Section 2

2 The science of right is a part of philosophy. It must therefore develop the Idea, which is the reason of a subject matter, from the concept—or, what is the same thing, attend to the matter’s own immanent development. As a part, it has a determinate starting point, which is the result and the truth of what precedes it, and which constitutes its so-called proof. The concept of right therefore falls, in its coming to be, outside the science of right; its deduction is presupposed here, and it is to be received as given.

According to the formal, nonphilosophical method of the sciences, the definition is first sought and demanded, at least for the sake of outward scientific form. The positive science of law, however, need not be greatly concerned with this, since it chiefly aims to state what is legally right—that is, what the particular statutory determinations are. Hence the warning: every definition in civil law is dangerous. Indeed, the more disconnected and internally contradictory the determinations of a legal system are, the less are definitions possible within it; for definitions are supposed to contain universal determinations, and these immediately expose the contradiction—here, what is contrary to right—in all its nakedness. Thus, for example, no definition of the human being would be possible in Roman law, since the slave could not be subsumed under it; rather, that concept is violated in the slave’s status. A definition of property and proprietor would prove equally dangerous for many legal relations.—The deduction of the definition is drawn, perhaps, from etymology, but chiefly by abstracting it from particular cases and taking human feeling and representation as its basis. The correctness of the definition is then made to consist in agreement with existing representations. This method sets aside what alone is scientifically essential: with respect to content, the necessity of the matter in and for itself—here, of right—and with respect to form, the nature of the concept. In philosophical cognition, by contrast, the necessity of a concept is the chief concern, and the course by which it has come to be as a result is its proof and deduction. Once its content is thus necessary in itself, the second task is to look for what corresponds to it in representations and in language. But how this concept is in itself, in its truth, and how it is in representation can not only differ: in form and configuration they must differ. If, however, the representation is not also false in content, the concept may indeed be shown to be contained in it and, in its essence, present within it; that is, the representation may be raised to the form of the concept. Yet it is so far from being the measure and criterion of the concept necessary and true in itself that it must instead take its truth from the concept, and through it correct and know itself.—But although that manner of knowing, with its formalities of definitions, inferences, proofs, and the like, has more or less disappeared on one side, it has received a poor substitute in another manner: immediately seizing and asserting Ideas in general, including that of right and its further determinations, as facts of consciousness, and making natural or intensified feeling, one’s own heart, and enthusiasm the source of right. If this method is the most convenient of all, it is also the most unphilosophical—not to mention here other aspects of such a view, which bears not merely on cognition but directly on action. Whereas the first, admittedly formal method still demands the form of the concept in the definition, and in proof the form of a necessity of cognition, the manner of immediate consciousness and feeling makes the subjectivity, contingency, and arbitrary choice of knowing its principle.—What constitutes the scientific procedure of philosophy must here be presupposed from philosophical logic.

2 The science of right is a part of philosophy. It must therefore develop the Idea—the rational nature of its subject matter—from the concept. Or, to put the same thing another way, it must follow the subject matter's own development from within. As a part, it has a definite starting point. This is the result and truth of what comes before, which constitutes its so-called proof. So the concept of right, in terms of its coming into being, falls outside the science of right. Its derivation is assumed here, and it must be accepted as given.

The formal, nonphilosophical method of the sciences first seeks and demands a definition, if only for the sake of an outward scientific form. For the study of enacted law, this cannot be the main concern either. Its main aim is to state what the law is, meaning what the particular legal provisions are. This is why the warning was given: every definition in civil law is dangerous. Indeed, the more disconnected and internally contradictory the provisions of a legal system are, the less it is possible to give definitions within it. Definitions are meant to contain universal determinations. But these immediately expose the contradiction—in this case, the wrong—in its nakedness. For example, Roman law could not have a definition of a human being, because a slave could not be included under it. Rather, that concept is violated in the slave's condition. Definitions of property and of an owner would be equally dangerous for many relationships.—The definition is then derived, perhaps, from etymology, but chiefly by abstracting from particular cases, with people's feelings and representations taken as the basis. A definition is judged correct if it agrees with existing representations. This method sets aside the only things essential to science: in content, the necessity of the matter in and for itself—here, of right—and in form, the nature of the concept. In philosophical knowledge, by contrast, a concept's necessity is what matters most. The course by which it has come to be a result is its proof and derivation. Since its content is necessary in itself, the second task is to look for what corresponds to it in people's representations and in language. But the concept as it is in its truth, in itself, and as it is in representation may not only differ: in form and shape, they must differ. Yet if a representation is not also false in content, the concept can be shown to be contained and essentially present within it. In other words, the representation can be raised to the form of the concept. Far from being the standard and criterion of the concept that is necessary and true in itself, representation must take its truth from the concept, correct itself by it, and come to know itself through it.—But although that way of knowing, with its formal procedures of definitions, inferences, proofs, and the like, has more or less disappeared, the method that has replaced it is a poor substitute. It immediately takes up Ideas in general, including the Idea of right and its further determinations, and asserts them as facts of consciousness. It makes natural feeling, or an intensified feeling, one's own heart, and enthusiasm the source of right. This method may be the most convenient of all, but it is also the least philosophical. I will not mention here the other aspects of an outlook of this kind, which concerns not only knowing but directly acting as well. The first method, though formal, still demands the form of the concept in a definition. In a proof, it demands that knowing have the form of necessity. The method of immediate consciousness and feeling, however, makes the subjectivity, contingency, and arbitrariness of knowing its principle.—What philosophy's scientific procedure consists in must be assumed here from philosophical logic.