusius states that revelation does not free us from the duty to cultivate our understanding and to know God from divine works. Furthermore, he adds, philosophy helps to make theology more ordered and well founded and to show why objections against it are unfounded. Crusius also thinks that it shames atheists to see that believers can be sharp thinkers. Finally, he insists, study of theology becomes systematic through the habit of sharp thinking. Crusius emphasises that all heresies are not born of philosophy, since they can be also generated by lack or misuse of philosophy and not by true philosophy. Still, he thinks, one has to be careful in applying philosophy to theology, since the former often uses without restrictions propositions that need restrictions in the field of theology.

Crusius also thinks that philosophers can gain advantages from Christianity. Firstly, he says, Bible contains truths of theoretical natural theology and practical philosophy and of true historical conditions of the origin of the world and of its current state, thus, a philosopher could learn from it many truths they otherwise wouldn’t know. Furthermore, Crusius adds, a philosopher can find errors in their conclusions, if they find them contradicting with the Bible. He answers the objection that theological truths could not be philosophical by insisting that no matter what the source of true proposition (e.g. testimony of others or our own ingenuity), it can still be philosophical, as long as a constant ground for it could be found from the observation of natural things.

Crusius concludes the chapter by listing the most important and most general means for learning philosophy. First and foremost, he begins, one should search for a capacity to increase one’s capacity to learn, which means studying logic. Then, he continues, one should get as complete a concept of the whole area of philosophy as possible, because sciences hang so closely together that not knowing one can lead to errors in understanding others. Furthermore, Crusius says, one should get used to attending to everything one observes, since good attention can always reveal opportunities to learn new things or to make old truths more distinct. He warns the reader not to learn everything by oneself, because that leads usually to uniform understanding and one-sided knowledge of things, and in order not to rely just on one’s own meditation, one should read texts of others, especially when one is just starting to study. He also emphasises that these guidelines should be followed constantly, in order to make them a habit. Crusius especially underlines the need to study history of philosophy, because it is important to learn about possible theories and to show the importance of being careful, and to study mathematics, because it trains understanding and it helps to show the difference between mathematics and philosophy proper.

Georg Friedrich Meier: Figure of a true philosopher (1745)

Meier’s philosophical work has so far been refreshingly different from what German philosophers of the period in general have been doing. We’ve already seen Meier tackle with the topic of humour, and now he will attempt to paint the picture of a true philosopher in his Abbildung eines wahren weltweisen.

Meier’s motive for writing his work is to eradicate prejudices laymen have against philosophers. Problem is, Meier says, that there are innumerably more philosophers in name only than there are real philosophers. By painting a general picture of a true philosopher Meier aims at silencing critics who fault philosophy for quirks of individual would-be philosophers.

In addition to this advantage of marketing philosophy for non-philosophers, Meier’s image should also serve philosophers themselves. It should serve as an instruction manual for becoming a philosopher and as a measuring stick, with which to evaluate development of oneself and others, even if no human being could ever completely fill the shoes shown in Meier’s image.

Meier borrows Baumgarten’s definition of philosophy as the highest science, concerning general properties of all things, which can be known without the help of faith. Meier admits that a perfect knowledge of philosophy cannot be reached by mere humans, but only by God, who knows literally everything. Meier’s image of a true philosopher takes into account the necessary limitedness of humans: true philosopher, he says, does not try to know more than is humanly possible. Furthermore, a true philosopher knows that humans have more important duties than learning philosophy, like serving other people.

Although humans cannot know everything and shouldn’t spend their lives solely with philosophy, within these limits the true philosopher tries to emulate the divine omniscience, Meier notes. This means, firstly, that the true philosopher should have extensive knowledge of all philosophical disciplines and other fields of learning. This does not mean that they should know everything in an equal fashion. Instead, Meier says, the true philosopher should choose one discipline that they learn extremely well. Thus, different philosophers could specialise in different topics.

Meier remarks that the true philosopher chooses the easiest route to knowledge. Thus, they do not try to learn all by themselves, but read philosophical books and listen to other philosophers. Still, they will also themselves strive to enrich the field of human knowledge with their own investigations.

Not all truths are of equal value, Meier says, but some are of more value and nobility than others. Some truths of lesser value even a true philosopher must know - some of these form a sort of philosophical ABC - but they should strive to know the more valuable ones. Nobility of a truth has nothing to do with it concerning concrete topics, Meier notes, although common people often discredit abstract truth as worthless. Indeed, he continues, the true philosophers are the best to recognise what sort of truth is noble. Meier himself points out two characteristics of such truths. Firstly, such truths and their consequences touch upon many important things, like religion, state, virtue and the happiness of whole humankind. Secondly, knowing noble truths requires more effort, while common truths are easy to know.

In addition to nobility, Meier adds, the true philosopher has to know fruitful truths, that is truths which have many useful consequences. In other words, the true philosopher is no bookworm, but knows what’s most helpful in different walks of life. Then again, Meier insists that all truths could be deduced from other truths and are in principle equally useful. True, we humans cannot always recognise such connections, but the true philosopher should still be ready that a seemingly useless truth will prove to be important for someone else.

Clarity is also a virtue of a true philosopher, Meier says. This means, firstly, that they try to use logic for clarifying what they know by finding signs required for defining things. Meier notes that this is not to be regarded as pedantry. Indeed, the true philosopher is not a mystic, who delights in inclarities. Still, Meier adds, the true philosopher know also the limits of definition and understands that everything cannot be defined so clearly. Thus, they are no charlatans who would offer mere tautologies, when definitions cannot be given. The true philosopher is especially keen on making their own special discipline as clear as possible, leaving petty things undefined.

Meier follows Baumgarten in accepting that clarity means not just logical acuteness, but also strength of representations. Thus, Meier wants that the true philosopher should not try to perfect just their understanding, but also their imagination, wit and other faculties. In other words, the true philosopher should be an aesthetician, who can tell beautifully and vividly about the things they know.

An evident, but quite crucial side of a true philosopher is, Meier emphasises, that they try to be as correct as is humanly possible. Again, this is not completely possible for a human being, but the true philosopher tries to at least minimise the possibility of an error by choosing wilful ignorance over an unfounded dogmatism. In other words, the true philosopher is no blind sectarian.

Truth for Meier does not mean just that something is correct, but also orderliness. Hence, he wants that the true philosopher should also know things in an ordered fashion. This means that the knowledge of the true philosopher is regulated in accordance with the highest principles of knowledge - principles of non-contradiction and sufficient reason. The knowledge of the true philosopher is so ordered in a hierarchy of disciplines, where some are dependent on more general disciplines.

In addition to having clear knowledge, Meier continues, the true philosopher should have a clear notion of knowing these things. In other words, they should be certain of their knowledge. The way to make one’s knowledge more certain, Meier says, is to demonstrate it, of if that is not possible, to back it up with lesser justifications. Of course, full certainty is not always possible for a human being nor is it a guarantee for the truth of something. Thus, Meier admits, the true philosopher is ready to accept things only hypothetically, until further evidence clears the matter.

Meier is also adamant that the true philosopher should put their knowledge into practice. In principle, Meier says, this could be done with any knowledge. Yet, it is especially true about knowledge concerning ourselves, that is, anthropology, which Meier takes to be of utmost importance to the true philosopher. Furthermore, he continues, the true philosopher should take the duties of practical philosophy seriously and find in them motives for their actions.

Meier also notes the true philosopher should have good motives for learning philosophy. We have already mentioned one of them, namely, that of emulating God and thus perfecting oneself. In addition, he remarks, the true philosopher is motivated to help others, and in general, to work for the good of the whole humanity.

Joachim Darjes: Elements of metaphysics I (1743)

Darjes is quickly becoming one of the most interesting second-generation Wolffians. In his logical works he has shown himself to have an analytical mind with an ability to make clear and still profound distinctions, has manifested extensive historical knowledge of such then rarely mentioned things like the medieval theory of supposition, and finally, has been quite original, for instance, in his metaphysical reading of predication. It will be interesting to see whether this positive view will continue through the first part of his metaphysical work, Elementa metaphysices.

As metaphysics is in the heavy core of philosophy, I will use several articles to go through in more detail what Darjes had to say about its many facets. I shall begin by asking what he himself considered to be the nature of metaphysics. We find an interestingly original take already in Darjes' view on the nature of philosophy. While previous Wolffians had either emphasised the object of philosophy – e.g. happiness – or then saw the essence of philosophy in finding reasons, for Darjes philosophy is all about abstracting. In other words, Darjes does not think philosophy or science is about explaining things, but about describing their general features.

Darjesian definition of metaphysics seems more in line with the Wolffian tradition. Its topic, Darjes says, are possible objects and the primary genera to which the possible objects divide into. Metaphysics then divides naturally into two different disciplines – ontology as the study of possible objects as such and special metaphysics as the study of primary genera of possible objects.

Thus far the division of metaphysics with Darjes doesn't seem surprising, but when it comes to special metaphysics, Darjes introduces some interesting novelties. Like with many Wolffians, for Darjes basic division of things was into simple and composite things. Darjes found from this division two primary parts of special metaphysics – monadology and somatology. This was already a bit of a novelty, since this division did not completely correspond with the usual division into cosmology on the one hand, psychology and natural theology on the other hand. While e.g. Wolff's cosmology contained a study of elements, in Darjesian division elements as simple objects were a topic to be handled in monadology – they formed the topic of monadology proper.

In addition to monadology proper, Darjes divided monadology into psychology – study of souls – and something called pneumatology – study of spirits – where both souls and spirits were not elements of bodies. We will have to consider the full import of this division later, but at least the pneumatology should contain natural theology as the study of infinite spirit, while finite spirits should be the topic of pneumatology proper. Just like other Wolffians, Darjes suggests that psychology should have an emprical side, because experiences are our only route to some capacities of souls. Darjes also extends this demand to pneumatology, which should have its own experimental side.

The main difference from other Wolffians is the lack of world as a proper topic of metaphysics. Indeed, this is quite logical, since world is not a primary genera of entities, but a collection of some of them – bodies form a corporeal world, while souls and spirits together form a moral world and both of them together a transcendental world or the world in the most extensive sense.

Next time, I shall begin with Darjesian primary philosophy, which strangely isn't identical with ontology and wasn't included in Darjes's division of metaphysics.

Hoffmann: Study of reason, in which the marks of true and false are deduced from the laws of human understanding (1737)

It is regrettable that the most talented of Wolff's opponents, Adolph Friedrich Hoffmann, died (1741) before writing any further works, dedicated e.g. to metaphysics. As it is, we must take as his main work a book on logic, Vernunftlehre darinnen die Kennzeichen des Wahren und Falschen aus den Gesetzen des menschlichen Verstandes hergeleitet. Because the work represents the best and most systematic treatment of philosophy in the whole anti-Wolffian school, I shall take a more careful look at the various topics it treats over the next few texts.

As it has been noted by Beck in his seminal work on early German philosophy, Hoffmann appropriated much of the Wolffian tone in his works, trying to be even more systematical than the master himself. Indeed, reading Hoffman's logic, it appears at times like Hoffman is the more careful and ”geometric” thinker of the two, while Wolff seems in comparison like a bumbling empiricist disguising himself behind a semblance of deductions and definitions and making amateur logical mistakes.

It is not just Wolff's style of reasoning that has influenced Hoffmann, but also his division of topics. Thus, just like any other Wolffian, Hoffman begins by discussing philosophy in general. But before even that, he instructs the reader about the various parts relevant to academic discussion and particularly the various types of statements one will find in these discourses. Here, Hoffmann clearly tries to be more full and complete than Wolff, who satisfies himself with recounting the basic types of statements in supposedly mathematical treatises. Thus, Hoffmann begins by noting that some statements in academic writings depend on mere arbitrary choice – that is, they are stipulations assigning a contingent definition to some words or stating that a sign like x is meant to refer to an unknown number.

Statements in academic works that are not stipulations are then real statements, that is, statements meant to describe some facts not dependent on arbitrary choices. Most of these real statements are meant to be justified, but others cannot be, although they must still be accepted. Such statements Hoffmann calls postulates, thus distancing himself from Wolffian definition, in which postulate was taken as a statement describing some basic action possible to us (for instance, drawing a circle). Hoffman's postulates might be convenient idealisations, if not completely true, such as the idea that parallel lines will meet after an infinite distance. Then again, his postulates might also be apparently convincing generalisations that we cannot ever prove completely, such as the statement that all human beings desire happiness.

By allowing such postulates into an academic discourse Hoffmann appears to be distancing his stance from the Wolffian attitude that all statements of philosophy should be completely justified, either through experience or through demonstration. Indeed, Wolff does occasionally admit that some of his statements have been just likely hypotheses, but Hoffmann makes it a point to give the postulates an explicit place in his methodology. Furthermore, he notes that postulates cannot just be accepted willy-nilly, but one must still justify why such a postulate has been presumed,

The core of a learned discussion is still formed by statements that are taken as completely true. Some of these derive their justification from proofs, and these can then be divided into axioms, propositions etc. Here Hoffmann does not differ much from Wolff, although Hoffmann doesn't define axioms as self-evident principle, but as principles taken as granted in some discipline, although perhaps proven by another, higher discipline.

More interesting is Hoffmann's division of statements based on sensation (Empfindung), the second type of statements taken as completely true. Such statements include, quite expectedly, statements based on experience, which Hoffmann calls also immediate existential statements. Immediate existential statements might then be based on common experience, in which we immediately sense some objects and their connection : for instance, we might see in an experience that air can be compressed. On the other hand, the immediate existential statements might also be based on reflective experience, in which the objects are abstractions, but the connection is still something sensed or experienced, for instance, when we note that some avaricious persons are ambitious. In other words, reflective experience appears to be behind more generalised statements based on experience.

Interestingly, Hoffmann thinks that statements based on sensation include also what he calls immediate essential statements and which by their definition seem to be Kantian analytical judgements – for instance, ”expanded substance takes up more space than it used to” is immediately essential, because the predicate just explains what the subject says. The most radical suggestion here is that such analytical connections between concepts should be based on sensations. The idea appears to be that one can through an inner sensation view one's representations and instantly see that some of them are essentially connected to one another.

After introducing all the types of statements one will meet in a learned discussion, Hoffmann continues by defining the very notion of philosophy, just like Wolffians, but once again, Hoffmann's definition has some clear differences from Wolff's definition. What they both do have in common is the assumption that philosophy is a natural cognition, that is, different from the supernaturally justified theology. Hoffmann also agrees with Wolff that philosophy is not mere history or recounting – philosophy discovers truths that are not obvious on plain sight. At the same time he is willing to go further and discard even all mere descriptions of experiments from philosophy – in Wolffian tractates these were often included in the so-called experimental philosophy.

What are then the hidden truths Hoffmann wants philosophy to study? Firstly, they describe essence or nature of some things, since essences are usually not something that we could just plainly see. Furthermore, philosophy should also concern actually existing things, since some of them, say God and other souls, we never can sense. Indeed, Hoffmann goes even so far as to say that philosophy can never be about mere possibilities, which is a direct denial of Wolff's definition of philosophy as the science of possibilities.

There is still one element missing from Hoffmann's definition of philosophy, namely, restricting philosophy to eternal or unchanging truths – or at least to truths which cannot naturally stop being truths. One important group of topics removed from the field of philosophy is then everything that is based on free choice of human beings, such as specific arts giving techniques for actualising certain purposes. Even such arts are still based on philosophy, Hoffmann says, because the ultimate ends of all human actions are stable, that is, based either on essence of humanity or on God's immutable will.

As we have now seen various disciplines which are not philosophy, we should see what belongs to philosophy. Surprising is the inclusion of medicine in philosophy, but indeed, facts about human health might well be hidden and unchanging. Even mathematics is part of philosophy, since mathematical truths are not dependent on human choices. Still, Hoffmann wants to separate mathematics as a science of extensa, like space, from philosophy proper, which should instead study qualities.

The difference between mathematics and philosophy proper is not that first one deals with quantitative issues, since qualities might also be quantified, Hoffman says. Instead, just like Kant would later do, Hoffmann places the difference to the methodologies the two disciplines use – clear battle cry against Wolff's wish to apply mathematics to philosophy straightaway. Mathematical objects are such that we can abstract them easily from all their surroundings, while in case of qualities such abstraction is usually difficult, since qualities interact with other things much easier. Thus, in mathematics we may well take just an individual example of e.g. triangle and define through this example all triangles. In case of qualities, on the other hand, individual cases are so multifarious that it is almost impossible to make such generalisations. Indeed, while in case of mathematical objects one might easily use the Wolffian standard of generative definition to characterise e.g. circles, in case of qualities the genesis might affect the object to be defined. Then again, simplicity of mathematical objects often makes it futile to divided them into further types of objects, but qualities can be divided just because of their multiple characteristics and dealings with other students. All in all, Hoffmann argues that philosophy proper must often satisfy itself with mere probabilites, while mathematics must always use proper deductions.

If then move to Hoffman's division of philosophy proper, the basic classification depends on whether one wants to study things that are common to all possible worlds or things proper particularly to the actual world. The first class consists of things, Hoffman says, like God, space, time and spirits, which are then investigated by metaphysics, while things of second class, like gold and lions, are investigated by the so-called disciplinal philosophy. It is interesting that Hoffmann is able to characterise metaphysics, while in Wolffian tradition it was defined merely as a sum of certain philosophical disciplines.

Indeed, Hoffman's vision of metaphysics differs also substantially from Wolffian, since one of the central parts of metaphysics in Wolff's philosophy or cosmology is the major part of discplinal philosophy with Hoffmann. Furthermore, cosmology of Hoffmann differs from Wolffian cosmology, since Hoffmann's world is meant to explicitly contain both human souls and material objects in it. In addition to cosmology, disciplinal philosophy should contain study of nature, study of human understanding and study of human will. Of these, the study of human will is most developed by Hoffmann and is divided into a discipline called thelematology, which supposedly studies things dependent on nothing, but human will, such as laughter, and into moral philosophy, which should study things dependent on both human will and God. Moral philosophy Hoffmann then divided into prudence or study of means and various disciplines studying different moral principles, namely, natural theology, law of nature and ethics.

What really interests Hoffmann here is, of course, logic, or as he prefers to call it, the study of reason. Just like Wolff, Hoffmann appears to prefer beginning study of philosophy from logic. General need for logic arises from the need to know how to distinguish truth from falsehoods. Hoffmann doesn't apparently say that this would belong wholy to the province of logic, and in fact, distinguishes four different ways we come to regard something as true, only one of which he explicitly connects with logic. Firstly, we have immediate sensations of things, such as seeing that some tower is tall. Secondly, we sometimes notice that contradictory of something is impossible to think and conclude that this something must then be true. Both of these two methods Hoffmann takes to be fairly reliable.

The two other methods for ascertaining truth of something are then not so reliable. First of these resembles the second reliable method, but whereas in that case thinking the contradictory was impossible, in this case it should be just not something we can think easily or vividly enough. In such a case Hoffmann says we believe something, but cannot be as convinced of it as in the reliable case.

The second unreliable method then depends on truths cohering with one another in such a manner that knowing one truth can lead us to recognise the truth of another thing. It is this coherence of truths that is the peculiar topic of logic. In other words, Hoffmann explains, there must be some reason why human understanding can move from one truth to another. We may have some natural proneness for discovering these reasons, which then forms what is called natural logic. Just like Wolff, Hoffmann thinks it is the task of scientific or artificial logic to generalise and clarify these reasons into rules we could then use explicitly for recognising truths.

In a Wolffian fashion, Hoffmann then divides logic into a theoretical and pratical part, but in a novel fashion. Theoretical part, Hoffmann says, should discover the reasons why our understanding is able to know truths. First demand for this is to know the various capacities understanding has and then to move on to the effects of the use of these capacities – for these effects Hoffmann lends a Lockean term ”idea”, which appears roughly to correspond to what is called usually in tradition of German philosophy representation or Vorstellung. Ideas are then classified according to their various characteristics, and their various relations, such as subordination, opposition and general coherence, are considered. Notions of clarity and distinctness of ideas are also taken into account. The next topic consists then of combinations of ideas or concepts, propositions and proofs.

All of this sounds at least superficially Wolffian, but truly original is Hoffmann's inclusion of an account of truth to the theoretical part of logic, while wolffians had placed it into the practical side. Hoffmann's justification of this choice is quite believable – surely truth itself must also be a presupposition for knowing truths.

Practical part of logic attempts then to give rules, by which to improve the effects of understanding through various abstract rules. Understandably, the division of practical logic follows quite closely the division of theoretical logic. In addition, practical logic should at least contain chapters on e.g. disputation.

The preliminary outline of logic has then been set up. Next time, I'll begin with Hoffman's account of the various capacities of understanding.

Joachim Lange: Mental medicine (1708)

No, I haven't been reading any books on psychiatry lately. Medicina mentis was apparently a popular name for a philosophy book near 1700 – for instance, such a book was published by von Tschirnhaus, the missing link between Spinoza and Wolff. The title refers not so much to any mental illnesses in the modern sense, but to the task of improving one's mind and its abilities. In effect, we are threading on the same ground as with Wolff's book on logic.

The writer of this particular book on mental medicine was Johann Joachim Lange. Yes, you probably have not heard of him, but he is famous as one of the most vehement opponents of Christian Wolff, and we shall undoubtedly meet the fellow also in the future. Lange was a follower of pietism, a radical Christian movement that emphasised personal experience over institutionalised church – a protest against the stagnation of protestantism. Indeed, Lange's main occupation was theology and many of his works concern interpretation of Biblical texts, but Medicina mentis should be Lange's main philosophical work.

Regarding Lange's pietist background, it is no wonder that his view of philosophy differs radically from Wolffian view. For Wolff, as we have seen, philosophy practically equaled science and was characterised by a certain method, namely, deductive system based on evident axioms and reliable experiences. Lange, on the other hand, starts from the supposed goal of philosophy. Philosophy is love of or striving towards wisdom, and true wisdom, says Lange, lies in being itself, or as it can be said in Hebrew, Jehovah (”I am”). Thus, philosophy is for Lange all about finding God.

You won't have to read Lange to see that this idea of philosophy is in at odds with the Wolffian notion of philosophy, which is largely neutral as to the object of philosophy. It is thus no wonder that Lange explictly distances himself from the idea of philosophy as worldy wisdom (Weltweisheit) that was so important for Wolff: what is wisdom for the world is folly, when it comes to God. Lange even coins the term philomoria, love of foolishness, to describe this perverted or ”pseudo-ortohodox” brother of philosophy.

Lange even gives an account of the development of both philosophy and philomoria: the picture above is a summarised version of the latter. Nowadays histories of philosophy don't usually begin from antediluvian age, but Lange boldly starts from the creation itself. The tales of philosophy and philomoria begin with the sons of Adam. Philomoria was an invention of Cain and his offspring, who dabbled with such frivolities like music, while the third son of Adam, Seth, and his offspring meditated important matters. Yes, these still were the times when Bible passed as a reliable historical source.

I shall spare my reader Lange's further summarisation of Bible, which quickly becomes rather repetetive. Suffice to say that Lange thinks Bible to be the source of all important knowledge. All the mythologies of Greek and other people are, of course, mere incomplete recollections of the true biblical history, while all that is good in the thoughts of Greek and later philosophers is of biblical origin. Pythagoras and Plato evidently learned all that they knew from Jews: a suggestion, which goes all the way to Philo, the first famous Jewish philosopher, and which always reminds me of a devoted Hare Krishna who tried to sell me his religion by telling that Plato learned his wisdom in India.

Despite the biblical origins of Greek and later philosophy, Lange has little good to say of any particular philosopher. Especially Lange attempts to discredit Aristotle, who in logical works introduced scholastic erudition to philosophy, who in his theoretical philosophy suggested that all events are caused by the movement of the celestial spheres and whose practical philosophy is hedonism fit for Macedonian court. The only philosophers who come clean in Lange's scheme are virtuous Socrates and Descartes, who purged philosophy from scholasticism.

It would be really easy to ridicule Lange, but this would go against the primary purpose of my blog – my aim is to understand past philosophers and their theories, not make fun of them. Indeed, Lange is not just an isolated figure in the arena of German philosophy, but an instance of an antirationalist, anti-enlightenment movement that later surfaces in such fellows as Hamann and Jacobi, who were as fierce Christians as Lange and who opposed Kant and the later German idealists, but who also influenced them in some measure.

Indeed, German idealism might be characterised as a combination of the two streams of Enlightenment, the German version of which begun with Wolffe, and antirationalism opposing Enlightenment. This characterisation is illustrated by Hegel's tale of the battle between Enlightenment and faith in his Phenomenology of spirit. Enlightenment, says Hegel, is characterised by being ”a form” or a method of investigation. Furthermore, it is a method open for everyone and thus what the modern world is after. In fact, Wolffian ideal of philosophy characterised through a method of axiomatic-deductive-empiricist science fits just this description.

But as a mere ”form” Enlightenment lacks its proper content or purpose the method is used for. Instead, the method of Enlightenment or science can be applied to any, even the most superficial issue: good example is Wolff making complex deductions of the question how one can change dates between Julian, Gregorian, Hebrew, Arabic and Bablylonian calendars. Faith, on the other hand, has just this content, that is, it strives for the highest fulfilment possible, which Lange and other antirationalists called God and which we might describe in a more secular manner as the meaning of life. But faith lacks the necessary form, that is, it merely proclaims where the fulfilment is to be found without providing the tools by which a person could by herself discover it.

Combining these two strands was what Hegel thought philosophy should do, that is, philosophy should give everyone a chance to discover what makes life meaningful: it is thus highly valuable and still publically teachable enterprise. But right now we are still far from seeing how Hegel manages to do this. Instead, next time I shall be looking at more closely how Lange describes the actual methodology of philosophy – and we shall see that his antirationalist ideology has strikingly rationalist roots.

Christian Wolff: Reasonable thoughts on the capacities of the human understanding and their correct use in knowing truth (1712)

I have already mentioned how Christian Wolff had discovered how to make profit in academia by writing text books. Wolff had also apparently invented how to make a succesful brand of his creations, a long time before the notion of brand had been formulated. And indeed, if one nowadays knows that most of the hard cash paid for a Harry Potter -book goes to the pockets of J. K. Rowling, the 18th century Germans knew that a book with a title beginning with the words ”Vernünftige Gedancken von...” would be the handiwork of the philosophical Jack-of-all-trades Christian Wolff, no matter what the issue investigated was. Unfortunately Wolff did not have the chance to sell the filming rights to his series.

I have translated ”Vernünftige Gedancken” as reasonable thoughts, but one could also speak of reasoned thoughts, because what supposedly makes Wolff's thoughts so reasonable or makes them accord with reason is that these thoughts are presented in the already familiar axiomatic form of reasoning from evident basic truths and definitions to further truths. Thus, it is just logical that Wolff would present this form and in general the methodology of philosophy in the first published work of the series, Vernünftige Gedancken von den Kräfften des menschlichen Verstandes und ihrem richtigen Gebrauche in Erkäntniss der Wahrheit.

From modern perspective it probably appears rather strange that Wolff would actually call a book on methodology logical. This perplexity is instigated by the Kantian tradition where logic is seen as a mere canon for rejecting the obviously impossible statements. But before this Kantian novelty, logic had been usually described as the organon of or a tool for a philosophical or scientific investigation, and indeed, one of Aristotle's logical works, the Posterior analytics, was similarly a study of the scientific method.

I shall investigate the Wolffian methodology in more detail in later texts. Now I am interested in the moment of philosophical self-reflection at the beginning of the book, where Wolff defines what philosophy is and then divides it into different disciplines. More precisely, Wolff does not speak of philosophy, but uses his own invention, Weltweisheit, that is, worldy and not divine wisdom.I shall reverse Wolff's own schema and start from the individual parts of philosophy and thwn progress towards the definition of the whole philosophy.

Philosophers have been very keen to classify different philosophical disciplines in a rigorous manner. Perhaps the most influential has been the Stoic division of philosophy into logic, physics and ethics: similarly Descartes compared logic and metaphysics with the roots of a tree, physics with its trunk and ethics as one of its fruits, while Hegelian classification of philosophy into logic, philosophy of nature and philosophy of spirit clearly resembles its Stoic predecessor.

Compared with this classical division, Wolff's classification appears rather haphazard. Wolff begins with the discipline he is studying in the current book, that is, logic or ”the art of reason”. Wolff clearly means it to be the first part of philosophy, because one must first learn the method before using it. The second part of philosophy considers then the supposed ultimate explanation of all other things or creatures, namely God, who is investigated in natural theology or study of God.

The third part, which considers the creatures or things other than God, Wolff leaves unnamed, but divides it further into pneumatology or study of spirits and physics or study of nature. Fourthly, Wolff notes that in addition to reason or understanding, human soul has also the faculty of will, which is an issue of yet another unnamed discipline that contains such subdisciplines as the natural right, ethics and politics. Finally, Wolff notes that we must also have a discipline investigating the common characteristics of all things, that is, ontology or fundamental science.

Wolff's sixfold division seems a failure from a systematising viewpoint, because it is not obvious why philosophy is to be divided into these particular subdisciplines. Especially unsatisfactory is that some of Wolff's suggested disciplines have no name, but consist of even further subdisciplines. The unclarity is even furthered by Wolff's remark that the natural theology, study of creatures and ontology together form yet another discipline called metaphysics. One might think that Wolff should have divided philosophy just into three parts – logic, metaphysics and the nameless discipline considering human will – or then raise ethics, politics and other subdisciplines of the philosophy of will into the status of independent disciplines.

Somewhat more intruiging is then Wolff's definition of what philosophy in general is: it is a science of all the possible things, considering how and why they are possible. The mention of possibilities is particularly interesting. Indeed, philosophers have always had a knack for discovering hitherto unimagined possibilities. This knack is extremely evident in the habit of using thought experiments as crucial links in arguments. This is a procedure common especially in modern analytic philosophy – witness for instance Gettier's problems of epistemology or the Twin Earth thought experiment.

Yet, this knack or art of finding possibilities is probably a quite recent candidate in the competition for the essence of philosophising. Wolff himself speaks of philosophy as a science instead of a mere art. By science Wolff means a capacity to deduce things from incontrovertible grounds, and he explicitly states that scientific knowledge is more certain than mere art where particular examples might be confused with general rules. In effect, Wolff is still committed to the old idea of philosophy as an axiomatic system.

What is then the distinguishing characteristic of a science of possibilities, and even more importantly, from what other sciences philosophy is to be differentiated from? There surely cannot be any separate science of impossibilities, or more precisely, it would be identical with the science of possibilities: as Aristotle already said, one and the same science deals with opposite concepts, because in order to know what is e.g. impossible and what is not, you must also know what is possible and what is not.

I suppose that the proper point of comparison for philosophy as a science of possibilities would be a science of actualities, that is, a system based on incontrovertible grounds that would tell what there is and why there are such things. Now, it seems evident, and Wolff would probably agree, that such a science of actualities is beyond human capacities. Humans can usually at most observe what is actual, that is, when it comes to actualities, they are capable only of history in the original sense of the word. From human perspective, then, philosophy just equals science.

One last question then is how a philosopher should go about proving that something is possible. The answer is already familiar from the study of what real definitions mean for Wolff. We know when something is possible, according to Wolff, when we know how this thing is generated and especially when we can ourselves generate such a thing. In effect, science at its best becomes almost like technology or handicraft.

Thus, if reason is defined as an insight into the relations between truths, the possibility of reason is shown when we demonstrate how a person can have such an insight through his or her own capacities. This is the task of the rest of Wolff's book, and we shall see how well he handles it in later blog texts.