From the general method of all research, Crusius moves on to the specific method of history. He thinks it evident that proofs in history can only use the method of probability: the links between the things in the world are so multifarious that we cannot discover the events from causes or causes from events through demonstration, and even where we could find the causes of some effects according to their essence, we could not find all circumstances of their existence. Furthermore, Crusius adds, the events of history are usually determined by the choices of free persons, while the method of demonstration can investigate only deterministic causes. Thus, he finds enough reasons to define a special historical probability, by which he means probability that helps us to distinguish justified accounts of the past from fabrications. Crusius believes that in innumerable examples of human life we have occasions of historical probability and that it often even changes into moral certainty. This means, he concludes, that we should be able to find ways to justify historical probability.
Crusius suggests several ultimate grounds of historical probability, starting with the assumption that especially fabrications, untruths and affectations reveal themselves quite easily, since it is not easy to create internally consistent stories, because fictional tales often clearly conflict with the known events of the real world and because our natural desire for truth makes it not easy for us to be fooled by deceptions. Indeed, he suggests that because of this natural desire for truth, people find credulity and deception shameful things and are therefore usually inclined to tell only such stories that they have judged to be true due to believable justifications. Thus, Crusius concludes, we should not presume that a historical account is groundless, as long as we know no particular causes that would weaken or even expressly refute the general presumption.
Of course, Crusius adds, this presumption has different degrees, depending on who is giving the account, and is especially strong in regard to public records. He notes that each person usually acts according to their status, for instance, a person who has been deceitful before is not to be trusted. Furthermore, Crusius continues, the easier it is to believe something to be possible or the more internal probability something has, the stronger is its trustworthiness. Here the particular method of historical probability points back to the general theory of probabilities: probability increases greatly, the more we have justifications and the more harmonious they are with one another. Even mere cognitive justifications might be enough for moral certainty, but links to purposes and obligations increases its strength, but no method of probability can be used further than its own justification allows, that is, when it is not weakened or even expressly refuted by opposed inferences.
Crusius notes that there are two things to evaluate with the historical justifications: firstly, the materials used as data for historical proofs, and secondly, their relation toward the suggested historical truth, the signs and grounds of which they should be. He points out that historical data can be of many types: not just history books and records, testimonies and accounts, but also memorials, coins, pictures, inscriptions, artifacts and even internal characteristics of the suggested events, that is, whether they are in themselves probable. Crusius states that first is to be investigated how certain the data are, sometimes through immediate sensations, sometimes through demonstrative grounds, but mostly through other probabilities.
Crusius reminds the reader that although we would have answered the question of the certainty of the data, we still wouldn’t have decided what the data can prove. This power of proof lies partly, he continues, in the existence and characteristic of testimonials of witnesses and in the characteristic of the things witnesses have told. Starting from the latter, Crusius explains that we should observe the possibility and the probability of things even before looking at the testimonials. Thus, he argues, we should consider the degree of possibility of the described event: for instance, are there many examples of similar things and are there clear causes that could have caused the thing at the context of that time. Furthermore, Crusius thinks, we should observe whether the suggested event has internal probability: whether it agrees with known physical and cultural circumstances or whether it contradicts them, whether the existence of such things is probable from general reasons etc. He also encourages to find any physical evidence corroborating what is told.
In addition to such internal characteristics of events, Crusius recognises testimonials as the other main source of historical proofs, whether they be testimonials of the experiences of the witnesses themselves or of someone else. He notes that we should observe whether the witness could have given a true testimonial. If they are speaking of something they have themselves supposedly experienced, do they have the required powers of sensation and attention, how much they could have actually sensed, what kind of obstacles their sensations might have had and how much time and attention the thing has required? On the other hand, Crusius adds, if we are speaking of something not directly experienced, but only inferred from something supposedly experienced by the witness (e.g. whether someone was angry), we must observe whether the witness has enough power of reasoning to do such inferences. Finally, he concludes, if the witness hasn’t personally encountered the thing they tell, the probability of their testimonials depends on the methods they have used to ascertin the truth of these tales and their capacities to use these methods.
Furthermore, Crusius continues, we should observe whether witnesses have wanted to tell the truth, that is, we should observe if for some reason it is easy to assume that they do not speak truth or whether some particular circumstances of the witnesses, such as their character, prevent this assumption. He also suggests considering whether witnesses could have deceived us, and if so, whether the deceptions have been done purposefully or due to witnesses themselves being deceived by others.
An important topic of investigation, according to Crusius, is whether testimonials agree with other testimonials – for instance, whether what the witness says here agrees with what they say elsewhere and with what other writers and historical records suggest. Even if a testimonial appears to be in contradiction with other testimonials, this seeming contradiction might be solved in other ways. If a testimonial cannot, for some reason, be compared with others, the events might still be remarkably probable for other reasons.
Crucius suggests some further rules to help in assessing historical probability of an account. Firstly, he notes, events that happen seldom or are in conflict with the natural characteristics of the causes in the world are internally improbable, thus, they require stronger historical justifications in order to become credible. Furthermore, Crusius points out, all justifications of historical probability can confirm each other reciprocally, that is, earlier events can confirm their consequences and consequences can confirm past events that caused them – we just have to know which of the two are more reliable and use them to justify the others. He also suggests that at least when dealing with events that could have been experiences, memorials of famous people provide stronger evidence for them than memorials of unknown people, while physical evidence, like coins, are generally more credible evidence than memorials.
Every testimonial has, Crusius reminds us, historical credibility, due to the presumption that people mostly speak truth, but this natural credibility can be weakened or even completely refuted by the circumstances or it can also be strengthened. Thus, historians should try to have as much information about the historical context, in order to better evaluate individual testimonies. Usually, Crusius notes, having several witnesses saying the same thing makes the account more credible, but if all the witnesses have heard the tale from the same source, their combined credibility is as great as the credibility of this source – unless, he adds, the witnesses have had more evidence, on which to base their belief in the original source. In any case, Crusius concludes, the character of the witnesses can weigh even more than their numbers.
Sometimes the credibility of testimonials is low, Crusius thinks. If a witness has not immediately experienced something, but merely makes a judgement that things have happened so and we cannot say what their judgement is based on, their testimony is as good as nothing. Also, if it seems quite possible that a witness could have erred or is speaking partially, they are to be deemed unreliable. Then again, Crusius states, if the witness gives an unforced account of a remarkably long, but still coherent series of events, this suggests that the tale is credible. Further indications of credibility, he suggests, are modest acknowledgements the witness makes of their own ignorance and sudden revelations of things the witness should have been quiet about (although the latter can also be, Crucius admits, a sign of a naive or a rash person).
Crusius warns that we should not confuse credibility of a single event and credibility of a historian in general. The latter can give credence to the former, but it is not the only possible justification for an event; besides, before becoming a credible historian, a person has usually established credibility of many historical events. Crusius also reminds the reader that they should distinguish between immediate and mediate witnesses. Immediate witnesses have themselves experienced something and then the question is, whether their experience has been complete enough and whether they have reported it faithfully. A mediate witness, on the other hand, has relied on the accounts of others, public records and other sources, and then the question is more about the credibility of these primary sources and about the ability of the mediate witness to use them without making things up on their own. Usually, Crusius thinks, immediate witnesses are to be preferred over mediate witnesses, although sometimes the immediate witnesses might not have had the opportunity to observe the event from all angles (for instance, a single soldier might understand less about the ongoings of a war than a researcher who has studied its course for a long time). Similarly, he points out, historians living closer to the time of an event are usually more reliable than later historians, but geographical distance, lack of understanding of the context (e.g. when a person of an upper class writes of the ongoings of the lower class) or partiality can weigh the balance on the side of the later historian.
Crusius thinks that historians relying on proofs lose their credibility, if we observe them using unwarranted sources or contradicting themselves. Then again, he states, mere unfortunate speculations about reasons of events do not destroy their credibility, if they just clearly distinguish these speculations from established historical events. If we are reading a work of an unreliable historian, Crusius continues, we should believe only such things, which seem in itself possible or probable or which are confirmed by other witnesses or justifications. He is also of the opinion that a single unfounded treatise should not make us suspect the historian in general, just like a single error should not make us suspect the whole treatise.
Crusius warns not to take a lack of mention of an event by historians as evidence of the event not happening. If we want to do so, he explains, we should show that there are no understandable reasons for their silence, such as a fear of state officials or religious beliefs, or we should show that being silent on a major event would contradict the character of the writers. Then again, much stronger evidence against the truth of some event than mere absence of mention, Crusius thinks, is provided by an account of a historian explicitly contradicting the supposed historical event.
This leads us to the question what to do, when historians give conflicting accounts. Crusius suggests that in these cases we must observe the individual circumstances of the writers: for instance, whether they count the time differently or whether they speak only of similar events. Sometimes nothing more is needed than clearer definitions of words, he assures the reader. Whatever we suggest for explaining the seeming conflict, Crusius underlines, we have to consider whether we want to show that the suggestion is true – then we need to prove it – or whether we just try to justify the credibility of the historians – then it is enough that our suggestion is a real possibility. Crusius concludes by insisting that a conflict of historians requiring explanation does not necessarily weaken the credibility of their accounts and a good explanation might even strengthen their credibility.
Crusius concludes the chapter with the question whether the length of time that has passed from the event takes away from its credibility. His answer is essentially negative: the existence of triumvirate in Rome is as believable now as it was during the age of Charlemagne. True, he admits, we might have less justifications to believe an event to be true, especially if we find new evidence to refute earlier accounts. Then again, the credibility might, on the contrary, also increase through new evidence, he notes, so that what was earlier just a widely spread rumor, might in the new circumstances become credible history.
maanantai 13. heinäkuuta 2026
keskiviikko 8. heinäkuuta 2026
Crusius, Christian August: Road to certainty and reliability – Research and teaching
Like the logic textbooks of the time often did, the final few chapters of the work of Crusius treat the question how to apply everything previously said to the practices of scholarly work. Crusius speaks more precisely of meditation, by which he means a process of extending our knowledge further from some fundamental thoughts. In addition, he considers also the related problematic of how to transmit the internal meditation to others in a scholarly treatise, which requires accommodating the results of meditation to their needs. Crusius also ponders the practices of disputation, but has not that much new and interesting to say about the topic, so we’ll ignore it.
Quite traditionally, Crusius distinguishes two different types of meditation: analysis, where we try to make our knowledge of the fundamental thoughts more distinct, complete and certain, and synthesis, where we progress from fundamental thoughts to other truths that are not its part nor grounds, but are merely inferred from it. He notes that both actual meditation and scholarly treatises use both methods and that sometimes even individual pages in treatises can have many occasions of both methods.
In the synthetical method, Crusius thinks, the fundamental thoughts studied must always be concepts, but the analytical method can also have as its object words, the meaning of which is sought out. Thus, he argues, the analytical method is divided into analysis of things or concepts and analysis of words or terms. Starting with the analysis of concepts, Crusius divides it again into analysis of parts, which sets out distinctly all the parts and internal determinations of the fundamental thoughts, and analysis of reasons, which looks for proofs for the fundamental thoughts and evaluates proofs suggested by others. The difference of the latter from the synthetical method, he explains, is that we are usually convinced of the proof of the fundamental thoughts and we just want to make this conviction more secure.
Crusius divides the analysis of parts again into merely resolving analysis, which sets apart distinctly just what is already in the fundamental thought, and determining analysis, which adds further determinations to what is still indeterminate in the fundamental thought. He calls the latter also mixed analysis, because it often has to use also the synthetical method, although for an analytical purpose. This determining or mixed analysis, Crusius explains, adds either determinations that belong to the object all the time and thus are part of its essence or determinations that belong to the object disjunctively through divisions.
Crusius notes that the methods of analysis of parts and analysis of reasons can also be combined. This combined method is especially used, he explains, with problems, where we start from given data and progress to the grounds, on which the data depends, and generate from the characteristic or quantity of the grounds the required characteristic or quantity. In this method, Crucius points out, the first move toward grounds is analysis of reasons, while using the grounds to make the previously unknown determination distinct is determining analysis. He points out that this method is especially used in mathematics, under the name of algebraic method, when we are asked for a magnitude of something and we determine it through other magnitudes, on which the first one depends.
Analysis of words or texts Crusius divides into three types. Firstly, it may be about interpreting a text, it may be about outlining the order or disposition of the text or it may be about evaluating the worth of the text. The interpretation is something Crusius will return to in the final chapter of the book, so he in this point merely divides disposition of text into natural disposition, which follows the goal of the author, and artificial disposition, which follows any convenient general concept, and divides evaluation of the text into evaluation of the writing style and into evaluation of the thoughts in it.
Crusius lists three kinds of synthetical method, which he names after the sciences prominently using them. First of them is the geometric or mathematical method, which takes as its starting point the concept of a possible essence. The second, then, is the physical or experimental method, which starts from propositions involving physical existence. The final one is the moral method, which begins with propositions involving moral existence. Crusius notes that the physical and the moral method together can be called the philosophical method.
Crusius goes through the different types of synthetical method in more detail, starting with the mathematical or geometrical method, where the possible essence it begins with is such that the existence of which is not yet posited or at least not yet considered. This method then proceeds to find out more about the relations and consequences of the essence and discusses problems following from these. Crusius notes that the specialty of the geometrical method is that it does not prove its definitions, but just postulates them as possible. Thus, he argues, propositions shown by it have only a hypothetical reality, which is enough for pure mathematics. Then again, Crusius points out, the geometrical method is used elsewhere, for instance, in studying the relations of possible essences.
The physical method, Crusius continues, starts from experiences or real propositions deduced from experiences – he notes that all existences must in the end be justified from experiences. The method then proceeds to other propositions involving physical existence or real possibilities. In other words, Crusius explains, the physical method moves from effects and properties of things, known by experience, to their causes, further effects and relations. The method is used, naturally, in physics and also in medicine, which Crusius takes to be a special subspecies of physics. He notes that this method is used also elsewhere, for instance, in revealed theology, where the Bible takes the place of experiences.
Moral method, finally, proceeds from fundamental thoughts to the purposes of things or from posited purposes to other purposes, whether these purposes concern human happiness or moral laws. In case of moral laws, Crusius thinks that we know them sometimes through sensation – when we are speaking of written or announced laws – and if we are speaking of natural laws, we can know them by deducing from experience, although he warns the reader not to confuse inferences from what makes us happy for a proof of moral law. Crusius also points out that studies of moral existence or possibility should not be confused with studies of efficient causes and means that make certain conditions of mind possible or actual, because the latter demand the physical method. Then again, he adds, most moral topics also require these physical investigations.
Crusius states that the synthetical method cannot be applied before the fundamental thoughts are distinct and known to be real or at least possible, which presupposes that we know definitions, experiences and other propositions. Definitions in particular, he says, should at least be resolved into axioms, and if this is not enough, determining analysis is required. Thus, Crusius argues, both analysis and synthesis are required in meditation, but synthesis presupposes analysis. Furthermore, he continues, each thing must be studied according to its nature. For instance, existence must be studied analytically and especially through determining analysis or synthetically with physical or moral method or often by both means, while study of essence requires mathematical method or analysis.
Crusius also gives some general guidelines on how to go about in meditation of things. A central concept here is the theme of meditation, by which he means its main or objective purpose. The theme is either simple – a concept, a proposition or a problem – or composed of many simple themes. If the theme is something arbitrarily made by humans, Crusius says, we should check whether it is useful to investigate it. With naturally generated things this check is not required, he thinks, because knowledge of such things enriches the sciences and influences many truths.
In order that meditation will be useful, Crusius explains, we should already have some capacities for meditation, which requires a diligent and thorough study of logic. In addition, he notes, meditation requires materials, which are supplied by preliminary knowledge that helps to form concrete ideas, both on the general structure of all sciences and particularly on sciences close to the theme investigated. Crusius also instructs the reader to learn about history, because historical knowledge can provide experiences and understanding on causes of many possibilities.
After gathering this preliminary knowledge, Crusius explains, the meditation starts by directing attention to the fundamental thoughts and trying to think them lively and ever more perfectly. This means, he adds, reflecting on and analysing examples that fit the concrete ideas, together with the opposites of these examples and the predicates that are ascribed to the examples through the concrete ideas. In addition, we should recollect what we have heard and read about the topic and perhaps collect more experiences about it. When all of this is done, Crusius suggests, we should draw an outline of the meditation to guide our imagination, by determining the main points in the theme, to which meditation should be directed.
Once we have fixed the purpose of meditation, Crusius insists, we should make a special theme about the requirements of the method. This means, firstly, he explains, planning a good order for the meditation or the treatise made through it. The general rule, Crusius says, is to start with that without which the following cannot be understood, at least not as conveniently. This does not mean, he clarifies, that nature would determine the place for each thought so precisely that they could not change their places, because there’s much arbitrary in the order of meditation and scholarly treatises.
Something peculiar to treatises, in opposition to meditation, Crusius suggests, is that although in meditation scholars should be ready to reduce everything to first grounds of all sciences, it would be too difficult to do that for every proposition and often superfluous in the eyes of the reader. Still, he adds, we should not assume as familiar what is doubtful and we should try to find justifications even for familiar truths, especially if this is a key to finding desired truths, or to shying away from difficulties.
Crusius suggests that the working of themes is easier, when their main points are classified and ordered under a few titles – he calls this classification by the Aristotelian term topics. I shall skip this part of the chapter, because it consists mostly of titles of the treatise to be made.
Quite traditionally, Crusius distinguishes two different types of meditation: analysis, where we try to make our knowledge of the fundamental thoughts more distinct, complete and certain, and synthesis, where we progress from fundamental thoughts to other truths that are not its part nor grounds, but are merely inferred from it. He notes that both actual meditation and scholarly treatises use both methods and that sometimes even individual pages in treatises can have many occasions of both methods.
In the synthetical method, Crusius thinks, the fundamental thoughts studied must always be concepts, but the analytical method can also have as its object words, the meaning of which is sought out. Thus, he argues, the analytical method is divided into analysis of things or concepts and analysis of words or terms. Starting with the analysis of concepts, Crusius divides it again into analysis of parts, which sets out distinctly all the parts and internal determinations of the fundamental thoughts, and analysis of reasons, which looks for proofs for the fundamental thoughts and evaluates proofs suggested by others. The difference of the latter from the synthetical method, he explains, is that we are usually convinced of the proof of the fundamental thoughts and we just want to make this conviction more secure.
Crusius divides the analysis of parts again into merely resolving analysis, which sets apart distinctly just what is already in the fundamental thought, and determining analysis, which adds further determinations to what is still indeterminate in the fundamental thought. He calls the latter also mixed analysis, because it often has to use also the synthetical method, although for an analytical purpose. This determining or mixed analysis, Crusius explains, adds either determinations that belong to the object all the time and thus are part of its essence or determinations that belong to the object disjunctively through divisions.
Crusius notes that the methods of analysis of parts and analysis of reasons can also be combined. This combined method is especially used, he explains, with problems, where we start from given data and progress to the grounds, on which the data depends, and generate from the characteristic or quantity of the grounds the required characteristic or quantity. In this method, Crucius points out, the first move toward grounds is analysis of reasons, while using the grounds to make the previously unknown determination distinct is determining analysis. He points out that this method is especially used in mathematics, under the name of algebraic method, when we are asked for a magnitude of something and we determine it through other magnitudes, on which the first one depends.
Analysis of words or texts Crusius divides into three types. Firstly, it may be about interpreting a text, it may be about outlining the order or disposition of the text or it may be about evaluating the worth of the text. The interpretation is something Crusius will return to in the final chapter of the book, so he in this point merely divides disposition of text into natural disposition, which follows the goal of the author, and artificial disposition, which follows any convenient general concept, and divides evaluation of the text into evaluation of the writing style and into evaluation of the thoughts in it.
Crusius lists three kinds of synthetical method, which he names after the sciences prominently using them. First of them is the geometric or mathematical method, which takes as its starting point the concept of a possible essence. The second, then, is the physical or experimental method, which starts from propositions involving physical existence. The final one is the moral method, which begins with propositions involving moral existence. Crusius notes that the physical and the moral method together can be called the philosophical method.
Crusius goes through the different types of synthetical method in more detail, starting with the mathematical or geometrical method, where the possible essence it begins with is such that the existence of which is not yet posited or at least not yet considered. This method then proceeds to find out more about the relations and consequences of the essence and discusses problems following from these. Crusius notes that the specialty of the geometrical method is that it does not prove its definitions, but just postulates them as possible. Thus, he argues, propositions shown by it have only a hypothetical reality, which is enough for pure mathematics. Then again, Crusius points out, the geometrical method is used elsewhere, for instance, in studying the relations of possible essences.
The physical method, Crusius continues, starts from experiences or real propositions deduced from experiences – he notes that all existences must in the end be justified from experiences. The method then proceeds to other propositions involving physical existence or real possibilities. In other words, Crusius explains, the physical method moves from effects and properties of things, known by experience, to their causes, further effects and relations. The method is used, naturally, in physics and also in medicine, which Crusius takes to be a special subspecies of physics. He notes that this method is used also elsewhere, for instance, in revealed theology, where the Bible takes the place of experiences.
Moral method, finally, proceeds from fundamental thoughts to the purposes of things or from posited purposes to other purposes, whether these purposes concern human happiness or moral laws. In case of moral laws, Crusius thinks that we know them sometimes through sensation – when we are speaking of written or announced laws – and if we are speaking of natural laws, we can know them by deducing from experience, although he warns the reader not to confuse inferences from what makes us happy for a proof of moral law. Crusius also points out that studies of moral existence or possibility should not be confused with studies of efficient causes and means that make certain conditions of mind possible or actual, because the latter demand the physical method. Then again, he adds, most moral topics also require these physical investigations.
Crusius states that the synthetical method cannot be applied before the fundamental thoughts are distinct and known to be real or at least possible, which presupposes that we know definitions, experiences and other propositions. Definitions in particular, he says, should at least be resolved into axioms, and if this is not enough, determining analysis is required. Thus, Crusius argues, both analysis and synthesis are required in meditation, but synthesis presupposes analysis. Furthermore, he continues, each thing must be studied according to its nature. For instance, existence must be studied analytically and especially through determining analysis or synthetically with physical or moral method or often by both means, while study of essence requires mathematical method or analysis.
Crusius also gives some general guidelines on how to go about in meditation of things. A central concept here is the theme of meditation, by which he means its main or objective purpose. The theme is either simple – a concept, a proposition or a problem – or composed of many simple themes. If the theme is something arbitrarily made by humans, Crusius says, we should check whether it is useful to investigate it. With naturally generated things this check is not required, he thinks, because knowledge of such things enriches the sciences and influences many truths.
In order that meditation will be useful, Crusius explains, we should already have some capacities for meditation, which requires a diligent and thorough study of logic. In addition, he notes, meditation requires materials, which are supplied by preliminary knowledge that helps to form concrete ideas, both on the general structure of all sciences and particularly on sciences close to the theme investigated. Crusius also instructs the reader to learn about history, because historical knowledge can provide experiences and understanding on causes of many possibilities.
After gathering this preliminary knowledge, Crusius explains, the meditation starts by directing attention to the fundamental thoughts and trying to think them lively and ever more perfectly. This means, he adds, reflecting on and analysing examples that fit the concrete ideas, together with the opposites of these examples and the predicates that are ascribed to the examples through the concrete ideas. In addition, we should recollect what we have heard and read about the topic and perhaps collect more experiences about it. When all of this is done, Crusius suggests, we should draw an outline of the meditation to guide our imagination, by determining the main points in the theme, to which meditation should be directed.
Once we have fixed the purpose of meditation, Crusius insists, we should make a special theme about the requirements of the method. This means, firstly, he explains, planning a good order for the meditation or the treatise made through it. The general rule, Crusius says, is to start with that without which the following cannot be understood, at least not as conveniently. This does not mean, he clarifies, that nature would determine the place for each thought so precisely that they could not change their places, because there’s much arbitrary in the order of meditation and scholarly treatises.
Something peculiar to treatises, in opposition to meditation, Crusius suggests, is that although in meditation scholars should be ready to reduce everything to first grounds of all sciences, it would be too difficult to do that for every proposition and often superfluous in the eyes of the reader. Still, he adds, we should not assume as familiar what is doubtful and we should try to find justifications even for familiar truths, especially if this is a key to finding desired truths, or to shying away from difficulties.
Crusius suggests that the working of themes is easier, when their main points are classified and ordered under a few titles – he calls this classification by the Aristotelian term topics. I shall skip this part of the chapter, because it consists mostly of titles of the treatise to be made.
perjantai 26. kesäkuuta 2026
Crusius, Christian August: Road to certainty and reliability – Proving
After propositions, Crusius naturally progresses in his applied logic to proving, where a proposition (the conclusion) is held to be true because of its relation to other propositions assumed to be true (the premisses). This relation, he explains, is formed by a chain of deductions, and while the premisses could be called the matter of the proof, the deductive chains are similarly its form. Crusius points out that there is a clear hierarchy what can be proven from different kinds of propositions: thus, a nominal proposition about mere words cannot be used to derive ideal conclusions about possibilities, let alone real conclusions about the existence of things, while ideal propositions cannot be used to back up real conclusions. He also notes that proofs can have different purposes: sometimes we just want to see what follows from assuming some premisses as true – this could be called a hypothetical proof – while at other times we truly want to establish the truth of the conclusion – this is then an absolute proof.
Crusius goes through several ways to classify proofs, starting with whether the proofs use only the proposition of contradiction or whether they rely also on the two other fundamental propositions. Furthermore, he adds, proofs can be divided according to whether the method used is the demonstration or the method of probability. The first kind – demonstrative proofs – can then be combined with the classification of the first sentence, so that we gain the concepts of geometrical demonstration, which uses only the highest fundamental proposition, and disciplinary demonstration, which takes advantage also of the two other fundamental propositions.
Crusius also divides proofs in a priori, a posteriori and mixed proofs. Of these, he explains, a priori proof establishes not just that the conclusion is true, but also why it is true. A priori proof can also be what Crusius calls a hypothetical a priori proof, which tries to develop a conclusion implicitly contained in some premisses, or an absolute a priori proof, where the conclusion is intrinsically connected, but not implicitly connected with the premisses. The names of these subtypes is explained by hypothetical a priori proof being also hypothetical in the sense of merely explicating the premisses, while the absolute proof should establish truths through the mere fundamental propositions and axioms immediately dependent on them, such as those involving causal powers of things.
A posteriori proof, then, means for Crusius a proof which establishes only the truth of the conclusion without explaining it. As is to be expected, he includes all proofs dependent on experience in this class, but somewhat surprisingly also the so-called proofs ad absurdum, where a conclusion is derived by showing that the supposition of its falsity leads to absurd conclusions (of course, the latter do not explain why something is the case).
Crusius includes also a third kind of or mixed proof, which should be in some sense a priori and in another a posteriori. His paradigmatic example of such a proof is those found in geometry, where objects according to some defined concepts are postulated to exist and then the existence or characteristic of some objects is established. Such proofs are first and foremost a posteriori, since they do not really explain the conclusion – that’s why Crusius calls them mixed a posteriori proofs – but the method is still a priori in the sense that the justifying ground of the proof is comprehended from the mere idea of the proposition to be proved.
All proofs should prove the truth of their conclusions, Crusius says, but not all of them establish the necessity of the conclusion. A priori proofs, he states, always do this, but the degree of necessity depends on the necessity of their grounds: thus, Crusius notes, if we want to prove the existence of something absolutely necessary, it must be proven a priori from the properties of God. When it comes to other kinds of proof, he states, deductions ad absurdum and mixed proofs prove the necessity of their conclusions, while proofs from experiences prove only the truth of their conclusions.
Observing the purpose of proofs, Crusius notes that they either prove something from the standpoint of truth and try to establish some conclusion as true, or then they prove from the standpoint of humans, that is, indicate what a person must admit, if they accept something as true. Another point of division concerns the question whether the proof uses only the tools of understanding or whether it aims to justify some course of action and is thus dependent also on moral issues.
With these divisions out of the way. Crusius goes on to explicate some rules on how proving is to be effected. Thus, he says, we should begin with the preliminaries of making all the concepts distinct and analysing the required conclusion. If we want to prove the existence of something, Crusius underlines, we have to base the proof ultimately on experience, which is our only criterion of existence. This does not mean that we can use only a posteriori proofs for this, since we can also use an a priori proof to justify the existence of something from the existence of something else, for instance, through causal connections.
Proofs are based on premisses, but should the premisses then in turn be justified? Crusius notes that all true scholars are committed to linking all conclusions that we want to proof with the highest grounds of all thinking. Yet, he admits, in individual scholarly treatises such long chains of proof are cumbersome and we should, in case of proofs aimed for convincing certain persons, not go further than what our opponents consider acceptable, and in case of proofs aimed for establishing some truth, not go further than to certain postulates that require no further proof and to lemmas from other sciences.
With such basic rules established, Crusius moves on to discuss fallacies, which he quickly admits is a topic, the various types of which need not be learned – and although he then proceeds to list various types of fallacies, this listing shows almost nothing of interest, so we can skip it over. What is more interesting is the notion of colliding or conflicting proofs, which Crusius has inherited from Hoffman and which bears striking resemblance with the so-called antinomies of Kant. In effect, Crusius defines colliding proofs as a case where we have various proofs that seem trustworthy by their form and matter and have the necessary signs for truth, but these proofs also lead to conclusions that cannot all be true at the same time. The colliding proofs are not fallacies as such, because proofs with similar properties are reliable in some contexts, but not just in this particular case.
The first question is, Crusius notes, how colliding proofs are possible: how can a proof have all the signs of being true, without being so always? One problem here is, Crusius explains, that something cannot be both true and false at the same time. His answer is to distinguish objective from subjective truth: objectively considered, nothing can be both true and false at the same time, but what is objectively false can still be subjectively true, that is, have signs of truth, but only in a restricted sense. Another problem is that colliding proofs seem to refute our capacity to know what is true, if we cannot rely on signs of truth. Crusius points out that these signs of truth do work, but with restrictions.
What then are the particular reasons for the appearance of colliding proofs? One special reason Crusius picks out are the latter two of his fundamental principles and all propositions based on them, which are reliable within their limits, but lack the completely universal validity of the law of contradiction. Thus, he explains in more detail, although these principles hold of finite things, they might have exceptions with infinite, which is not just different from finite things by some quantitative degree, but by its essence. Furthermore, Crusius adds, even if these principles hold of things in the known parts of the world, we do not know whether things are different in other parts of this world or at least in another possible world. Crusius concludes by assuring the reader that God must have had a good reason for making these principles work only within these restrictions, and any errors are just an unavoidable side effect. Besides, he adds, the collisions are a clear criterion, by which we know we have overreached the limits of our knowledge.
Crusius adds that not all collisions indicate fundamental restrictions of our knowledge, but some of them are generated by following principles that are not yet fully determined, so that we are not aware of all restrictions for their application. This happens, he suggests, when we are dealing with complex cases, where it is too hard to think all details at once and we have to just take the most usual details and abstract a universal rule from them, for instance, when in moral questions we cannot evaluate all factors, but have to assume a universal rule to decide at least something. Furthermore, Crusius notes, we might also just not have ever dealt earlier with cases where the restrictions of these principles become obvious: he gives as an example the development of Christian philosophy, where tenets of the religion have required the introduction of new restrictions to old principles followed universally by pre-Christian philosophers. Finally, Crusius points out the particular case of causal deduction, where we might still lack the full knowledge of some object and its influence, so that we are forced to be satisfied with what we have experienced and presume that things will follow the same course in the future.
Moving on to the collisions themselves, Crusius notes that they can involve formal principles used as signs for possibility, existence or connection of things. Such formal collisions happen especially in metaphysics, he adds, and they are the closest to the later Kantian antinomies. Crusius reminds the reader that these collisions always involve something more than just the law of contradiction, which allows no exceptions. Thus, the colliding proofs use principles that show something to be incomprehensible for us, although this incomprehensibility might just reveal the restrictions of the human mind. Crusius especially emphasises the force of obligation to decide, which of two seemingly equal proofs is to be accepted: for instance, he suggests, although the notion of freedom involves much that goes beyond our comprehension, we should accept it, because only freedom can explain the existence of divine law and moral guilt.
Crusius also thinks that the law of sufficient cause can never contradict the law of contradiction and proofs based on the first law are thus to be preferred over other proofs. For example, he explains, although the notion of creation of the world seems incomprehensible to us, we must accept it, because the world is such that it requires some ultimate causes.The final case of formal collision Crusius investigates involves using an otherwise reliable principle that in a particular context would force us to remove certain features of a thing, without which it could not be thought. For instance, he exemplifies, if we assume that a thing A can be divided infinitely, an actual infinite division would mean removing such intrinsic features of A, like its extension.
Just like some collisions involve just formal principles, Crusius explains, other collisions concern only the material propositions used in the proofs. Such collisions, he notes, occur when investigating efficient causes, especially in questions of morality. Crusius goes to great lengths to establish how to solve such moral dilemmas. To put it short, it all hinges on first analysing what justification each of the colliding proofs is based on and then finding out some principles of higher kind, on which to test the justifications of each proof. Even with this method, Crusius admits, moral collisions are often left undecided, because no satisfactory higher ground can be found.
Crusius goes through several ways to classify proofs, starting with whether the proofs use only the proposition of contradiction or whether they rely also on the two other fundamental propositions. Furthermore, he adds, proofs can be divided according to whether the method used is the demonstration or the method of probability. The first kind – demonstrative proofs – can then be combined with the classification of the first sentence, so that we gain the concepts of geometrical demonstration, which uses only the highest fundamental proposition, and disciplinary demonstration, which takes advantage also of the two other fundamental propositions.
Crusius also divides proofs in a priori, a posteriori and mixed proofs. Of these, he explains, a priori proof establishes not just that the conclusion is true, but also why it is true. A priori proof can also be what Crusius calls a hypothetical a priori proof, which tries to develop a conclusion implicitly contained in some premisses, or an absolute a priori proof, where the conclusion is intrinsically connected, but not implicitly connected with the premisses. The names of these subtypes is explained by hypothetical a priori proof being also hypothetical in the sense of merely explicating the premisses, while the absolute proof should establish truths through the mere fundamental propositions and axioms immediately dependent on them, such as those involving causal powers of things.
A posteriori proof, then, means for Crusius a proof which establishes only the truth of the conclusion without explaining it. As is to be expected, he includes all proofs dependent on experience in this class, but somewhat surprisingly also the so-called proofs ad absurdum, where a conclusion is derived by showing that the supposition of its falsity leads to absurd conclusions (of course, the latter do not explain why something is the case).
Crusius includes also a third kind of or mixed proof, which should be in some sense a priori and in another a posteriori. His paradigmatic example of such a proof is those found in geometry, where objects according to some defined concepts are postulated to exist and then the existence or characteristic of some objects is established. Such proofs are first and foremost a posteriori, since they do not really explain the conclusion – that’s why Crusius calls them mixed a posteriori proofs – but the method is still a priori in the sense that the justifying ground of the proof is comprehended from the mere idea of the proposition to be proved.
All proofs should prove the truth of their conclusions, Crusius says, but not all of them establish the necessity of the conclusion. A priori proofs, he states, always do this, but the degree of necessity depends on the necessity of their grounds: thus, Crusius notes, if we want to prove the existence of something absolutely necessary, it must be proven a priori from the properties of God. When it comes to other kinds of proof, he states, deductions ad absurdum and mixed proofs prove the necessity of their conclusions, while proofs from experiences prove only the truth of their conclusions.
Observing the purpose of proofs, Crusius notes that they either prove something from the standpoint of truth and try to establish some conclusion as true, or then they prove from the standpoint of humans, that is, indicate what a person must admit, if they accept something as true. Another point of division concerns the question whether the proof uses only the tools of understanding or whether it aims to justify some course of action and is thus dependent also on moral issues.
With these divisions out of the way. Crusius goes on to explicate some rules on how proving is to be effected. Thus, he says, we should begin with the preliminaries of making all the concepts distinct and analysing the required conclusion. If we want to prove the existence of something, Crusius underlines, we have to base the proof ultimately on experience, which is our only criterion of existence. This does not mean that we can use only a posteriori proofs for this, since we can also use an a priori proof to justify the existence of something from the existence of something else, for instance, through causal connections.
Proofs are based on premisses, but should the premisses then in turn be justified? Crusius notes that all true scholars are committed to linking all conclusions that we want to proof with the highest grounds of all thinking. Yet, he admits, in individual scholarly treatises such long chains of proof are cumbersome and we should, in case of proofs aimed for convincing certain persons, not go further than what our opponents consider acceptable, and in case of proofs aimed for establishing some truth, not go further than to certain postulates that require no further proof and to lemmas from other sciences.
With such basic rules established, Crusius moves on to discuss fallacies, which he quickly admits is a topic, the various types of which need not be learned – and although he then proceeds to list various types of fallacies, this listing shows almost nothing of interest, so we can skip it over. What is more interesting is the notion of colliding or conflicting proofs, which Crusius has inherited from Hoffman and which bears striking resemblance with the so-called antinomies of Kant. In effect, Crusius defines colliding proofs as a case where we have various proofs that seem trustworthy by their form and matter and have the necessary signs for truth, but these proofs also lead to conclusions that cannot all be true at the same time. The colliding proofs are not fallacies as such, because proofs with similar properties are reliable in some contexts, but not just in this particular case.
The first question is, Crusius notes, how colliding proofs are possible: how can a proof have all the signs of being true, without being so always? One problem here is, Crusius explains, that something cannot be both true and false at the same time. His answer is to distinguish objective from subjective truth: objectively considered, nothing can be both true and false at the same time, but what is objectively false can still be subjectively true, that is, have signs of truth, but only in a restricted sense. Another problem is that colliding proofs seem to refute our capacity to know what is true, if we cannot rely on signs of truth. Crusius points out that these signs of truth do work, but with restrictions.
What then are the particular reasons for the appearance of colliding proofs? One special reason Crusius picks out are the latter two of his fundamental principles and all propositions based on them, which are reliable within their limits, but lack the completely universal validity of the law of contradiction. Thus, he explains in more detail, although these principles hold of finite things, they might have exceptions with infinite, which is not just different from finite things by some quantitative degree, but by its essence. Furthermore, Crusius adds, even if these principles hold of things in the known parts of the world, we do not know whether things are different in other parts of this world or at least in another possible world. Crusius concludes by assuring the reader that God must have had a good reason for making these principles work only within these restrictions, and any errors are just an unavoidable side effect. Besides, he adds, the collisions are a clear criterion, by which we know we have overreached the limits of our knowledge.
Crusius adds that not all collisions indicate fundamental restrictions of our knowledge, but some of them are generated by following principles that are not yet fully determined, so that we are not aware of all restrictions for their application. This happens, he suggests, when we are dealing with complex cases, where it is too hard to think all details at once and we have to just take the most usual details and abstract a universal rule from them, for instance, when in moral questions we cannot evaluate all factors, but have to assume a universal rule to decide at least something. Furthermore, Crusius notes, we might also just not have ever dealt earlier with cases where the restrictions of these principles become obvious: he gives as an example the development of Christian philosophy, where tenets of the religion have required the introduction of new restrictions to old principles followed universally by pre-Christian philosophers. Finally, Crusius points out the particular case of causal deduction, where we might still lack the full knowledge of some object and its influence, so that we are forced to be satisfied with what we have experienced and presume that things will follow the same course in the future.
Moving on to the collisions themselves, Crusius notes that they can involve formal principles used as signs for possibility, existence or connection of things. Such formal collisions happen especially in metaphysics, he adds, and they are the closest to the later Kantian antinomies. Crusius reminds the reader that these collisions always involve something more than just the law of contradiction, which allows no exceptions. Thus, the colliding proofs use principles that show something to be incomprehensible for us, although this incomprehensibility might just reveal the restrictions of the human mind. Crusius especially emphasises the force of obligation to decide, which of two seemingly equal proofs is to be accepted: for instance, he suggests, although the notion of freedom involves much that goes beyond our comprehension, we should accept it, because only freedom can explain the existence of divine law and moral guilt.
Crusius also thinks that the law of sufficient cause can never contradict the law of contradiction and proofs based on the first law are thus to be preferred over other proofs. For example, he explains, although the notion of creation of the world seems incomprehensible to us, we must accept it, because the world is such that it requires some ultimate causes.The final case of formal collision Crusius investigates involves using an otherwise reliable principle that in a particular context would force us to remove certain features of a thing, without which it could not be thought. For instance, he exemplifies, if we assume that a thing A can be divided infinitely, an actual infinite division would mean removing such intrinsic features of A, like its extension.
Just like some collisions involve just formal principles, Crusius explains, other collisions concern only the material propositions used in the proofs. Such collisions, he notes, occur when investigating efficient causes, especially in questions of morality. Crusius goes to great lengths to establish how to solve such moral dilemmas. To put it short, it all hinges on first analysing what justification each of the colliding proofs is based on and then finding out some principles of higher kind, on which to test the justifications of each proof. Even with this method, Crusius admits, moral collisions are often left undecided, because no satisfactory higher ground can be found.
sunnuntai 14. kesäkuuta 2026
Crusius, Christian August: Road to certainty and reliability – Analysing obscure propositions
Having investigated how to define and divide concepts, Crusius turns next to the question what applied logic has to say about propositions. He notes that most perfections and imperfections that propositions could have do not require specific rules, since they would concern the whole logic. The only topics left to consider in this regard, Crusius says, are rules for avoiding obscurity in propositions and rules for analysing propositions into their constituent propositions.
Starting with obscurities in propositions, Crusius notes the most prominent reasons why a proposition is obscure. These reasons include ambiguity of words and concepts belonging to two different genera. Crusius exemplifies the latter with one of his pet peeves: when we speak of grounds of something, we might be talking of causes or of existential grounds.
A specific case of obscurity Crusius mentions involves words indicating some quantity, like great or best. Such words create obscurities, he explains, if we do not have any clear measure to which to compare them (thus, if I say that this is the best world, this is still obscure, since we do not know on what scale this goodness is measured on). Even more obscure the case becomes, if instead of one quantity we have several and we do not know what it is we are talking about (for instance, if someone is said to have good memory, it is unclear whether e.g. they are quick to memorise things or whether they retain for a long time what they have memorised).
Moving on to the second topic or logical analysis or exposition of propositions, Crusius means by this showing what other propositions are thought at the same time when a certain proposition is thought distinctly. He notices at once that logical analysis does not mean going through all propositions that can be deduced from the proposition-to-be-analysed, if they cannot be thought with this original proposition. This does not mean that the propositions found through analysis need to be explicitly observable in the analysed proposition, Crusius adds: for example, although it is not evident from the form of the proposition, all real definitions include an implicit statement that the subject of the proposition exists or is at least possible. Similarly imperatives include also implicit propositions about the will of the speaker and often even indications of moral necessity.
Starting with obscurities in propositions, Crusius notes the most prominent reasons why a proposition is obscure. These reasons include ambiguity of words and concepts belonging to two different genera. Crusius exemplifies the latter with one of his pet peeves: when we speak of grounds of something, we might be talking of causes or of existential grounds.
A specific case of obscurity Crusius mentions involves words indicating some quantity, like great or best. Such words create obscurities, he explains, if we do not have any clear measure to which to compare them (thus, if I say that this is the best world, this is still obscure, since we do not know on what scale this goodness is measured on). Even more obscure the case becomes, if instead of one quantity we have several and we do not know what it is we are talking about (for instance, if someone is said to have good memory, it is unclear whether e.g. they are quick to memorise things or whether they retain for a long time what they have memorised).
Moving on to the second topic or logical analysis or exposition of propositions, Crusius means by this showing what other propositions are thought at the same time when a certain proposition is thought distinctly. He notices at once that logical analysis does not mean going through all propositions that can be deduced from the proposition-to-be-analysed, if they cannot be thought with this original proposition. This does not mean that the propositions found through analysis need to be explicitly observable in the analysed proposition, Crusius adds: for example, although it is not evident from the form of the proposition, all real definitions include an implicit statement that the subject of the proposition exists or is at least possible. Similarly imperatives include also implicit propositions about the will of the speaker and often even indications of moral necessity.
perjantai 5. kesäkuuta 2026
Crusius, Christian August: Road to certainty and reliability – Divisions
After definitions, Crusius moves on to divisions, in which a more extensive logical concept (genus) is separated into narrower logical concepts contained in it (species and in rare cases even individuals) adequately, in other words, in such a manner that all individuals of the genus belong to one and only one of the divided species. Crusius is clear to distinguish division from mere distinction of concepts in general, which could be applied also to concepts that are not logical (say, when distinguishing cause from effect). He also points out the obvious fact that the divided concept is more undetermined and the narrower concepts go through all the possible determinations that could be attached to the divided concept.
Just like definitions, Crusius divides divisions into nominal and real kinds. By nominal division, he means an account of different meanings an ambiguous word has. In addition to this definition, nominal divisions are not of that much interest to Crusius, who deals more with real divisions, where species or individuals contained in an abstract concept are separated from one another. Crusius notes that real divisions come with four important elements: firstly, we have divided and undetermined general concept, secondly, the narrower concepts, into which the general concept is divided or determined, thirdly, the difference between the different members of the division or the narrower concepts, and finally, the point of division in the undetermined concept, to which the narrower concepts or separated species relate as further determinations. Crusius states that this point of division can be an existential or causal abstraction, and in the former case, an external or internal abstraction.
Crusius points out many reasons why we need to make divisions, first of them being that division brings abstract concepts closer to practical applications. Furthermore, he adds, if we did not have a clear idea of a hierarchy of a general concept dividing into many species, we would have to make do with mere individuals, with no idea of their commonalities, thus being deprived of many important truths. Yet, the main use Crusius envisions for divisions lies in their application in disjunctive deductions.
Crusius goes through the most prominent classifications of real divisions. Thus, real divisions are either divisions of logical oppositions or divisions of real oppositions and also either divisions of contraries or divisions of contradictories. Furthermore, Crusius notes that if we compare divisions applied to the same general concept, these alternative divisions can be subordinated – one division applies the other division and then divides its members further – or coordinated, that is, made according to completely different schema.
Besides these classifications, Crusius hands out some rules, such that the point of division should optimally be essential to the divided general concept and that in choosing from different alternative divisions, we should consider what is the most useful of them. Finally, he shares some methods for finding divisions, such as following experiences of differences or going through possible determinations and causal connections of the general concept to be divided.
Just like definitions, Crusius divides divisions into nominal and real kinds. By nominal division, he means an account of different meanings an ambiguous word has. In addition to this definition, nominal divisions are not of that much interest to Crusius, who deals more with real divisions, where species or individuals contained in an abstract concept are separated from one another. Crusius notes that real divisions come with four important elements: firstly, we have divided and undetermined general concept, secondly, the narrower concepts, into which the general concept is divided or determined, thirdly, the difference between the different members of the division or the narrower concepts, and finally, the point of division in the undetermined concept, to which the narrower concepts or separated species relate as further determinations. Crusius states that this point of division can be an existential or causal abstraction, and in the former case, an external or internal abstraction.
Crusius points out many reasons why we need to make divisions, first of them being that division brings abstract concepts closer to practical applications. Furthermore, he adds, if we did not have a clear idea of a hierarchy of a general concept dividing into many species, we would have to make do with mere individuals, with no idea of their commonalities, thus being deprived of many important truths. Yet, the main use Crusius envisions for divisions lies in their application in disjunctive deductions.
Crusius goes through the most prominent classifications of real divisions. Thus, real divisions are either divisions of logical oppositions or divisions of real oppositions and also either divisions of contraries or divisions of contradictories. Furthermore, Crusius notes that if we compare divisions applied to the same general concept, these alternative divisions can be subordinated – one division applies the other division and then divides its members further – or coordinated, that is, made according to completely different schema.
Besides these classifications, Crusius hands out some rules, such that the point of division should optimally be essential to the divided general concept and that in choosing from different alternative divisions, we should consider what is the most useful of them. Finally, he shares some methods for finding divisions, such as following experiences of differences or going through possible determinations and causal connections of the general concept to be divided.
keskiviikko 3. kesäkuuta 2026
Crusius, Christian August: Road to certainty and reliability – Definitions
If in the previous chapter Crusius dealt with the application of sensations and experience, he now turns his attention toward abstract ideas, which due to their non-concreteness are prone to confusion and might even not correspond to anything existent. Thus, he argues, abstract concepts should always be defined. By definition Crusius means a method of making objects of an abstract concept distinguishable from other objects. Definition needs therefore not reveal the fundamental essence of a thing. Still, it is something more than mere description, which just collects some distinctly abstracted predicates of a thing, which still are not sufficient to distinguish the thing from others, except perhaps in some limited context.
Crusius goes on to indicate some basic rules about definitions. Definition, he says, should contain only concepts that belong to the defined object always and are thus logically essential to it. This means that the concepts contained in a definition are either genera or propria, which in case of definitions are usually called specific differences. Furthermore, Crusius continues, these logically essential concepts can be either essential as such to the object defined or just natural, which then have to be used sparingly and always with the appropriate restriction that they belong to the object regularly and are lacking only in extraordinary cases. Some of the logically essential concepts, he adds, are essential to the object in themselves, but others only when we suppose the existence of the world.
Parts of a definition, Crusius explains, must be more distinct than the defined object, in other words, obscure concepts should not be defined by other obscure concepts. Especially metaphors and circular definitions should be avoided. Even so, he admits, the parts of the definition need not be fully distinct, just more distinct than the object defined. Crusius adds also that a definition must be adequate in the sense that it contains all the same individuals as the defined concept and nothing more.
Crusius divides definitions according to their purpose: the purpose of a nominal definition is to explain what a word means through an abstract idea separated into its constituents, while the purpose of real definition is to transform an obscure or at least concrete concept into an abstractly distinct and adequate concept. A clear consequence of these explanations is that the same definition can be nominal and real, depending on its purpose.
Starting with nominal definitions, Crusius notes that they should be used to define something possible, because it would be of no use to have a word that refers to something that could not be thought. Indeed, he adds, nominal definitions should in general be useful, which implies that they should not give occasion to error and confusion and should conform as much as possible to ordinary language Crusius emphasises also that nominal definitions can be used only to deduce nominal conclusions, how a word can or must be used.
Crusius divides real definitions into ideal definitions, which define only something possible that need not exist, and real definitions in the strict sense, which transform a concrete idea of an existing thing into an abstract and adequate idea. Beginning with ideal definitions, he notes that they are not to be confused with nominal definitions, which define only a name of something. Still, they are also not yet real definitions in the strict sense, because they cannot be used to deduce what really is or is not, but only hypothetical conclusions: what must be affirmed or denied when we presuppose the existence of objects corresponding to this concept. Of course, if we show that there exists something agreeing with the ideal definition, we have made it a real definition. Crusius also notes that in pure mathematics ideal definitions are always real definitions, since this discipline investigates abstract possible magnitudes with their properties and relations.
Real definitions in the strict sense, finally, are divided by Crusius into fundamental or first concepts and deduced or further definitions. By a first concept he means a definition that we can know without presupposing a proof from another definition. Crusius emphasises that a first concept is thus first only for us and need not be a natural ground for all other properties of a thing. Indeed, he adds, there could well be many first concepts, depending on what characteristics is our starting point for abstractions.
It depends on the thing in question where we should find their first concepts, Crusius explains. With physical, non-artificial entities (e.g. natural bodies and souls), the crucial question, according to him, is whether they are sensuous or not: with the former, the sensations provide us enough first concepts, while with the latter, we must just begin with the most undetermined idea. With artificial entities, the first concept is provided by their method of generation, and if they particularly are mechanical entities, the first concept is given by their immediate purpose and the structure required for this purpose. With moral entities (e.g. obligations and rights), Crusius notes, their first concept is defined by their purpose. Finally, he concludes, God and their activities can be defined only by symbolical concepts, indicating negatively what they are not, or pointing positively to their effects and to very indeterminate abstractions common to all things.
An important point for Crusius is that we should always demonstrate that a first concept does really refer to objects beyond our thought (if we couldn’t do that, it wouldn’t be a real definition, but only nominal or ideal). He does explain that in some cases we might not be speaking of physical, but of moral existence, in other words, that something should be the case (this is evidently what we should prove of moral entities). In any case, the proof can happen a posteriori from experience or a priori from connections between concepts or grounds.
The final type of real definition – that of further or deduced definitions – includes, Crusius says, many useless explanations that really add nothing to the first concept and even confuse what is meant with them. He delineates two useful kinds of deduced definitions, namely explanations of the essence of things, which serve to uncover the fundamental nature of the thing defined, and characteristic definitions, which help to distinguish individuals belonging to the defined class from others.
Starting with the explanations of the essence of things, Crusius notes that they might provide the physical ground – fundamental forces that constitute the defined thing – or the moral ground – explanation why the defined thing should or is allowed to exist (the traditional explanation why God allows the existence of sin is of this kind). In searching for these explanations, he adds, we might either start from a sensuously given first concept and then move to the grounds explaining these sensuous properties, or then we can start from an undetermined first concept of a non-sensuous or a moral thing and determine it in more detail.
Ending his discussion with characteristic definitions, Crusius explains that they are required, whenever the first concepts do not give us enough criteria for deciding how to apply these concepts. Examples of such characteristic definitions are criteria for deciding when something is true or false, criteria for deciding when some law applies, or criteria for recognising the existence of non-sensuous entities from their effects.
Crusius goes on to indicate some basic rules about definitions. Definition, he says, should contain only concepts that belong to the defined object always and are thus logically essential to it. This means that the concepts contained in a definition are either genera or propria, which in case of definitions are usually called specific differences. Furthermore, Crusius continues, these logically essential concepts can be either essential as such to the object defined or just natural, which then have to be used sparingly and always with the appropriate restriction that they belong to the object regularly and are lacking only in extraordinary cases. Some of the logically essential concepts, he adds, are essential to the object in themselves, but others only when we suppose the existence of the world.
Parts of a definition, Crusius explains, must be more distinct than the defined object, in other words, obscure concepts should not be defined by other obscure concepts. Especially metaphors and circular definitions should be avoided. Even so, he admits, the parts of the definition need not be fully distinct, just more distinct than the object defined. Crusius adds also that a definition must be adequate in the sense that it contains all the same individuals as the defined concept and nothing more.
Crusius divides definitions according to their purpose: the purpose of a nominal definition is to explain what a word means through an abstract idea separated into its constituents, while the purpose of real definition is to transform an obscure or at least concrete concept into an abstractly distinct and adequate concept. A clear consequence of these explanations is that the same definition can be nominal and real, depending on its purpose.
Starting with nominal definitions, Crusius notes that they should be used to define something possible, because it would be of no use to have a word that refers to something that could not be thought. Indeed, he adds, nominal definitions should in general be useful, which implies that they should not give occasion to error and confusion and should conform as much as possible to ordinary language Crusius emphasises also that nominal definitions can be used only to deduce nominal conclusions, how a word can or must be used.
Crusius divides real definitions into ideal definitions, which define only something possible that need not exist, and real definitions in the strict sense, which transform a concrete idea of an existing thing into an abstract and adequate idea. Beginning with ideal definitions, he notes that they are not to be confused with nominal definitions, which define only a name of something. Still, they are also not yet real definitions in the strict sense, because they cannot be used to deduce what really is or is not, but only hypothetical conclusions: what must be affirmed or denied when we presuppose the existence of objects corresponding to this concept. Of course, if we show that there exists something agreeing with the ideal definition, we have made it a real definition. Crusius also notes that in pure mathematics ideal definitions are always real definitions, since this discipline investigates abstract possible magnitudes with their properties and relations.
Real definitions in the strict sense, finally, are divided by Crusius into fundamental or first concepts and deduced or further definitions. By a first concept he means a definition that we can know without presupposing a proof from another definition. Crusius emphasises that a first concept is thus first only for us and need not be a natural ground for all other properties of a thing. Indeed, he adds, there could well be many first concepts, depending on what characteristics is our starting point for abstractions.
It depends on the thing in question where we should find their first concepts, Crusius explains. With physical, non-artificial entities (e.g. natural bodies and souls), the crucial question, according to him, is whether they are sensuous or not: with the former, the sensations provide us enough first concepts, while with the latter, we must just begin with the most undetermined idea. With artificial entities, the first concept is provided by their method of generation, and if they particularly are mechanical entities, the first concept is given by their immediate purpose and the structure required for this purpose. With moral entities (e.g. obligations and rights), Crusius notes, their first concept is defined by their purpose. Finally, he concludes, God and their activities can be defined only by symbolical concepts, indicating negatively what they are not, or pointing positively to their effects and to very indeterminate abstractions common to all things.
An important point for Crusius is that we should always demonstrate that a first concept does really refer to objects beyond our thought (if we couldn’t do that, it wouldn’t be a real definition, but only nominal or ideal). He does explain that in some cases we might not be speaking of physical, but of moral existence, in other words, that something should be the case (this is evidently what we should prove of moral entities). In any case, the proof can happen a posteriori from experience or a priori from connections between concepts or grounds.
The final type of real definition – that of further or deduced definitions – includes, Crusius says, many useless explanations that really add nothing to the first concept and even confuse what is meant with them. He delineates two useful kinds of deduced definitions, namely explanations of the essence of things, which serve to uncover the fundamental nature of the thing defined, and characteristic definitions, which help to distinguish individuals belonging to the defined class from others.
Starting with the explanations of the essence of things, Crusius notes that they might provide the physical ground – fundamental forces that constitute the defined thing – or the moral ground – explanation why the defined thing should or is allowed to exist (the traditional explanation why God allows the existence of sin is of this kind). In searching for these explanations, he adds, we might either start from a sensuously given first concept and then move to the grounds explaining these sensuous properties, or then we can start from an undetermined first concept of a non-sensuous or a moral thing and determine it in more detail.
Ending his discussion with characteristic definitions, Crusius explains that they are required, whenever the first concepts do not give us enough criteria for deciding how to apply these concepts. Examples of such characteristic definitions are criteria for deciding when something is true or false, criteria for deciding when some law applies, or criteria for recognising the existence of non-sensuous entities from their effects.
perjantai 29. toukokuuta 2026
Crusius, Christian August: Road to certainty and reliability – Experience
Crusius sets out as the aim of the practical part of his logic to show how to apply the capacities of understanding for knowing the truth. In order to do this, he explains, we must investigate, on the one hand, sensations or experiences, and on the other hand, judicious use of abstract ideas (memory and ingenuity, he thinks, require no rules). Starting from experience, Crusius notes that the word can refer to two things: to a certain kind of proposition and to an act of experiencing. He mostly deals with the propositions of experience, having only few things to say about the act of experiencing, and I will also focus on the former.
As a proposition, Crusius continues, experience means an immediately sensed connection of subject and predicate. Depending on the kind of sensation, the experience can then be either external or internal. Crusius underlines that internal experience should not be confused with axioms or immediate propositions. We are conscious of all propositions through internal sensation, he explains, but only such propositions are axioms, where we immediately sense an essential connection between the subject and the predicate, so that when the predicate is denied, the concept of subject must also disappear. On the other hand, a mere internal experience is a proposition where the subject and the predicate are internally sensed as existentially connected.
Although it would be natural to assume that in all experiences both the subject and the predicate would have to be sensuous, that is, ideas generated through sensation, without the aid of any abstraction, Crusius notes that we can sense also a mere existential connection of such objects that are thought through abstract ideas. Thus, he divides experiences into common and reflecting experience, based on whether the subject and the predicate of the experience are sensuous or abstract.
Crusius states that the certainty of the propositions of experience are shown by his earlier demonstrations about the certainty of our sensations. Of course, he adds, it is still a possibility that what we think is a proposition of experience contains something else, for instance, imaginations and even outright impossibilities, connected to obscure and incomplete sensations. Thus, Crusius concludes, we need some rules to decide when we have a true proposition of experience in front of us. Thus, while experience teaches us that in certain circumstances certain representations are generated in us, a proposition stating that something existing is connected with these representations is already dependent on further deduction. Other clear instances of propositions that cannot be propositions of experience, according to Crusius, are negative propositions (experience can only tell that we do not sense something), causal propositions (experience can only show connections between representations) and universal propositions (abstractions cannot be sensed as abstractions).
Crusius continues by noting that, according to experience, we do not sense simple substances nor their fundamental forces. This means, he explains, that we cannot sense the fundamental essence of anything, since things are divided into abstractions, simple substances and complex substances, out of which we can sense only the last one, and even in their case we cannot sense how they consist of simple substances, which we would have to do, in order to sense their essence. Many of seeming propositions of experience, Crusius concludes, are then only mixed experiences, that is, they require something added to sensations through proofs.
As a proposition, Crusius continues, experience means an immediately sensed connection of subject and predicate. Depending on the kind of sensation, the experience can then be either external or internal. Crusius underlines that internal experience should not be confused with axioms or immediate propositions. We are conscious of all propositions through internal sensation, he explains, but only such propositions are axioms, where we immediately sense an essential connection between the subject and the predicate, so that when the predicate is denied, the concept of subject must also disappear. On the other hand, a mere internal experience is a proposition where the subject and the predicate are internally sensed as existentially connected.
Although it would be natural to assume that in all experiences both the subject and the predicate would have to be sensuous, that is, ideas generated through sensation, without the aid of any abstraction, Crusius notes that we can sense also a mere existential connection of such objects that are thought through abstract ideas. Thus, he divides experiences into common and reflecting experience, based on whether the subject and the predicate of the experience are sensuous or abstract.
Crusius states that the certainty of the propositions of experience are shown by his earlier demonstrations about the certainty of our sensations. Of course, he adds, it is still a possibility that what we think is a proposition of experience contains something else, for instance, imaginations and even outright impossibilities, connected to obscure and incomplete sensations. Thus, Crusius concludes, we need some rules to decide when we have a true proposition of experience in front of us. Thus, while experience teaches us that in certain circumstances certain representations are generated in us, a proposition stating that something existing is connected with these representations is already dependent on further deduction. Other clear instances of propositions that cannot be propositions of experience, according to Crusius, are negative propositions (experience can only tell that we do not sense something), causal propositions (experience can only show connections between representations) and universal propositions (abstractions cannot be sensed as abstractions).
Crusius continues by noting that, according to experience, we do not sense simple substances nor their fundamental forces. This means, he explains, that we cannot sense the fundamental essence of anything, since things are divided into abstractions, simple substances and complex substances, out of which we can sense only the last one, and even in their case we cannot sense how they consist of simple substances, which we would have to do, in order to sense their essence. Many of seeming propositions of experience, Crusius concludes, are then only mixed experiences, that is, they require something added to sensations through proofs.
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