Addition. Concrete existence [Existenz], posited in its contradiction, is the appearance [Erscheinung]. The latter is not to be confused with the mere semblance [bloßen Schein]. The shine [Schein] is the proximate [nächste] truth of being or immediacy. The immediate is not what we think we have in it, it is not something self-sufficient and resting on itself, but instead merely semblance [Schein] and, as such, it is gathered together [zusammengefaßt] into the simplicity of the essence that is in itself. This is initially the totality of the shining within itself, but then does not stand pat with this interiority, having emerged instead as ground into concrete existence which, having its ground not in itself, but in an other instead, is precisely mere appearance. When we speak of an appearance, we associate with it the representation of an indeterminate multiplicity of concretely existing things whose being is simply mediation alone and which accordingly do not rest on themselves, but instead have validity only as moments. At the same time, however, it also lies herein that the essence does not remain behind or beyond the appearance but instead is, as it were, the infinite goodness [Güte] of releasing its shine into immediacy and granting it the joy of existing [Daseins]. The appearance posited in this way does not stand on its own feet and does not have its being in itself but in an other. Just as God as the essence is goodness by lending concrete existence to the moments of his shining in himself in order to create a world, so, too, God as the essence proves himself to be, at the same time, the power over it and the righteousness that makes manifest that the content of this concretely existing world is mere appearance, insofar as it wants to exist concretely for itself.
The appearance is in general a very important stage of the logical idea and one can say that philosophy distinguishes itself from ordinary consciousness by the fact that it regards as mere appearance what holds for the latter as a being [Seiendes] and as self-sufficient. However, what matters is that the meaning of appearance is construed properly. If, for example, it is said of something that it is merely an appearance, then this can be misunderstood as though, when compared with this mere appearance, a being or the immediate is of a higher order. In fact, precisely the reverse holds, namely, such that the appearance is something higher than a mere being. The appearance is in general the truth of being [Sein] and a richer determination than the latter insofar as appearance contains united in itself the moments of reflection-in-itself and reflection-in-another. In contrast to this, being or immediacy is still the one-sided absence of relation [Beziehungslose] and (seemingly) resting only on itself. But furthermore, this 'only' of the appearance points, of course, to a deficiency, a deficiency consisting in the fact that the appearance is as yet what is in itself broken, not having its footing in itself. What is higher than the mere appearance is first the actuality, which, as the third stage of the essence, will be treated later. – In the history of modern philosophy, it is Kant who deserves the credit of first rehabilitating the previously mentioned difference between ordinary and philosophical consciousness. Kant, meanwhile, stalled at the halfway point insofar as he construed the appearance merely in a subjective sense and, outside of it, established the abstract essence as the thing in itself, inaccessible to our cognition. To be appearance alone, this is the proper nature of the immediately objective [gegenständliche] world itself and, insofar as we know [wissen] the latter as such, we there recognize at the same time the essence which does not remain behind or beyond the appearance but instead manifests itself as the essence insofar as it lowers the world to the level of mere appearance. – Moreover, the naïve consciousness, with its demand for a totality, is not to be blamed if it is reluctant to content itself with subjective idealism's claim that we simply have to do with appearances alone. Only it easily occurs to this naïve consciousness, bent on saving the objectivity of knowing, to return to abstract immediacy and, without further ado, to hold fast to it as the true and actual. In a small work with the title, A Crystal Clear Report to the General Public Concerning the Actual Essence of the Newest Philosophy: An Attempt to Force the Reader to Understand [Berlin 1801],²³ Fichte treated in a popular format the contrast between subjective idealism and immediate consciousness in the form of a dialogue between author and reader. He endeavoured to demonstrate the legitimacy of the standpoint of subjective idealism. In this dialogue the reader complains to the author of his distress that he simply would not succeed in transporting himself to that standpoint and expresses how disconsolate he is about the notion that the things surrounding him are supposed to be not actual things but mere appearances. The reader is, of course, not to be blamed for this grievance insofar as he is supposed to regard himself as encapsulated in an impenetrable sphere of merely subjective representations. Moreover, apart from the merely subjective construal of appearance, it must be said, meanwhile, that we have plenty of reasons to be satisfied with the fact that, in regard to the things surrounding us, we have to do merely with appearances and not with solid and self-sufficient concrete existences, since in this case we would soon die of hunger, bodily as well as spiritually.

 Addition. The reflecting understanding quite frequently makes use of form and content as a pair of determinations, and indeed above all by considering the content essential and self-sufficient, and the form, by contrast, as inessential and not self-sufficient. Against this use, however, it should be noted that both are in fact equally essential and that, while there is no more a formless content than there is a formless stuff, these two (content and stuff-or-matter) are different from one another precisely by virtue of the fact that the latter, although in itself not devoid of form, nevertheless demonstrates itself in its existence [Dasein] to be indifferent to the form, whereas the content as such, in contrast to this, is what it is only by virtue of the fact that it contains the developed form in itself. In addition, however, we then find the form also as a concrete existence [Existenz] indifferent to the content and external to it, and this is the case because the appearance in general is still beset with externality. If we consider a book, for example, then as far as its content is concerned, it is, of course, irrelevant whether it is written or printed, whether it is bound in paper or leather. But then, by this means, it is in no way said that, apart from the external and irrelevant form, the content of the book itself is devoid of form. There are, to be sure, enough books that should rightly be designated formless in relation to the content as well. Yet in this relation to the content, formlessness means the same as informality [Unförmlichkeit], by which is understood not the absence of form altogether, but only the absence of the proper form. But the proper form is so far from being indifferent to the content that it is much more the content itself. A work of art lacking the proper form is, precisely for this reason, not proper, that is to say, not truly a work of art, and it is a poor excuse for an artist as such if it is said that the contents of his works is good, to be sure (indeed, even splendid), but they lack the proper form. Genuine works of art are precisely those whose content and form prove to be thoroughly identical. One can say of the Iliad that its content is the Trojan war or, more specifically, Achilles' wrath; in this way we have everything and yet only very little since what makes the Iliad the Iliad is the poetic form that that content has been shaped into. So, too, the content of Romeo and Juliet is the demise of two lovers, a demise brought about by the clash of their families; but this hardly does justice to Shakespeare's immortal tragedy. – Further, in regard to the relation of content and form in the scientific domain, it is necessary in this connection to recall the difference between philosophy and the other sciences. The finitude of the latter generally consists in the fact that thinking here, as a merely formal activitiy, takes up its content as something given from outside it. Moreover, the content is not known [gewußt] as determined from within by the thought underlying it, with the result that form and content do not completely pervade one another. In philosophy, by contrast, this separation falls away, and philosophy, for this reason, should be designated infinite knowing. Nevertheless, philosophical thinking is also quite frequently regarded as a merely formal activity and its contentlessness holds as a settled matter, especially when it comes to logic, which, it must be conceded, deals only with thoughts as such. If by 'content' one understands merely what is tangible in general, what can be perceived via the senses, then, of course, it will be willingly acknowledged that philosophy in general and logic in particular have no such content, i.e. no content perceivable by the senses. But, then, with respect to what is understood by 'content', even ordinary consciousness and the general use of language by no means stops short at what is merely perceivable via the senses or even at mere existence in general. When one speaks of a book devoid of content, what one understands by that is, as is well known, not merely a book with empty pages but rather the sort of book whose content is as good as no content. On closer inspection, it will turn out, in the last analysis, that what is initially designated as content has, for a cultivated consciousness, no other meaning than that of having the form of thought [Gedankenmäßigkeit]. With that, however, it is then also admitted that the thoughts are not to be regarded as indifferent to the content and as empty forms in themselves, and that, as in art, so too in every other domain, the truth and soundness [Gediegenheit] of the content rests essentially upon the fact that it demonstrates itself to be identical to the form.

 Addition. The essential relationship is the determinate, completely general manner of appearing. Everything that exists concretely stands in relationship and this relationship is what is truthful in each concrete existence. What exists concretely is thereby not abstractly for itself but only in an other, but in this other it is the relation to itself and the relationship is the unity of the relation to itself and the relation to an other.
The relationship of the whole and the parts is untrue insofar as its concept and reality do not correspond to one another. The concept of the whole is that of containing parts [Teile]; if then, however, the whole is posited as what it is in terms of its concept, if it is partitioned [geteilt], then it thereby ceases to be a whole. Now, to be sure, there are things that correspond to this relationship, but these are also, precisely for that reason, merely low-level and untrue concrete existences [Existenzen]. In this connection generally, it should be remembered that, if one speaks of the untrue in a philosophical discussion, this should not be understood as though nothing of this sort concretely exists. A bad state or a sick body may, nonetheless, exist concretely; but these objects are untrue for their concept and their reality do not correspond to one another. – The relationship of the whole and the parts, as the immediate relationship, is generally the sort of relationship that very readily suggests itself to the reflecting understanding and that it thus frequently makes do with, even when much more profound relationships are in fact at issue. Hence, for example, the members and organs of a living body are not to be considered merely as its parts, since they are what they are only in their unity, and by no means do they behave indifferently towards this unity. These members and organs first become mere parts in the hands of the anatomist who has to deal no longer with living bodies but with cadavers. This is not to say that such dissection should not take place at all, but that the external and mechanical relationship of the whole and the parts does not suffice to know organic life in its truth. – This is the case to a much higher degree in the application of this relationship to the spirit and the formations of the spiritual world. If in psychology one does not speak explicitly of parts of the soul or the spirit, the representation of that finite relationship nevertheless underlies the treatment of this discipline by the understanding, insofar as the diverse forms of the spiritual activity are enumerated and described, one after another, solely in isolation as so-called particular powers and faculties.

 Addition 1. In comparison with the immediate relationship of the whole and parts, the relationship of force and its expression should be regarded as infinite since in it the identity of both sides is posited, whereas in the former it was on hand only in itself. The whole, although in itself consisting of parts, nonetheless ceases to be a whole by being partitioned; by contrast, the force preserves itself as force only by expressing itself and, in its expression, returning to itself since the expression is itself force in turn. Furthermore, however, this relationship, too, is in turn finite, and its finitude consists in general in this mediatedness just as, conversely, the relationship of the whole and the parts has demonstrated itself to be finite on account of its immediacy. The finitude of the mediated relationship of the force and its expression exhibits itself first in the fact that each force is conditioned and, in order to subsist, needs something other than itself. Thus, for example, magnetic force, as is well known, is borne especially by iron whose other properties (colour, specific weight, relationship to acids, and so forth) are independent of this relation to magnetism. Something similar is the case for all other forces that prove themselves to be thoroughly conditioned and mediated by something other than themselves. – The force's finitude shows itself further in the fact that, in order to express itself, it is in need of solicitation. That by means of which the force is solicitated is itself in turn the expression of a force that must likewise be solicited in order to express itself. In this way, we get either the infinite progress again or the reciprocity of soliciting and being solicited, whereby then, however, an absolute beginning of the movement is still missing. The force is not yet the purpose, what determines itself in itself; the content is a specifically given content and by expressing itself, the force is accordingly, as one would say, blind in its effect, by which, then, precisely the difference between an abstract expression of force and purposive activity is to be understood.

 Addition 2. The claim, repeated so often, that only the expression of forces, not forces themselves, are to be known, must be rejected as unfounded since the force is precisely this alone, to express itself, and we accordingly recognize at the same time the force itself in the totality of the appearance, construed as law. Nevertheless, it must not be overlooked thereby that a correct intimation of the finitude of this relationship is contained in this claim about the unknowability of the forces in themselves. The individual expressions of a force initially confront us in an indeterminate multiplicity and in their instantiation [Vereinzelung] as contingent. We then reduce this multiplicity to its inner unity which we designate as force and become aware of the seemingly contingent as something necessary, in that we recognize the law reigning therein. But, now, the diverse forces themselves are in turn a manifold and appear, merely next to one another, as contingent. One speaks accordingly in empirical physics of forces of weight, magnetism, electricity, and so forth; so, too, in empirical psychology one speaks of the power of memory, the power of imagining, the power of the will, and all sorts of other powers of the soul. Here, then, the need recurs of attending to these diverse forces likewise as a unified whole, and this need would not be satisfied by reducing the diverse forces somehow to one primal force [Urkraft] common to them. In such a primal force we would in fact have simply an empty abstraction as devoid of content as the abstract thing in itself. In addition, the relationship of force and its expression is essentially the mediated relationship and so it contradicts the concept of force, if force is construed as original or resting on itself. – Given the way things stand with the nature of force, we readily tolerate those who say that the concretely existing world is an expression of divine forces, but we will take exception to regarding God himself as a mere force, since force is still a subordinate and finite determination. When people, with the reawakening of the sciences, proceeded to reduce the individual appearances of nature to forces underlying them, it was in this sense that the Church also condemned this undertaking as godless since, if the forces of gravitation, vegetation, and so forth should occasion the movement of the celestial bodies, the growth of plants, and so forth, then nothing would remain for the divine governance of the world to do, and God would thus be diminished to an idle spectator in such a play of forces. Now, to be sure, researchers of nature and especially Newton, while availing themselves of the form of reflection of force for the explanation of natural phenomena, initially recommend explicitly that, in doing so, there should be no breach to the honour of God as the creator and ruler of the world. But it is one of the consequences of explaining things on the basis of forces that understanding by way of rationalizing progresses to the point of establishing the individual forces, each for itself, and clinging to them in this finitude as ultimate, such that, over against the finitized world of self-sufficient forces and stuffs, what remains for the determination of God is only the abstract infinity of an unknowable, supreme, other-worldly being. This is then the standpoint of materialism and the modern Enlightenment which, having renounced any claim to know [wissen] what God is, reduces its knowledge of God to the mere fact that God is. Now, the finite forms of understanding by no means suffice for knowing either nature or the formations of the spiritual world as they truly are and, insofar as they do not suffice, it must be admitted that the Church and religious consciousness are right in the polemic mentioned here. Nevertheless, on the other hand the formal legitimacy, first, of the empirical sciences must not be overlooked, a legitimacy that generally consists in vindicating the world on hand in the determinacy of its content for the thoughtful knowledge of it and not leaving matters merely with the abstract belief in God's creation and governance of the world. If our religious consciousness, supported by the authority of the Church, teaches us that it is God who created the world through his almighty will and that it is he who guides the stars on their paths and lends every creature its subsistence and flourishing, the Why? still remains to be answered and it is above all the answer to this question that forms the common task of science, empirical as well as philosophical. When religious consciousness, not recognizing this task and the right contained in it, appeals to the inscrutability of the ways of God, it itself takes up in this way the previously mentioned standpoint of the mere Enlightenment of the understanding. Such an appeal must be considered no more than an arbitrary assurance that contradicts the explicit command of the Christian religion to know God in spirit and in truth and that derives from a humility that is in no way Christian but instead conceited and fanatical.

 Addition. Like the unity of the two preceding relationships, the relationship of inner and outer is the sublation at once of mere relativity and appearance altogether. Yet because the understanding, nonetheless, holds fast to the inner and outer in separation from one another, these are a pair of empty forms, the one as void [nichtig] as the other. – It is of enormous importance in the consideration of nature as well as the spiritual world to grasp properly what is involved in the relationship of inner and outer and to guard against the error of presuming that only the former is essential and what actually matters, while the latter is inessential and irrelevant. We meet with this error initially when, as often happens, the difference between nature and spirit is reduced to the abstract difference between outer and inner. As far as the construal of nature is concerned in this connection, it is what is external in general not only for the spirit but also in itself. Yet this 'in general' is not to be taken in the sense of an abstract externality since there is no such thing. Instead it should be taken in such a way that the idea (which forms the common content of nature and spirit) is at hand in nature merely externally but precisely for that reason at the same time merely internally as well. Now, however much the abstract understanding with its 'either/or' might resist this construal of nature, we nonetheless find this manner of construing nature in our other modes of consciousness and, most definitely, in our religious consciousness. According to the latter, nature is no less a revelation of God than the spiritual world is, and they differ from one another by the fact that, while nature does not manage to become conscious of its divine essence, this is the explicit task of the (accordingly, initially finite) spirit. Those who regard the essence of nature as something merely internal and therefore inaccessible to us, come to occupy the standpoint of those ancients who regarded God as envious (against whom, however, Plato and Aristotle already declared their opposition). God communicates, God reveals what he is and, indeed, first through and in nature. – Furthermore, the lack or imperfection of an object generally consists in its being merely something internal and thereby at the same time merely something external or, what is the same, being merely external and thereby merely internal. A child, for example, as a human being in general, is, of course, a rational being, but the reason of the child as such is on hand at first merely internally, i.e. as disposition, calling, and so forth; for the child, this merely internal character, as the will of his parents, the familiarity with his teachers, and generally the rational world surrounding him, has the form of something merely external. The education and formation of the child consists, then, in the fact that it also becomes for itself what it at first is only in itself and thereby for others (adults). Reason, at hand in the child at first only as an inner possibility, is made actual by education, and so too, conversely, the child becomes conscious of the ethical world, religion, and science as something that is its own and internal to it, after these had first been regarded as an external authority. – As things go with the child, they go in this connection with the adult as well, insofar as the adult, contary to his vocation [Bestimmung], remains caught up in the naturalness of his knowing [Wissen] and willing. Thus, for example, for the criminal, the punishment to which he is subjected has, to be sure, the form of an external coercion [Gewalt], but it is in fact only the manifestation of his own criminal will. – We should also take from the discussion so far what we are to think of the fact that someone, in the face of his meagre accomplishments, indeed, reprehensible actions, appeals to the inner make-up distinct from them, the inner make-up of his allegedly splendid intentions and sentiments. To be sure, in an individual instance it may be the case that well-meant intentions are thwarted by unfavourable external circumstances, that purposeful plans come to naught in the execution. Still, in general, even here the essential unity of the inner and the outer holds such that it must be said: a human being is what he does and the mendacious vanity that comforts itself with the consciousness of an inner splendidness must be countered with the words of the Gospel: 'By their fruits, you shall know them' [Matt. 7:16]. These majestic words hold in the first place in an ethical and religious respect, but they are valid in relation to scientific and artistic achievements as well. As far as the latter are concerned, a teacher with a sharp eye, convinced of a boy's decisive potential, may express the opinion that a Raphael or a Mozart lies hidden in the boy, and [the degree of] success will then instruct us on the extent to which the opinion was justified. But when an amateurish painter and a bad poet console themselves that they are full of high ideals on the inside, that is a poor consolation, and if they make the demand to be judged not by their accomplishments but by their intentions, such pretension is rightly dismissed as empty and unjustified. Conversely, it is then also frequently the case that, in judging others who have brought about something right and respectable, people avail themselves of the false distinction of inner and outer in order to claim that what those others have brought about was merely external, while internally it is about something quite different for them, such as the satisfaction of their vanity or some other reprehensible passions. This is the sentiment of envy that, itself incapable of achieving greatness, strives to put down and belittle what is great. We should remember, by contrast, Goethe's beautiful saying that, in the face of the great superiorities of others, the only means of saving ourselves is love. If then, further, in an attempt to take away from others' praiseworthy accomplishments, there is talk of hypocrisy, it should be noted against this that while a human being in an individual instance can, of course, act a part and conceal a great deal, he cannot conceal his inner make-up altogether, which announces itself infallibly in the decursus vitae [the course of life], such that, in this connection, it must also be said that a human being is nothing other than the series of his actions. In particular, the so-called 'pragmatic' historiography, by fallaciously separating the inner from the outer, has sinned in the modern era in a variety of ways with respect to great historical characters, clouding and distorting an unadulterated construal of them. Instead of satisfying themselves with simply narrating the great deeds accomplished by world-historical heroes and recognizing their inner make-up as corresponding to the content of these deeds, they considered themselves justified and obligated to sniff out allegedly secret motives behind what lies out in the open and then thought that historical research is all the more profound, the more it succeeds in stripping away the aura of what, until then, was celebrated and praised, putting it down, as far as its origin and genuine meaning is concerned, to the level of common mediocrity. The study of psychology has then also frequently been recommended for the purposes of such pragmatic, historical research, since by means of it one allegedly acquires information about what the actual motives are by means of which human beings are determined to act at all. The psychology referred to here, meanwhile, is nothing other than that small-minded acquaintance with people, which principally considers merely the particularities and contingencies of individualized drives, passions, and so forth, rather than the universal and essential character of human nature. For this psychological-pragmatic procedure in relation to the motives underlying the great deeds, the choice would still remain for the historian between substantial interests of the fatherland, justice, religious truth, and so forth, on the one hand, and the subjective and formal interests of vanity, dominance, greed, and so forth, on the other hand. Yet, while this choice remains, the latter interests are regarded as the genuinely motivating ones, since otherwise, indeed, the presupposition of the opposition between the inner (the sentiment of the agent) and the outer (the content of the action) would not be confirmed. But, now, since inner and outer have the same content as far as the truth is concerned, then, over against that pedantic propriety, it must be explicitly maintained that, were it a matter merely of subjective and formal interests of the historical heroes, they would not have accomplished what they did and that, in view of the unity of inner and outer, it should be recognized that great men willed what they did and did what they willed.

 Addition. There is a tendency to oppose in a trivial manner actuality and thought, or, more precisely, the idea, and in keeping with this practice, one can frequently hear it said that while there is nothing objectionable in a certain thought as far as its rightness and truth are concerned, nothing of the sort is to be found or carried out in actuality. Those who speak in this way, however, prove thereby that they have not suitably grasped either the nature of thought or that of actuality. For, on the one hand, in such talk thought is assumed to mean the same as a subjective representation, plan, intention, and the like and, on the other hand, actuality is assumed to mean the same as the external concrete existence, available to the senses. Talk of this sort may be indulged in ordinary life where one does not take things so exactly when it comes to categories and their designation and, moreover, it may be the case that, for example, while the plan or the so-called 'idea' of a certain tax proposal is in itself quite good and appropriate, the same thing is neither to be found in the likewise so-called 'actuality' nor capable of being implemented under the circumstances at hand. But if the abstract understanding gets hold of these determinations and then intensifies the difference to the point of regarding it as a hard and fast opposition, such that in this actual world we have to put the ideas out of our heads, then in the name of science and sound reason we have to reject this sort of understanding in the most decisive terms. For, on the one hand, the ideas are not at all merely stuck in our heads and the idea is not at all something so impotent, the realization of which would have to be brought about or not at our whim. The idea is, instead, much more something that is unqualifiedly active and at the same time also actual. On the other hand, the actuality is not as bad and irrational as imagined by those of a practical bent who are thoughtless or whose thinking is decrepit and rundown. The actuality in contrast to the mere appearance, at first the unity of inner and outer, is so far from being something else opposite reason that it is far more the rational and, because of this, what is not rational should not be considered actual. There is an educated way of speaking, moreover, that corresponds to this conception of actuality, namely, insofar as one hesitates to recognize as an 'actual' poet or and 'actual' statesman a poet or statesman incapable of producing anything competent and rational. – The common conception of actuality discussed here and the confusion of it with the tangible and immediately perceivable is also the place to look for the ground of that widespread prejudice regarding the relationship of the Aristotelian to the Platonic philosophy. According to this prejudice, the difference between Plato and Aristotle is supposed to consist in the fact that, while the former recognizes the idea and only the idea as the true, the latter, dismissive of the idea, clings, by contrast, to the actual and is to be considered, for that reason, the founder and protagonist of empiricism. On this point, it must be noted that, while actuality indeed forms the principle of Aristotelian philosophy, it is nevertheless not the common actuality of what is immediately on hand, but instead the idea as actuality. Aristotle's polemic against Plato consists then, more precisely, in the fact that the Platonic idea is designated as mere dunamis and that Aristotle makes valid the notion, to the contrary, that the idea, recognized by both of them likewise as what is alone true, is to be considered essentially as energeia, i.e. as the inner [dimension] that is absolutely out there and thus as the unity of inner and outer or as the actuality in the emphatic sense of the word discussed here.

 Addition. To [the faculty of] representation, possibility appears prima facie to be the richer and more encompassing determination, and actuality, by contrast, to be the poorer and more restricted determination. It is accordingly said: everything is possible, but not everything that is possible is therefore also actual. But, actuality is in fact, i.e. in terms of the thought, the more encompassing since, as the concrete thought, it contains possibility as an abstract moment within itself. This can also be found in our ordinary consciousness when, in speaking of the possible in distinction from the actual, we designate it as something 'merely' possible. – It is usually said in general of the possible that it consists in the thinkability. What is understood by 'thinking' here, however, is only the process of grasping a content in the form of abstract identity. Now since every content can be put into this form (and that means merely that it is detached from its relations), even the most absurd and incongruous things can be considered possible. It is possible that this evening the Moon will fall to the Earth, since the Moon is a body separate from the Earth and, therefore, can fall down just as much as a stone thrown into the air can. It is possible that the Turkish Sultan becomes Pope since he is a human being and, as such, can convert, become a Catholic priest, and so on. In talking in this way of possibilities, it is above all the principle of sufficient reason [Denkgesetz vom Grunde] that is used in the manner discussed earlier, and in this connection it means that if a ground of something can be given, then it is possible. The more uneducated someone is, the less familiar he is with the specific relations between the objects to which he directs his attention and the more inclined he is to entertain all sorts of empty possibilities, as is the case, for example, among so-called 'pundits' in the political arena. Furthermore, it often happens in a practical context that an evil will and laziness are adept at hiding behind the category of possibility in order to escape specific obligations, and in this respect the same thing holds that was noted earlier about the use of the principle of sufficient reason. Rational, practical people do not allow themselves to be impressed by the possible just because it is possible. Instead they latch on to the actual, though what is then to be understood by the latter is, of course, not merely an immediate existent [das unmittelbar Daseiende]. In common life, moreover, there is no shortage of proverbs of all sorts that express the appropriate low assessment of abstract possibility. It is said, for example, 'a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.' – Yet, in addition, everything should be considered impossible by the same right that it is considered possible, especially to the extent that each content (which, as such, is always something concrete) contains in itself not only diverse, but also opposite determinations. Thus, for example, nothing is more impossible than the fact that I am, since the I is at once a simple relation to itself and relation to another through and through. The same is the case for every other content of the natural and spiritual world. One can say that matter is impossible, since it is the unity of repulsion and attraction. The same holds for life, right, freedom, and, above all, for God himself as the true, i.e. triune God, the concept of which the Enlightenment, in keeping with the principle of its abstract mode of understanding things, has repudiated as allegedly contradicting thought. It is generally the empty understanding that knocks around with these empty forms; and, in relation to them, the business of philosophy consists simply in pointing out their vapidness [Nichtigkeit] and lack of content. Whether something is possible or impossible depends upon the content, i.e. the totality of the moments of the actuality, which in the unfolding of those moments proves itself to be the necessity.

 Addition. The possibility, as the merely inner [dimension] of actuality, is precisely by this means also the merely external actuality or the contingency. The contingent is in general such as has the ground of its being not in itself but in another. This is the form [Gestalt] in which the actuality first presents itself to consciousness and which is frequently confused with actuality itself. The contingent, however, is merely the actual in the one-sided form of the reflection-into-another or the 'actual' with the meaning of something merely possible. We accordingly consider the contingent as something that can be or also not be, that can be so or also otherwise, and the ground of whose being or not-being, whose 'being so' or 'being otherwise' is not grounded in itself but in another instead. Now, overcoming the contingent, so construed, is generally the task of knowing [Erkennens], on the one hand, as much as in the domain of practice, on the other, it is a matter of not standing pat with the contingency of willing or arbitrary choice [Willkür]. Nonetheless, especially in the modern era, it has often happened that contingency has been elevated to an illegitimate level and accorded a value in relation to nature as well as the spiritual world that does not in fact suit it. As far as nature is at first concerned in this respect, it is not uncommon for contingency to be principally an object of wonder simply because of the riches and manifoldness of its formations. This richness as such, apart from the development of the idea at hand therein, presents no higher interest of reason and, in the great manifoldness of inorganic and organic formations, it affords us merely a look at the contingency as it peters out into indeterminacy. In any case, the colourful play of individual varieties of animals and plants, conditioned by external circumstances as it is, and the configuration and grouping of clouds and the like, alternating in manifold ways, are not to be esteemed higher than the equally contingent inspirations of a spirit giving itself up to its arbitrary whim. The wonder devoted to such a phenomenon is a very abstract way of behaving, from which it is necessary to take leave and move on to a deeper insight into the inner harmony and lawfulness of nature. – Of particular importance next is the proper evaluation of contingency in relation to the will. In talk of freedom of the will, what is frequently understood by it is merely the arbitrary choice, i.e. the will in the form of contingency. Now, to be sure, arbitrary choice as the capacity to determine oneself to this or that, is an essential moment of the free will in keeping with its concept. Nevertheless, it is in no way freedom itself but rather first merely formal freedom. The truly free will contains in itself arbitrary choice as sublated and is conscious of its content as a content firm in and for itself and knows [weiß] the same at the same time as its own without qualification. By contrast, the will that stands pat at the level of arbitrary choice, even if it makes the true and right decision with respect to the content, still remains beset with the vanity of presuming that, were it to its liking, it would have been able to make a different decision. Under closer examination, moreover, arbitrary choice proves to be contradictory insofar as form and content still stand opposite one another here. The content of arbitrary choice is a given content and known [gewußt] to be a content grounded [begründet], not in the will itself, but in external circumstances. Hence, in relation to such content, freedom consists merely in the form of choosing, a formal freedom that is then to be considered a merely alleged freedom insofar as, in the final analysis, it turns out that the fact that the will decides exactly for this and not for that must be ascribed to the same external circumstances in which the content found by the will as already given is grounded.
Now, although contingency, as a consequence of what has been discussed up to this point, is only a one-sided moment of actuality and therefore not to be confused with the latter itself, contingency is still to be accorded its due even in the objective [gegenständlich] world, since it is a form of the idea in general. This holds first for nature on the surface of which contingency has, so to speak, its free sway which should also be recognized then as such, without the pretension (at times erroneously ascribed to philosophy) of intending to find in it an instance of being able to be only so and not otherwise. In a similar way, the contingent asserts itself in the spiritual world as well, such as was already noted previously with respect to the will that contains in itself what is contingent in the form of arbitrary choice, albeit only as a sublated moment. Even in relation to the spirit and its activity, one has to guard against letting the well-intentioned endeavour of rational knowledge mislead one into purporting to demonstrate to be necessary or, as one is accustomed to say, to construe as a priori, appearances that possess the character of contingency. Thus, for example, in language, although it is as it were the body of thinking, chance undoubtedly also still plays its decisive role and something similar is the case with the formations of right, art, and so forth. It is quite right that the task of science and, more precisely of philosophy in general, consists in knowing the necessity hidden beneath the semblance of contingency. Yet this should not be so understood as if the contingent pertained merely to our subjective representation and that, therefore, it must be completely set aside in order to arrive at the truth. Scientific endeavours that single-mindedly pursue this direction will not escape from the fair-minded reproach of vacuously playing around and being obstinately pedantic.

 Addition. The contingent, as the immediate actuality, is at the same time the possibility of something else [eines Anderen], yet no longer merely that abstract possibility that we had at first, but instead the possibility as being [seiend] and, hence, it is a condition. If we speak of the condition of a basic matter, there lie therein the following two aspects: first, an existence [ein Dasein], a concrete existence [eine Existenz], in general something immediate, and, second, the determination of this immediate something to be sublated and to serve for the actualization of something else. – Now, in general, the immediate actuality as such is not what it is supposed to be but instead a finite actuality, broken in itself, and it is its determination to be used up [verzehrt]. However, the other side of the actuality is its essentiality. This is at first the inner [dimension] that, as mere possibility, is equally determined to be sublated. As sublated possibility, it is the emerging of a new actuality that the first, immediate actuality had as its presupposition. This is the alternation that the concept of 'condition' contains in itself. If we consider the conditions of a subject matter, then these appear as something completely innocent. In fact, however, such immediate actuality contains in itself the seed of something completely other than it. This other is at first only something possible, the form of which then sublates itself and transposes itself into actuality. This new actuality which thus emerges is the immediate actuality's own inner side that the new actuality uses up. A completely different shape of things thus comes to be and there also comes to be nothing different; for the first actuality is only posited in terms of its essence. The conditions that sacrifice themselves up, perish, and are used up, only join up with themselves in the other actuality. – Now, the process of actuality in general is of such nature. This is not merely some immediate being [ein unmittelbar Seiendes], but instead as the essential being it is the sublation of its own immediacy and, by this means, mediating itself with itself.

 Addition. If it is said of something that it is necessary, we first ask 'why?' Hence, the necessary is supposed to prove itself as something posited, something mediated. If, however, we do not move beyond the mere mediation, then we still do not have what is understood by 'necessity'. What is merely mediated is what it is, not by means of itself, but by means of an other and, hence, it is also merely something contingent. We demand of the necessary, by contrast, that it be what it is by means of itself and thus mediated, to be sure, yet at the same time containing in itself the mediation as sublated. Of the necessary we accordingly say: 'It is' and accordingly for us it has the value of a simple relation to itself, in which the sense of being conditioned by another falls away. – It is customarily said of necessity that it is blind and, to be sure, this is right insofar as, in the process that necessity is, the purpose is not yet on hand as such for itself. The process of necessity begins with the concrete existence of scattered circumstances that seem to have nothing to do with one another and to have no connection between them. These circumstances are an immediate actuality which collapses into itself and a new actuality emerges from this negation. We have here a content that is twofold, as far as its form is concerned. First, it is content of the basic matter at issue and, second, it is content of the scattered circumstances that appear as something positive and initially assert themselves in this way. This content, as a 'nothing' [Nichtiges] in itself, is accordingly inverted into its negative and thus becomes content of the basic matter. The immediate circumstances go under [zugrunde gehen] as conditions, but at the same time are also preserved as content of the basic matter. It is then said that something completely different emerged from such circumstances and conditions and, for this reason, the necessity of this process is called blind. If, by contrast, we consider purposive activity, then we have here, in the purpose, a content that is already known [gewußt] in advance and this activity is therefore not blind but instead sees [sehend]. When we say that the world is governed by providence, we are saying that the purpose in general is what effects things, doing so as something determinate in and for itself in advance, so that what comes about corresponds to what was known and intended in advance. Incidentally, one must not consider the construal of the world as determined by necessity and the belief in a divine providence as in any way mutually exclusive. What underlies the thought of divine providence will turn out for us subsequently to be the concept. This is the truth of necessity and contains the latter as sublated in itself just as, conversely, necessity in itself is the concept. Necessity is blind only insofar as it is not comprehended and there is, therefore, nothing more wrong than the reproach of a blind fatalism, a charge made against the philosophy of history, because it regards its task to be the knowledge of the necessity of what has happened. The philosophy of history acquires thereby the meaning of a theodicy, and, while there are those who believe themselves to be honouring the divine providence by excluding necessity from it, by this abstraction they in fact degrade it to a blind, arbitrary choice, devoid of reason. The innocent religious conciousness speaks of God's eternal and inviolable decrees and therein lies the explicit recognition of necessity as belonging to God's essence. In contrast to God, and given their particular opining and willing, human beings act according to mood and arbitrary choice and thus it happens to them that, in their actions, what comes about is something completely different from what they intended and wanted. By contrast, God knows [weiß] what he wants and, in his eternal will, he is not determined by inner or outer chance, instead bringing about, without resistance, what he wants. – The standpoint of necessity is generally of great importance in relation to our attitude [Gesinnung] and our comportment. Since we regard what occurs as necessary, then this seems at first glance to be a completely unfree relationship. The ancients, as is well known, construed necessity as fate and the modern standpoint is, by contrast, the standpoint of consolation. This consists generally in the fact that, while we give up our purposes, our interests, we do so with the prospect of acquiring a substitute for them. Fate, by contrast, is without consolation. If, now, we consider the ancients' attitude to fate more closely, then it nonetheless affords us in no way the intuition of unfreedom, but instead much more that of freedom. This lies in the fact that the lack of freedom is grounded in clinging to an opposition of the sort that we regard what is and happens as standing in contradicition to what should be and happen. In the attitude of the ancients, by contrast, it was implied that because something is the way it is, it is, and the way it is, is the way it ought to be. Here, therefore, no opposition is at hand and, with it, also no lack of freedom, no pain, and no suffering. Now, as previously noted, this comportment towards fate is, to be sure, without consolation, but such an attitude is also not in need of consolation and, indeed, because subjectivity here has still not reached its infinite meaning. It is this viewpoint that must be seen as the decisive one in the comparison of the ancient and our modern, Christian attitude. If, by subjectivity, one understands merely the finite, immediate subjectivity with the contingent and arbitrary content of its particular inclinations and interests, in general what one calls the 'person' in contrast to 'basic matter' in the emphatic sense of the word (in which sense one would say – and, to be sure, correctly – that something depends upon the basic matter and not on the person), then one cannot help but wonder at the ancients' serene surrender to fate and recognize this attitude as the higher and more dignified one than that modern attitude that selfishly pursues its subjective purposes and, if it sees itself necessitated to renounce the attainment of them, consoles itself merely with the prospect of acquiring a substitute in another form. Furthermore, however, the subjectivity is not merely the bad and finite subjectivity, standing opposite the basic matter; instead it is, in keeping with its truth, immanent to the basic matter and, accordingly as infinite subjectivity, is the truth of the basic matter itself. So construed, then, the standpoint of consolation acquires a completely different and higher meaning and it is in this sense that the Christian religion is to be regarded as the religion of consolation and, indeed, of absolute consolation. Christendom contains, as is well known, the doctrine that God wants all human beings to be helped and this is a way of articulating that subjectivity has an infinite value. More precisely, the consoling quality of the Christian religion lies in the fact that, because God himself is known [gewußt] here as the absolute subjectivity, and subjectivity contains in itself the aspect of particularity, our particularity is also by this means recognized, not merely as something that is to be abstractly denied, but at the same time as something to be preserved. The ancients' gods were, to be sure, likewise recognized as personal; the personality of a Zeus, an Apollo, and so forth is, however, not an actual, but an imagined personality or, to put it differently, these gods are mere personifications that, as such, do not know [wissen] themselves but are only known [gewußt]. We also find this deficiency and impotence of the ancient gods in the ancients' religious consciousness, insofar as they regarded not only human beings but even gods themselves as subject to fate (the pepromenon or the heimarmene), a fate which one has to imagine as the undisclosed [unenthüllte] necessity and thus as utterly impersonal, devoid of self, and blind. In contrast to this, the Christian God is the God not merely known [gewußt] but the unqualifiedly self-knowing [sich wissende] God, and not merely imagined but instead an absolutely actual personality. – For further elaboration of the points touched on here, reference should be made to the philosophy of religion. Nevertheless, note can still be taken here of how important it is that the human being construe what befalls him in the light of that ancient proverb which says that everyone is the architect of his own fortune. Herein lies the fact that the human being in general is given only himself to enjoy. The opposite view is that we shove the blame for what befalls us onto other human beings, onto unfavourable circumstances, and the like. This, then, is again the standpoint of unfreedom and at the same time the source of dissatisfaction. Insofar as a human being recognizes, to the contrary, that what he experiences is merely an evolution of himself and that he bears only his own guilt, he behaves as someone free, and in everything that confronts him he has the belief that no injustice is done to him. Someone who lives in dissatisfaction with himself and his lot [Geschick] does much that is wrong and twisted precisely because he is of the false opinon that others are doing him an injustice. Now, to be sure, in what happens to us, there is much that is contingent, too. This contingent element, however, is grounded in the naturalness of the human being. However, insofar as in another respect the human being has the consciousness of his freedom, the unpleasant things that confront him will not destroy the harmony of his soul, the peace of his mind. It is, therefore, the view of necessity through which the satisfaction and the dissatisfaction of human beings and thereby their fate itself are determined.

 Addition. In the history of philosophy, we encounter substance as the principle of the Spinozistic philosophy. Since the time of Spinoza there has been a great deal of misunderstanding and much talk back and forth about the meaning and value of this philosophy, which is equally acclaimed and defamed. It is customary to reproach the Spinozistic system above all for being atheistic and then for being pantheistic, and to make these charges because God is construed as substance and only as substance in this system. What one should think of these reproaches immediately follows from the place occupied by the substance in the system of the logical idea. The substance is an essential stage in the process of the development of the idea. Nevertheless, it is not this idea itself, not the absolute idea, but instead the idea in the still limited form of necessity. Now, to be sure, God is the necessity or, as one can also say, God is the absolute basic matter [absolute Sache], but also at the same time the absolute person, and this is the point not reached by Spinoza. In this connection, it must be admitted that the Spinozistic philosophy lagged behind the true concept of God, which forms the content of Christian consciousness. Spinoza was a Jew by descent and what found expression in the form of thought in his philosophy is in general the oriental intuition according to which everything finite appears merely as something transient, as something vanishing. Now, this oriental intuition forms, to be sure, the foundation of all true further development, but it is not possible to stand pat with it. What is missing in it is the Western principle of individuality, a principle that first took shape in philosophy at the same time as Spinozism in the Leibnizian monadology. – If we look back from this vantage point at the reproach of atheism, directed at Spinoza's philosophy, then it will have to be dismissed out of hand as unjustified insofar as, according to this philosophy, God is not only not denied but instead recognized as the only true being [der allein wahrhaft Seiende]. It will also not be possible to maintain that, while Spinoza may speak, to be sure, of God as the only truth, this Spinozistic God is not the true God and therefore as good as no God. With the same right, all the other philosophers who in their philosophizing did not move beyond some subordinate level of the idea would have to be blamed for being atheistic. That would include not only Jews and Moslems because they know [wissen] God merely as the Lord, but also all the many Christians who regard God merely as the unknowable, supreme, and other-worldly being. On closer examination, the reproach of atheism, directed at the Spinozistic philosophy, reduces to this, that in it the principle of difference [Differenz] or finitude does not attain the legitimacy befitting it. As a result, this system would have to be designated not an 'atheism' but instead the reverse, an 'acosmism', since according to this philosophy there is actually no world at all in the sense of something positively being [eines positiv Seienden]. What one should think of the reproach of pantheism follows from this then as well. If, as is often the case, one understands by 'pantheism' a doctrine that considers finite things as such and the complex of them to be God, then one cannot help but acquit the Spinozistic philosophy of the reproach of pantheism since absolutely no truth at all accrues to finite things or the world according to the Spinozistic philosophy. To the contrary, this philosophy is, indeed, pantheistic precisely on account of its acosmism. The deficiency that has been recognized here with regard to the content proves to be a deficiency at the same time with regard to the form as well. This is apparent first insofar as Spinoza places substance at the pinnacle of his system and defines it as the unity of thinking and extension, without demonstrating how he arrives at this difference and at its reduction to the substantial unity. The further treatment of the content then follows in the so-called 'mathematical method' and, in keeping with this, definitions and axioms are immediately set up, followed by a series of principles, the proof of which consists merely in a reduction to those unproven presuppositions, a reduction befitting the understanding. Although it is customary, even for those who utterly reject the content and results of the Spinozistic philosophy, to applaud it on account of the rigorous consistency of its method, this unconditioned recognition of the form is, nonetheless, as unjustified as the unconditioned rejection of the content. The deficiency of the Spinozistic content consists precisely in the fact that the form is not recognized as immanent to the content and, for that reason, it is only as external, subjective form that it comes to the content. Substance, just as it is immediately construed by Spinoza without the prior dialectical mediation, is, as the universal negative power, only this dark, shapeless abyss, as it were, that swallows up into itself every determinate content as vacuous [nichtig] from the outset and produces nothing that has a positive standing [Bestand] in itself.

 Addition. To the same degree that the understanding is accustomed to resisting [the idea of] substantiality, it is, by contrast, at home with causality, i.e. the relationship of cause and effect. If construing a content in a necessary fashion is what matters, then reflection at the level of the understanding makes it its business to reduce that content to the relationship of causality above all. Now this relationship, to be sure, pertains to necessity, but it is only the one side in the process of necessity which is just as much this, to sublate the mediation contained in causality and demonstrate itself to be a simple relation-to-itself. If one does not move beyond causality as such, then one does not have it as it truly is, but instead as a finite causality, and the finitude of this relation then consists in the fact that cause and effect are firmly maintained in their difference. Yet these two are not only distinct, but also just as much identical, something that can also be met with in our ordinary consciousness when we say of a cause that it is this only insofar as it has an effect and of an effect that it is this effect only insofar as it has a cause. Both cause and effect are thus one and the same content, and the difference between them is immediately only that of positing and being posited, a formal difference that, however, then equally sublates itself in turn in such a way that the cause is not only cause of something else but also cause of itself and the effect is not only effect of something else but also the effect of itself. The finitude of things accordingly consists in the fact that, while cause and effect are identical in terms of their concept, these two forms occur in separation in such a way that the cause is, to be sure, also effect and the effect is, to be sure, also cause, yet the former not in the same relation in which it is cause and the latter not in the same relation in which it is effect. This yields then in turn the infinite progression in the shape of an endless series of causes that shows itself at the same time to be an endless series of effects.

 Addition. Reciprocity is the relationship of causality, posited in its complete development, and it is also this relationship in which reflection customarily takes refuge, if the consideration of things from the standpoint of causality proves to be inadequate on account of the previously mentioned infinite regress. Thus, for example, in historical considerations the question first negotiated is whether the character and customs of a people are the cause of its constitution and laws or whether the former are the effect of the latter. There is then a progression to the point of construing both of them, character and customs, on the one side, and constitution and laws, on the other, from the viewpoint of reciprocity in such a way that the cause, in the same relation in which it is cause, is at the same time effect and that the effect, in the same relation in which it is effect, is at the same time cause. The same thing happens also in the consideration of nature and particularly of a living organism, the individual organs and functions of which likewise prove to be reciprocally related to one another. Reciprocity is, to be sure, the proximate truth about the relationship of cause and effect and it stands, so to speak, on the threshold of the concept. Nevertheless, precisely for this reason, one should not be satisfied with the application of this relationship, insofar as what matters is to know conceptually. If one does not move beyond considering a given content merely from the viewpoint of reciprocity, this is in fact an utterly conceptless way of behaving. One is then dealing merely with a dry fact and the requirement of mediation (what is prima facie at stake in the application of the relationship of causality) still remains unsatisfied. If it is considered more precisely, what is unsatisfactory in the application of the relationship of reciprocity consists in the fact that this relationship, instead of being able to hold as an equivalent of the concept, first needs to be comprehended itself, and this happens, not by leaving the two sides of it as something immediately given, but instead (as was shown in the two previous sections) by coming to know them as moments of a third, higher [dimension], which is precisely the concept. If we consider, for example, the customs of the Spartan people as the effect of its constitution and then, vice versa, this as the effect of its customs, this consideration may for all that be correct; but this construal, for this reason, does not provide any ultimate satisfaction, since by this means neither the constitution nor the customs of this people are in fact comprehended. That happens only by virtue of the fact that those two sides, and equally all the remaining particular sides revealed by the life and history of the Spartan people, are known to be grounded [begründet] in this concept.

 Addition. Necessity tends to be called 'hard' and rightly so insofar as there is no movement beyond it as such, i.e. in its immediate shape. We have here a status or in general a content that subsists for itself, and necessity then entails prima facie that something else affects such content, destroying it. This is what is hard and sad about immediate or abstract identity. The identity of both, which appear bound to one another in necessity, losing their self-sufficiency in the process, is at first only an inner identity and is not yet at hand for those that are subjected to the necessity. So, too, from this standpoint, freedom is first merely the abstract freedom that is only saved through renunciation of what one immediately is and has. – Furthermore, however, as we have seen up to this point, the process of necessity is of the sort that through it the rigid externality initially on hand is overcome and its inner dimension revealed. By this means, it then becomes apparent that the two sides bound to one another are in fact not alien to one another but instead only moments of one whole, each of which, in its relation to the other, is with itself and comes together with itself. This is the transfiguration of necessity into freedom, and this freedom is not merely the freedom of abstract negation but instead a concrete and positive freedom. From this then it should also be gathered how wrong it is to consider freedom and necessity mutually exclusive of one another. Although, to be sure, necessity as such is not yet freedom, freedom presupposes necessity and contains in itself the latter as sublated. An ethical human being is conscious that the content of his action is something necessary, something valid in and for itself, and so little does he suffer a breach of his freedom on that account that it is through this consciousness that such freedom first becomes freedom that is actual and replete with content, distinct from arbitrary choice as the freedom still devoid of content and merely possible. A criminal who is being punished may regard the punishment meted out to him as a limitation of his freedom. Nevertheless, the punishment is in fact not an alien force to which he is subjected but only the manifestation of his own action and insofar as he recognizes this, he behaves as someone who is free. This is, in general, a human being's supreme self-sufficiency, to know [wissen] himself as unqualifiedly determined by the absolute idea, a consciousness and comportment that Spinoza designated as amor intellectualis Dei [intellectual love of God].

 Addition. If, as has happened here, the concept is designated the truth of being and essence, then one must expect the question why this study did not begin with it. What serves as an answer to this is the fact that, where it is a matter of knowing through thinking, it is not possible to begin with the truth, because the truth, insofar as it forms the beginning, rests on a mere assurance while the truth that is thought has to verify itself, as such, to thinking. If the concept were placed at the pinnacle of logic and defined as the unity of being and essence (as is completely correct in terms of the content), the question would then arise what one is supposed to think by 'being' and by 'essence' and how both of these come to be brought together into the unity of the concept. In this way, one would have started with the concept in name only and not as the basic matter. The genuine beginning would be made with being, such as also happened here, only with the difference that the determinations of being and, similarly, those of essence would have to be taken up immediately from the representation. In contrast, we have considered being and essence in their own dialectical development and come to know them as sublating themselves towards the unity of the concept.