Appendix, 1
Original German
Anhang, zur Ergänzung des ersten Abschnittes.
Infolge der gleich anfangs aufgestellten Einteilung der Freiheit in physische, intellektuelle und moralische, habe ich, nachdem die erstere und letztere abgehandelt sind, jetzt noch die zweite zu erörtern, welches bloß der Vollständigkeit wegen und daher in der Kürze geschehen soll.
Der Intellekt, oder das Erkenntnisvermögen, ist das Medium der Motive, durch welches nämlich hindurch sie auf den Willen, welcher der eigentliche Kern des Menschen ist, wirken. Nur sofern dieses Medium der Motive sich in einem normalen Zustande befindet, seine Funktionen regelrecht vollzieht und daher die Motive unverfälscht, wie sie in der realen Außenwelt vorliegen, dem Willen zur Wahl darstellt, kann dieser sich seiner Natur, d. h. dem individuellen Charakter des Menschen gemäß, entscheiden, also ungehindert, nach seinem selbsteigenen Wesen sich äußern: dann ist der Mensch intellektuell frei, d. h. seine Handlungen sind das reine Resultat der Reaktion seines Willens auf Motive, die in der Außenwelt ihm ebenso wie allen andern vorliegen. Demzufolge sind sie ihm alsdann moralisch und auch juridisch zuzurechnen.
Diese intellektuelle Freiheit wird aufgehoben entweder dadurch, daß das Medium der Motive, das Erkenntnisvermögen, auf die Dauer oder nur vorübergehend, zerrüttet ist, oder dadurch, daß äußere Umstände, im einzelnen Fall, die Auffassung der Motive verfälschen. Ersteres ist der Fall im Wahnsinn, Delirium, Paroxysmus und Schlaftrunkenheit; letzteres bei einem entschiedenen und unverschuldeten Irrtum, z. B. wenn man Gift statt Arznei eingießt, oder den nächtlich eintretenden Diener für einen Räuber hält und erschießt, u. dgl. m. Denn in beiden Fällen sind die Motive verfälscht, weshalb der Wille sich nicht so entscheiden kann, wie er unter den vorliegenden Umständen es würde, wenn der Intellekt sie ihm richtig überlieferte. Die unter solchen Umständen begangenen Verbrechen sind daher auch nicht gesetzlich strafbar. Denn die Gesetze gehen aus von der richtigen Voraussetzung, daß der Wille nicht moralisch frei sei, in welchem Fall man ihn nicht lenken könnte; sondern daß er der Nötigung durch Motive unterworfen sei: demgemäß wollen sie allen etwanigen Motiven zu Verbrechen stärkere Gegenmotive, in den angedrohten Strafen, entgegenstellen, und ein Kriminalkodex ist nichts anderes, als ein Verzeichnis von Gegenmotiven zu verbrecherischen Handlungen. Ergibt sich aber, daß der Intellekt, durch den diese Gegenmotive zu wirken hatten, unfähig war, sie aufzunehmen und dem Willen vorzuhalten; so war ihre Wirkung unmöglich: sie waren für ihn nicht vorhanden. Es ist wie wenn man findet, daß einer der Fäden, die eine Maschine zu bewegen hatten, gerissen sei. Die Schuld geht daher in solchem Fall vom Willen auf den Intellekt über: dieser aber ist keiner Strafe unterworfen; sondern mit dem Willen allein haben es die Gesetze, wie die Moral, zu thun. Er allein ist der eigentliche Mensch: der Intellekt ist bloß sein Organ, seine Fühlhörner nach außen, d. i. das Medium der Wirkung auf ihn durch Motive.
Ebensowenig sind dergleichen Thaten moralisch zuzurechnen. Denn sie sind kein Zug des Charakters des Menschen; er hat entweder etwas anderes gethan, als er zu thun wähnte, oder war unfähig an das zu denken, was ihn davon hätte abhalten sollen, d. h. die Gegenmotive zuzulassen. Es ist damit, wie wenn ein chemisch zu untersuchender Stoff der Einwirkung mehrerer Reagenzien ausgesetzt wird, damit man sehe, zu welchem er die stärkste Verwandtschaft hat: findet sich, nach gemachtem Experiment, daß, durch ein zufälliges Hindernis, das eine Reagens gar nicht hat einwirken können; so ist das Experiment ungültig.
Die intellektuelle Freiheit, welche wir hier als ganz aufgehoben betrachteten, kann ferner auch bloß vermindert, oder partiell aufgehoben werden. Dies geschieht besonders durch den Affekt und durch den Rausch. Der Affekt ist die plötzliche, heftige Erregung des Willens durch eine von außen eindringende, zum Motiv werdende Vorstellung, die eine solche Lebhaftigkeit hat, daß sie alle andern, welche ihr als Gegenmotive entgegenwirken könnten, verdunkelt und nicht deutlich ins Bewußtsein kommen läßt. Diese letzteren, welche meistens nur abstrakter Natur, bloße Gedanken, sind, während jene erstere ein Anschauliches, Gegenwärtiges ist, kommen dabei gleichsam nicht zum Schuß und haben also nicht was man auf englisch fair play nennt: die That ist schon geschehen, ehe sie kontragieren konnten. Es ist wie wenn im Duell der eine vor dem Kommandowort losschießt. Auch hier ist demnach sowohl die juridische, als die moralische Verantwortlichkeit, nach Beschaffenheit der Umstände, mehr oder weniger, doch immer zum Teil, aufgehoben. In England wird ein in vollkommener Uebereilung und ohne die geringste Ueberlegung, im heftigsten, plötzlich erregten Zorn begangener Mord manslaughter genannt und leicht, ja, bisweilen gar nicht bestraft. — Der Rausch ist ein Zustand, der zu Affekten disponiert, indem er die Lebhaftigkeit der anschaulichen Vorstellung erhöht, das Denken in abstracto dagegen schwächt und dabei noch die Energie des Willens steigert. An die Stelle der Verantwortlichkeit für die Thaten tritt hier die für den Rausch selbst: daher er juridisch nicht entschuldigt, obgleich hier die intellektuelle Freiheit zum Teil aufgehoben ist.
Von dieser intellektuellen Freiheit, το ἐκούσιον καὶ ἀκούσιον κατὰ διάνοιαν, redet schon, wiewohl sehr kurz und ungenügend, Aristoteles in der Ethic. Eudem., II, c. 7 et 9, und etwas ausführlicher in der Ethic. Nicom., III, c. 2. — Sie ist gemeint, wenn die Medicina forensis und die Kriminaljustiz frägt, ob ein Verbrecher im Zustande der Freiheit und folglich zurechnungsfähig gewesen sei.
Im allgemeinen also sind als unter Abwesenheit der intellektuellen Freiheit begangen alle die Verbrechen anzusehen, bei denen der Mensch entweder nicht wußte, was er that, oder schlechterdings nicht fähig war, zu bedenken, was ihn davon hätte abhalten sollen, nämlich die Folgen der That. In solchen Fällen ist er demnach nicht zu strafen.
Die hingegen, welche meinen, daß schon wegen der Nichtexistenz der moralischen Freiheit und daraus folgender Unausbleiblichkeit aller Handlungen eines gegebenen Menschen, kein Verbrecher gestraft werden dürfte, gehen von der falschen Ansicht der Strafe aus, daß sie eine Heimsuchung der Verbrechen, ihrer selbst wegen, ein Vergelten des Bösen mit Bösem, aus moralischen Gründen, sei. Ein solches aber, wenngleich Kant es gelehrt hat, wäre absurd, zwecklos und durchaus unberechtigt. Denn wie wäre doch ein Mensch befugt, sich zum absoluten Richter des andern, in moralischer Hinsicht, aufzuwerfen und als solcher, seiner Sünden wegen, ihn zu peinigen! Vielmehr hat das Gesetz, d. i. die Androhung der Strafe, den Zweck, das Gegenmotiv zu den noch nicht begangenen Verbrechen zu sein. Verfehlt es, im einzelnen Fall, diese seine Wirkung; so muß es vollzogen werden; weil es sonst sie auch in allen zukünftigen Fällen verfehlen würde. Der Verbrecher seinerseits erleidet, in diesem Fall, die Strafe eigentlich doch infolge seiner moralischen Beschaffenheit, als welche, im Verein mit den Umständen, welche die Motive waren, und seinem Intellekt, der ihm die Hoffnung der Strafe zu entgehen vorspiegelte, die That unausbleiblich herbeigeführt hat. Hierin könnte ihm nur dann Unrecht geschehen, wenn sein moralischer Charakter nicht sein eigenes Werk, seine intelligible That, sondern das Werk eines andern wäre. Dasselbe Verhältnis der That zu ihrer Folge findet statt, wenn die Folgen seines lasterhaften Thuns nicht nach menschlichen, sondern nach Naturgesetzen eintreten, z. B. wenn liederliche Ausschweifungen schreckliche Krankheiten herbeiführen, oder auch wenn er beim Versuch eines Einbruchs, durch einen Zufall, verunglückt, z. B. in dem Schweinestall, in den er bei Nacht einbricht, um dessen gewöhnlichen Bewohner abzuführen, statt seiner den Bären, dessen Führer am Abend in diesem Wirtshause eingekehrt ist, vorfindet, welcher ihm mit offenen Armen entgegenkommt.
Musean translation
Mouseia’s complete machine-assisted Musean translation, made directly from the German, including the author’s notes and appendix. Source edition: Arthur Schopenhauers sämtliche Werke, vol. VII, Die beiden Grundprobleme der Ethik (Stuttgart: J. G. Cotta, n.d. [1890s]), Internet Archive item arthurschopenha07schouoft
Appendix, Supplementing the First Section.
Following the division of freedom into physical, intellectual and moral that I laid down at the very outset, and now that the first and the last have been treated, I still have to discuss the second. This I shall do only for the sake of completeness, and therefore briefly.
The intellect, or faculty of cognition, is the medium of motives: it is through this, that is, that they act upon the will, which is the true core of the human being. Only so far as this medium of motives is in a normal condition, performs its functions properly, and so presents the motives to the will for its choice unfalsified, just as they lie before it in the real external world, can the will decide in accordance with its nature, that is, with the person’s individual character, and thus express itself unhindered, according to its own essential being. Then the person is intellectually free; that is, his actions are the pure result of his will’s reaction to motives that lie before him in the external world just as they lie before everyone else. Accordingly they are then imputable to him, morally and legally as well.
This intellectual freedom is abolished either because the medium of motives, the faculty of cognition, is disordered, whether lastingly or only for a time, or because external circumstances, in a particular case, falsify the apprehension of the motives. The former is the case in madness, delirium, paroxysm and sleep-drunkenness; the latter in a decisive and blameless error, for example when someone pours out poison instead of medicine, or takes a servant coming in at night for a robber and shoots him, and the like. For in both cases the motives are falsified, so that the will cannot decide as it would under the circumstances at hand if the intellect had delivered them to it correctly. Crimes committed under such circumstances are therefore not punishable by law either. For the laws proceed from the correct presupposition that the will is not morally free—in which case it could not be steered—but is subject to compulsion by motives. Accordingly they seek to set against any possible motives to crime stronger counter-motives, in the punishments they threaten, and a criminal code is nothing other than a register of counter-motives to criminal acts. But if it turns out that the intellect, through which these counter-motives were to act, was unable to take them in and hold them before the will, then their effect was impossible: they did not exist for it. It is as if one found that one of the threads meant to set a machine in motion had snapped. Guilt in such a case therefore passes from the will to the intellect; but the intellect is subject to no punishment, and the laws, like morality, have to do with the will alone. The will alone is the true human being: the intellect is merely its organ, its feelers extended outward, that is, the medium through which motives act upon it.
Just as little are such deeds morally imputable. For they are no trait of the person’s character; he either did something other than what he thought he was doing, or was incapable of thinking of what should have restrained him, that is, of admitting the counter-motives. It is as when a substance to be examined chemically is exposed to the action of several reagents, so that one may see for which it has the strongest affinity: if, after the experiment, it turns out that through some accidental obstacle one of the reagents could not act at all, the experiment is invalid.
The intellectual freedom that we have here considered as wholly abolished can also be merely diminished, or partially abolished. This happens especially through emotion and through intoxication. Emotion is the sudden, violent excitation of the will by a representation that bursts in from outside and becomes a motive, one of such vividness that it darkens all the others that could work against it as counter-motives and does not let them come distinctly into consciousness. These latter are mostly of an abstract nature, mere thoughts, whereas the former is something perceptual, something present; so they do not, as it were, get their shot, and thus do not get what in English is called fair play: the deed is already done before they could counteract. It is as if, in a duel, one man fired before the word of command. Here too, then, both legal and moral responsibility is abolished, more or less according to the circumstances, but always only in part. In England a murder committed in complete rashness and without the slightest reflection, in the most violent and suddenly aroused anger, is called manslaughter and is punished lightly, or sometimes not at all.—Intoxication is a state that predisposes to emotions, since it heightens the vividness of perceptual representation, weakens thinking in the abstract, and in addition increases the energy of the will. In place of responsibility for the deeds, responsibility for the intoxication itself steps in here; hence it is not excused in law, although intellectual freedom is here partly abolished.
Of this intellectual freedom—the voluntary and the involuntary in respect of thought—Aristotle already speaks, though very briefly and inadequately, in the Ethic. Eudem., II, c. 7 et 9, and somewhat more fully in the Ethic. Nicom., III, c. 2.—It is this freedom that is meant when forensic medicine and criminal justice ask whether a criminal was in a state of freedom and was therefore accountable.
In general, then, all those crimes are to be regarded as committed in the absence of intellectual freedom in which the person either did not know what he was doing, or was utterly incapable of considering what should have restrained him, namely the consequences of the deed. In such cases, accordingly, he is not to be punished.
Those, by contrast, who think that no criminal ought to be punished, simply because moral freedom does not exist and all the actions of a given person consequently cannot fail to occur, proceed from a false view of punishment: that it is a visitation upon crimes for their own sake, a requiting of evil with evil on moral grounds. Such a thing, though Kant taught it, would be absurd, pointless and wholly unwarranted. For how could one human being be entitled to set himself up as the absolute judge of another in moral respects, and as such to torment him for his sins! Rather, the law, that is, the threat of punishment, has the purpose of being the counter-motive to crimes not yet committed. If in a particular case it fails of this effect, it must be carried out, because otherwise it would fail of it in all future cases too. The criminal for his part suffers the punishment in this case actually in consequence of his moral constitution, which, together with the circumstances that were the motives, and his intellect, which held out to him the hope of escaping punishment, inevitably brought the deed about. He could be wronged in this only if his moral character were not his own work, his intelligible deed, but the work of another. The same relation of deed to consequence holds when the consequences of his vicious doing come about not by human laws but by natural ones, for example when dissolute excesses bring on terrible diseases, or when, in attempting a burglary, he comes to grief through some accident—for example, in the pigsty he breaks into at night to carry off its usual occupant, he finds in its place the bear, whose keeper put up at this inn that evening, and who comes toward him with open arms.
Plain English translation
Mouseia’s complete machine-assisted Plain English translation, made independently and directly from the German, not from the Musean edition or a published English translation, including the author’s notes and appendix. Source edition: Arthur Schopenhauers sämtliche Werke, vol. VII, Die beiden Grundprobleme der Ethik (Stuttgart: J. G. Cotta, n.d. [1890s]), Internet Archive item arthurschopenha07schouoft
Appendix, to Supplement the First Section.
At the very beginning I divided freedom into physical, intellectual, and moral freedom. The first and the last have now been dealt with. So I still have to discuss the second, intellectual freedom. I do this only for the sake of completeness, and so I will be brief.
The intellect, or the faculty of knowledge, is the medium of motives. Motives act on the will through it, and the will is the real core of a human being. The will can decide according to its own nature, that is, according to the person's individual character, only if this medium is in a normal state. The medium must do its work properly. It must present the motives to the will for its choice unaltered, exactly as they exist in the real outer world. Only then can the will express itself without hindrance, in line with its own essence. In that case the person is intellectually free. That is, their actions are the pure result of their will's reaction to motives that exist in the outer world for them just as they do for everyone else. And then the actions can be attributed to them, both morally and legally.
This intellectual freedom is removed in one of two ways. In the first, the medium of motives, the faculty of knowledge, is disordered, either permanently or only for a while. In the second, outside circumstances falsify how the motives are grasped in a particular case. The first happens in madness, delirium, paroxysms, and sleep-drunkenness. The second happens with a definite error that is not the person's fault. For example, someone pours poison instead of medicine. Or someone takes a servant who enters at night for a robber and shoots him. And the like. In both cases the motives are falsified. So the will cannot decide as it would under the circumstances if the intellect had handed the motives over to it correctly. Crimes committed in such circumstances are therefore also not punishable by law. The laws start from a correct assumption. The will, they assume, is not morally free, because in that case it could not be steered. Instead it is subject to compulsion by motives. Accordingly, the laws want to set stronger counter-motives, in the form of the punishments they threaten, against any motives there may be for crimes. A criminal code is nothing other than a list of counter-motives to criminal acts. But suppose it turns out that the intellect, through which these counter-motives had to work, was unable to take them in and hold them before the will. Then they could not have any effect. For the will they did not exist. It is like finding that one of the threads meant to set a machine moving has snapped. In such a case the fault passes from the will to the intellect. But the intellect is not subject to any punishment. The laws, like morality, deal only with the will. It alone is the real human being. The intellect is merely its organ, its feelers toward the outside. That is, it is the medium through which motives act on the will.
Nor, in the same way, can such deeds be attributed to a person morally. They are not a trait of the person's character. Either they did something other than what they thought they were doing, or they were unable to think of what should have held them back, that is, to admit the counter-motives. It is like what happens when a substance that is to be tested chemically is exposed to the action of several reagents, to see which one it has the strongest affinity for. Suppose that after the experiment we find that, because of some accidental obstacle, one reagent could not act at all. Then the experiment is invalid.
The intellectual freedom that we have just treated as completely removed can also be merely reduced, or removed in part. This happens especially through emotion and through intoxication. Emotion is the sudden, violent excitement of the will by a representation that pushes in from outside and becomes a motive. This representation is so vivid that it darkens all the others that could work against it as counter-motives, and does not let them come clearly into consciousness. These other representations are mostly abstract in nature, mere thoughts, while the first is something perceptual and present. So the counter-motives do not, as it were, get a shot off. They do not get what in English is called fair play. The deed is already done before they could act against it. It is as if, in a duel, one man fires before the command is given. So here too both legal and moral responsibility are removed, depending on the circumstances, to a greater or lesser degree, but always only in part. In England a murder committed in complete haste, without the slightest reflection, in the most violent and suddenly aroused anger, is called manslaughter. It is punished lightly, and sometimes not at all.—Intoxication is a state that predisposes a person to emotions. It raises the vividness of perceptual representations, weakens thinking in the abstract, and also increases the energy of the will. Here, in place of responsibility for the deeds, responsibility for the intoxication itself takes over. That is why intoxication is not excused in law, even though intellectual freedom is partly removed here.
Aristotle already speaks of this intellectual freedom, "the voluntary and the involuntary with respect to thought," though very briefly and inadequately, in the Ethic. Eudem., II, c. 7 et 9, and somewhat more fully in the Ethic. Nicom., III, c. 2.—This is the freedom meant when forensic medicine and criminal justice ask whether a criminal was in a state of freedom, and was therefore accountable for their acts.
In general, then, we should regard as committed in the absence of intellectual freedom all those crimes in which the person either did not know what they were doing, or was simply unable to consider what should have held them back, namely the consequences of the deed. In such cases, then, they are not to be punished.
Some people, by contrast, think that no criminal should be punished, simply because moral freedom does not exist and so all the actions of any given person are inevitable. These people start from a false view of punishment. They think punishment is a penalty sent down on crimes for their own sake, a repaying of evil with evil, on moral grounds. But such a thing, even though Kant taught it, would be absurd, pointless, and entirely unjustified. For how could anyone have the right to set themselves up as the absolute judge of another person in moral matters, and as such to torment that person for their sins! Rather, the law, that is, the threat of punishment, has the purpose of being the counter-motive to crimes not yet committed. If it fails to have this effect in a particular case, it must be carried out. Otherwise it would fail in all future cases as well. In that case the criminal, for their part, really suffers the punishment because of their moral nature. That nature, together with the circumstances that were the motives, and with their intellect, which held out to them the false hope of escaping punishment, unavoidably brought about the deed. They could be wronged in this only if their moral character were not their own work, their intelligible deed, but the work of someone else. The relation of the deed to its consequence is the same when the consequences of their vicious conduct come about not by human laws but by laws of nature. One example is when dissolute debauchery brings on terrible diseases. Another is when they come to grief by accident while attempting a burglary. For instance, they break into a pigsty at night to carry off its usual occupant. Instead of the pig they find the bear whose handler stopped at this inn that evening, and the bear comes toward them with open arms.
About this section
Appendix, 1 is part of On the Freedom of the Will by Arthur Schopenhauer. This page sets the German original beside 2 direct-source translations, so any line can be checked against the source. It is chapter 28 of 28 in the work, which is kept in the European tradition.
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