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Will and
Idea
by Arthur Schopenhauer
"The world is my idea:" -- this is a truth which
holds good for everything that lives and knows,
though man alone can bring it into reflective and
abstract consciousness: If he really does this, he
has attained to philosophical wisdom. It then
becomes clear and certain to him that what he knows
is not a sun and an earth, but only an eye that
sees a sun, a hand that feels the earth; that the
world which surrounds him is there only as idea,
i.e., only in relation to something else, the
consciousness, which is himself. If any truth can
be asserted a priori, it is this: for it is
the expression of the most general form of all
possible and thinkable experience: a form which is
more general than time, or space, or causality, for
they all presuppose it; and each of these, which we
have seen to be just so many modes of the principle
of sufficient reason, is valid only for a
particular class of ideas; whereas the antithesis
of object and subject is the common form of all
these classes, is that form under which alone any
idea of whatever kind it may be, abstract or
intuitive, pure or empirical, is possible and
thinkable. No truth therefore is more certain, more
independent of all others, and less in need of
proof than this, that all that exists for knowledge
and therefore this whole world, is only object in
relation to subject, perception of a perceiver, in
a word, idea. This is obviously true of the past
and the future, as well as of the present, of what
is furthest off, as of what is near; for it is true
of time and space themselves, in which alone these
distinctions arise. All that in any way belongs or
can belong to the world is inevitably thus
conditioned through the subject, and exists only
for the subject. The world is idea.
***
This world in which we live and have our being
is in its whole nature through and through
will, and at the same time through and
through idea; that this idea, as such,
already presupposes a form, object and subject, is
therefore relative; and if we ask what remains if
we take away this form and all those forms which
are subordinate to it, and which express the
principle of sufficient reason, the answer must be
that as something toto genere different from
idea, this can be nothing but will, which is
thus properly the thing-in-itself. Every one
finds that he himself is this will, in which the
real nature of the world consists, and he also
finds that he is the knowing subject, whose idea
the whole world is, the world which exists only in
relation to his consciousness, as its necessary
supporter. Every one is thus himself in a double
aspect the whole world, the microcosm; finds both
sides whole and complete in himself. And what he
thus recognizes as his own real being also exhausts
the being of the whole world -- the macrocosm; thus
the world, like man, is through and through
will, and through and through idea,
and nothing more than this. So we see the
philosophy of Thales, which concerned the
macrocosm, unite at this point with the philosophy
of Socrates, which dealt with the microcosm, for
the object of both is found to be the same.
One question may be more particularly
considered, for it can only properly arise so long
as one has not fully penetrated the meaning of the
foregoing exposition, and may so far serve as an
illustration of it. It is this: Every will is a
will towards something, has an object, and end of
its willing; what then is the final end, or towards
what is that will striving that is exhibited to us
as the being-in-itself of the world? This question
rests, like so many others, upon the confusion of
the thing-in-itself with the manifestation. The
principle of sufficient reason, of which the law of
motivation is also a form, extends only to the
latter, not to the former. It is only of phenomena,
of individual things, that a ground can be given,
never of the will itself, nor of the idea in which
it adequately objectifies itself. So then of every
particular movement or change of any kind in
nature, a cause is to be sought, that is, a
condition that of necessity produced it, but never
of the natural force itself which is revealed in
this and innumerable similar phenomena; and it is
therefore simple misunderstanding, arising from
want of consideration, to ask for a cause of
gravity, electricity, and so on. Only if one had
somehow shown that gravity and electricity were not
original special forces of nature, but only the
manifestations of a more general force already
known, would it be allowable to ask for the cause
which made this force produce the phenomena of
gravity or of electricity here. All this has been
explained at length above. In the same way every
particular act of will of a knowing individual
(which is itself only a manifestation of will as
the thing-in-itself) has necessarily a motive
without which that act would never have occurred;
but just as material causes contain merely the
determination that at this time, in this place, and
in this manner, a manifestation of this or that
natural force must take place, so the motive
determines only the act of will of a knowing being,
at this time, in this place, and under these
circumstances, as a particular act, but by no means
determines that that being wills in general or
wills in this manner; this is the expression of his
intelligible character, which, as will itself, the
thing-in-itself, is without ground, for it lies
outside the province of the principle of sufficient
reason. Therefore every man has permanent aims and
motives by which he guides his conduct, and he can
always give an account of his particular actions;
but if he were asked why he wills at all, or why in
general he wills to exist, he would have no answer,
and the question would indeed seem to him
meaningless; and this would be just the expression
of his consciousness that he himself is nothing but
will, whose willing stands by itself and requires
more particular determination by motives only in
its individual acts at each point of time.
In fact, freedom from all aim, from all limits,
belongs to the nature of the will, which is an
endless striving. This was already touched on above
in the reference to centrifugal force. It also
discloses itself in its simplest form in the lowest
grade of the objectification of will, in
gravitation, which we see constantly exerting
itself, though a final goal is obviously impossible
for it. For if, according to its will, all existing
matter were collected in one mass, yet within this
mass gravity, ever striving towards the center,
would still wage war with impenetrability as
rigidity or elasticity. The tendency of matter can
therefore only be confined, never completed or
appeased. But this is precisely the case with all
tendencies of all phenomena of will. Every attained
end is also the beginning of a new course, and so
on ad infinitum. The plant raises its
manifestation from the seed through the stem and
the leaf to the blossom and the fruit, which again
is the beginning of a new seed, a new individual,
that runs through the old course, and so on through
endless time. Such also is the life of the animal;
procreation is its highest point, and after
attaining to it, the life of the first individual
quickly or slowly sinks, while a new life insures
to nature the endurance of the species, and repeats
the same phenomena. Indeed, the constant renewal of
the matter of every organism is also to be regarded
as merely the manifestation of this continual
pressure and change, and physiologists are now
ceasing to hold that it is the necessary reparation
of the matter wasted in motion for the possible
wearing out of the machine can by no means be
equivalent to the support it is constantly
receiving through nourishment. Eternal becoming,
endless flux, characterizes the revelation of the
inner nature of will. Finally, the same thing shows
itself in human endeavors and desires, which always
delude us by presenting their satisfaction as the
final end of will. As soon as we attain to them
they no longer appear the same, and therefore they
soon grow stale, are forgotten, and though not
openly disowned, are yet always thrown aside as
vanished illusions. We are fortunate enough if
there still remains something to wish for and to
strive after, that the game may be kept up of
constant transition from desire to satisfaction,
and from satisfaction to a new desire, the rapid
course of which is called happiness, and the slow
course sorrow, and does not sink into that
stagnation that shows itself in fearful
ennui that paralyzes life, vain yearning
without a definite object, deadening languor.
According to all this, when the will is enlightened
by knowledge, it always knows what it wills now and
here, never what it wills in general; every
particular act of will has its end, the whole will
has none; just as every particular phenomenon of
nature is determined by a sufficient cause so far
as concerns its appearance in this place at this
time, but the force which manifests itself in it
has no general cause, for it belongs to the
thing-in-itself, to the groundless will. The single
example of self-knowledge of the will as a whole is
the idea as a whole, the whole world of perception.
It is the objectification, the revelation, the
mirror of the will.
Excerpted from The World as
Will and Idea, by Arthur
Schopenhauer
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The
World As Will and
Idea,
by
Arthur Schopenhauer
The
World As Will
and
Representation (Volume
1),
by
Arthur Schopenhauer
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