Whether it was called something (Etwas) or thing (Ding), which Crusius prefers, ontologies of the time often began from a concept opposite to nothing. By this thing that is not nothing, Crusius explains, we can mean anything whatsoever that can be thought of. Yet, he continues, we can also distinguish in the class of things that can be thought those which we can only think (merely possible things) and those that are or exist also outside our thought (actual things or things in a more proper sense).
Crusius follows Hoffman in trying to find criteria for recognising what is possible and what is not and finding ultimately three criteria, only one of which is absolutely certain. The basic sign of something being a possible thing, Crusius insists, is whether someone can think it: possibility is thus equated with an ideal comprehensibility. Since no one could think as true such things that contradict themselves or known truths, we must assume that such contradictions are a sign of an impossible thing.
The principle of non-contradiction, Crusius says, is a demand that all possible things should fulfill. Then again, he adds, all possible things need not be comprehensible to us humans: a point that Hoffman made before Crusius. The idea behind this rejection is that a more perfect mind (such as God) might be able to comprehend something we cannot. Thus, if such a perfect and undeceiving person tells us to believe some apparent absurdity (say, about three persons in one divinity), then we should believe him. Crusius points out two other cases where we should believe such absurdities to be true or at least possible. Firstly, since the law of non-contradiction is the highest criteria of possibility, we must believe a seeming absurdity, if denying it would create contradictions. Secondly, if we are obligated to assume something incomprehensible in order to perfect ourselves, then we should surely accept these incomprehensibilities as true or at least possible. If none of these conditions holds and nothing else speaks to the contrary, then we should think it impossible to separate what we cannot think as separated and to combine what we cannot think as combined. These two principles complete Crusius’ criteria of possibility.
Moving on to Crusius’ criterion for recognising what is actual we might wonder whether he is actually talking about necessity: if we try to deny something actual, we immediately or mediately assume something we cannot think as true, that is, something impossible. The perplexity might go away, if we assume that, just like possibility was defined in relation to the perfect divine mind, so perhaps actuality is also here defined in relation to God. After all, God knows perfectly what there is, so if he assumes something to be non-existent, which actually is, he would land in contradiction.
Humans are not divine, so we have only a limited connection to what is actual. The human criteria of actuality, Crusius says, are always linked to sensation, which Crusius defines as a state where we are immediately forced to assume something without any further proof and which will not be revealed as imagination or dream when compared with other sensations. Indeed, without sensation we could not know that anything exists outside our own thoughts. Even our own existence we become aware of not through our thinking, like Descartes insisted, but through our internal sensation, Crusius concludes.
Having thus delineated the realm of possible and actual things, as far as we humans can know them, Crusius defines some further concepts that he will study in more detail later. For instance, when we think of a thing, whether possible or actual, we think it as distinct from other things. In other words, we think what this thing is as different from all others or we think about its (metaphysical) essence. This essence might be divided into various aspects, which help to distinguish the thing in question from some things, but not from others, just as redness serves to distinguish rose from green things, but not from tomatoes. Such aspects Crusius calls properties or qualities. Since what a thing is is a question different from whether a thing is, existence is still something different from essence and its constituent properties: essence and properties are something we can think of, existence is something beyond thought.
keskiviikko 6. huhtikuuta 2022
tiistai 5. huhtikuuta 2022
Christian August Crusius: Draft of necessary truths of reason, in so far as they are set opposite to contingent ones (1745)
It is interesting to notice that some central ideas of Crusius’ philosophy are based on the work of his teacher, Hoffman, who, for instance, invented the notion of thelematology or study of human will, the topic of the first book of Crusius we have studied. Crusius’ work Entwurf der notwendigen Vernunftwahrheiten, wiefern sie den zufälligen entgegengestellt werden also starts with a very Hoffmanian notion: metaphysics is a study of necessary truths, both of those which are necessary as such and those which are necessary, if we assume or posit the existence of a world. He does exclude some necessary truths from the realm of metaphysics: those of practical philosophy, where necessary and contingent truths are difficult to distinguish, and those of mathematics, which are simply too numerous.
Crusius’ definition might seem rather uninteresting: after all, Kant said that this had been the idea behind traditional metaphysics. Yet, once we look at e.g. Wolff, we see him defining metaphysics through certain topics and even including such disciplines as empirical psychology in it. Indeed, it seems more likely that Kant was accustomed to the way metaphysics was defined in Hoffmanian tradition - more specifically, he had read Crusius - and now just transmitted this idea further.
Although Crusius speaks against defining metaphysics through its topics, he does divide it in accordance with them. We are probably not surprised to find ontology and natural theology as parts of metaphysics, and by speaking of metaphysical cosmology, Crusius appears to just want to restrict the traditional discipline of cosmology to necessary truths and exclude e.g. laws of movement. A more unexpected name on the list is the so-called metaphysical pneumatology. It roughly plays the same role as psychology in Wolff’s metaphysics. Yet, unlike psychology, pneumatology is said to study only the necessary essence of spirits. What is especially missing is an account of the human soul and its relation to body, since it is not necessary that there are embodied spirits.
Although necessity is then an important feature of metaphysics for Crusius, this does not mean that he would want everything in it to be demonstrated. In other words, he distinguishes between necessity in an ontological sense from certainty. This means that even mere proofs of probability suffice, if demonstrations are not available. Indeed, Crusius adds, they might be even needed, when the demonstrations are available, because common people might not be prepared for the intricacies of complex demonstrations.
I shall still deal in this post with some general facts about the first part of metaphysics or ontology, leaving more precise details of Crusius’ ontology and the other parts of his metaphysics to further posts. The topic of ontology, for Crusius, is the most general features of all things. This means, he explains, that whatever things were given, a keen mind could discern the whole ontology from them. Indeed, he says more generally, whatever the topic of a metaphysical discipline, we could in principle discern everything of that discipline from an instance of that topic.
Ontology, Crusius explains, must then deal with the simplest concepts possible. This simplicity is not the same as simplicity in what we can sense, such as the simplicity of colours, which we can distinguish from one another without being able to explain their difference. Such sensuous simples are only simple, he adds, because we haven’t yet been able to analyse them further. The ontological simples, on the other hand, are the result of an analysis, and we know we cannot analyse them further. Still, we can distinguish even these ontological simples, because they play different roles in the analysis of complex things.
Next time, I shall begin a study of one of these simple concepts, namely, the notion of a thing.
Crusius’ definition might seem rather uninteresting: after all, Kant said that this had been the idea behind traditional metaphysics. Yet, once we look at e.g. Wolff, we see him defining metaphysics through certain topics and even including such disciplines as empirical psychology in it. Indeed, it seems more likely that Kant was accustomed to the way metaphysics was defined in Hoffmanian tradition - more specifically, he had read Crusius - and now just transmitted this idea further.
Although Crusius speaks against defining metaphysics through its topics, he does divide it in accordance with them. We are probably not surprised to find ontology and natural theology as parts of metaphysics, and by speaking of metaphysical cosmology, Crusius appears to just want to restrict the traditional discipline of cosmology to necessary truths and exclude e.g. laws of movement. A more unexpected name on the list is the so-called metaphysical pneumatology. It roughly plays the same role as psychology in Wolff’s metaphysics. Yet, unlike psychology, pneumatology is said to study only the necessary essence of spirits. What is especially missing is an account of the human soul and its relation to body, since it is not necessary that there are embodied spirits.
Although necessity is then an important feature of metaphysics for Crusius, this does not mean that he would want everything in it to be demonstrated. In other words, he distinguishes between necessity in an ontological sense from certainty. This means that even mere proofs of probability suffice, if demonstrations are not available. Indeed, Crusius adds, they might be even needed, when the demonstrations are available, because common people might not be prepared for the intricacies of complex demonstrations.
I shall still deal in this post with some general facts about the first part of metaphysics or ontology, leaving more precise details of Crusius’ ontology and the other parts of his metaphysics to further posts. The topic of ontology, for Crusius, is the most general features of all things. This means, he explains, that whatever things were given, a keen mind could discern the whole ontology from them. Indeed, he says more generally, whatever the topic of a metaphysical discipline, we could in principle discern everything of that discipline from an instance of that topic.
Ontology, Crusius explains, must then deal with the simplest concepts possible. This simplicity is not the same as simplicity in what we can sense, such as the simplicity of colours, which we can distinguish from one another without being able to explain their difference. Such sensuous simples are only simple, he adds, because we haven’t yet been able to analyse them further. The ontological simples, on the other hand, are the result of an analysis, and we know we cannot analyse them further. Still, we can distinguish even these ontological simples, because they play different roles in the analysis of complex things.
Next time, I shall begin a study of one of these simple concepts, namely, the notion of a thing.
maanantai 4. huhtikuuta 2022
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.
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.
Tilaa:
Blogitekstit (Atom)