Chapter II, 1

II. The Will Before Self-Consciousness.

When a person wills, he also wills something: his act of will is always directed toward an object and can be conceived only in relation to one. What, then, does it mean to will something? It means that the act of will, which in itself is initially only an object of self-consciousness, arises on the occasion of something belonging to the consciousness of other things, and thus an object of the faculty of cognition. In this relation that object is called a motive, and it is also the material of the act of will, since the act is directed toward it—that is, aims at some change in it, and so reacts to it: its whole essence consists in this reaction. This already makes it clear that the act could not occur without that object, since it would lack both an occasion and material. The question, however, is whether, once this object stands before the faculty of cognition, the act of will must also occur, or whether it could instead fail to occur, with either no act arising at all or a quite different, perhaps even opposite one; in other words, whether that reaction could fail to occur, or, under entirely identical circumstances, turn out differently, even oppositely. In short: does the motive necessarily call forth the act of will? Or, when the motive enters consciousness, does the will retain complete freedom to will or not to will? Here, then, the concept of freedom is taken in the abstract sense discussed above and shown to be the only one applicable here—as the mere negation of necessity—and our problem is thereby established. We must look for the data for its solution in immediate self-consciousness, and to that end we will examine its testimony closely, rather than cut the knot with a summary verdict, as Descartes did when he simply asserted: “Yet we are so conscious of the freedom and indifference within us that there is nothing we comprehend more evidently and perfectly.” (Princ. phil., I, § 41.) The untenability of this assertion was already recognized by Leibniz (Theod., I, § 50, et III, § 292), although on this point he himself was only a wavering reed in the wind and, after the most contradictory pronouncements, finally arrived at the conclusion that motives incline the will but do not necessitate it. He says, namely: “All actions are determined and never indifferent, because there is always a reason that inclines, though it does not necessitate, that things should happen in this way rather than another.” (Leibniz, De libertate: Opera, ed. Erdmann, p. 669.) This gives me occasion to observe that such a middle course between the alternatives posed above cannot be maintained. We cannot, in keeping with a certain popular halfheartedness, say that motives determine the will only to some extent, that it undergoes their influence, but only up to a certain degree, and can then withdraw from it. For once we have conceded causality to a given force—that is, recognized that it acts—then, if it encounters resistance, we need only increase the force in proportion to that resistance, and it will complete its effect. Someone who cannot be won over with 10 ducats, but wavers, will be won over with 100, and so on.

We therefore put our problem to immediate self-consciousness in the sense established above. What light can this self-consciousness shed on that abstract question: whether or not the concept of necessity applies to the occurrence of an act of will once a motive has been given—that is, presented to the intellect? Or on the possibility or impossibility of the act's failing to occur in such a case? We would find ourselves badly mistaken if we expected this self-consciousness to furnish thorough and far-reaching explanations of causality in general and motivation in particular, or of the necessity they may carry with them. For self-consciousness, as it dwells in every human being, is far too simple and limited a thing to have any say in such matters. These concepts are drawn instead from the pure understanding, which is directed outward, and can be brought up for discussion only before the tribunal of reflective reason. That natural, simple—indeed, simpleminded—self-consciousness, by contrast, cannot even understand the question, much less answer it. Its testimony about acts of will, which everyone can listen for within himself, might be expressed as follows once stripped of everything extraneous and inessential and reduced to its bare content: “I can will, and whenever I will an action, the movable limbs of my body will carry it out at once, as soon as I will it, without fail.” In short: “I can do what I will.” The testimony of immediate self-consciousness goes no further, however we turn it and in whatever form we put the question. Its testimony thus always concerns the ability to act in accordance with the will. But this is the empirical, original, and popular concept of freedom stated at the very beginning, according to which free means “in accordance with the will.” Self-consciousness will affirm this freedom unconditionally. But it is not the freedom we are asking about. Self-consciousness affirms freedom of action—on the assumption of willing; but it is freedom of willing that has been asked about. We are investigating the relation of willing itself to the motive; yet the statement “I can do what I will” says nothing about this. The dependence of our doing—that is, our bodily actions—on our will, to which self-consciousness certainly testifies, is something quite different from the independence of our acts of will from external circumstances. That independence would constitute freedom of the will, but self-consciousness can testify to nothing about it, because it lies outside its sphere: it concerns the causal relation of the external world, which is given to us as consciousness of other things, to our decisions. Self-consciousness, however, cannot judge the relation of what lies entirely outside its domain to what lies within it. For no cognitive faculty can establish a relation one of whose terms can in no way be given to it. Yet the objects of willing, which are precisely what determine the act of will, plainly lie beyond the boundary of self-consciousness, in the consciousness of other things; only the act of will itself lies within it, and the question concerns their causal relation to that act. Self-consciousness has to do only with the act of will, together with its absolute dominion over the body's limbs, which is what “what I will” really means. Moreover, only the exercise of this dominion—that is, the deed—stamps it as an act of will, even for self-consciousness. For as long as it is taking shape it is called a wish; when complete, a decision. But even to self-consciousness, only the deed proves it to be a decision, since until then it remains changeable. Here we already stand at the chief source of that admittedly undeniable semblance which leads the unreflective person—that is, the philosophically untrained person—to believe that in a given case opposite acts of will would be possible for him, and to insist on the authority of his self-consciousness, which, he thinks, testifies to this. He confuses wishing with willing. He can wish for opposite things ∗); but he can will only one of them, and which one that is becomes apparent even to self-consciousness only through the deed. Precisely for this reason, self-consciousness can contain nothing about the law-governed necessity by which, of opposite wishes, one and not the other becomes an act of will and a deed: it learns the result entirely after the fact, rather than knowing it in advance. Opposite wishes, with their motives, rise and fall before it, alternately and repeatedly. Of each, it testifies that it will become a deed if it becomes an act of will. For this last, purely subjective possibility is indeed present for each, and is precisely the “I can do what I will.” But this subjective possibility is entirely hypothetical: it says only, “If I will this, I can do it.” It does not, however, contain the determination required for willing, since self-consciousness contains only willing, not the grounds that determine one to will; these lie in the consciousness of other things, that is, in the faculty of cognition. What decides the issue, by contrast, is objective possibility. This lies outside self-consciousness, in the world of objects, to which the motive and the human being as an object belong; it is therefore foreign to self-consciousness and belongs to the consciousness of other things. That subjective possibility is of the same kind as a stone's possibility of giving off sparks, which is nevertheless conditional on the steel, to which the objective possibility belongs. I will return to this from the other side in the next section, where we will consider the will no longer from within, as here, but from without, and thus investigate the objective possibility of the act of will. Then, once the matter has been illuminated from two different sides, it will become entirely clear and will also be illustrated by examples.

∗) See on this point “Parerga”, Teil 2, § 327.

II. The will as it appears to self-consciousness.

When someone wills, they will something. An act of will always aims at an object. We can think of it only in relation to such an object. What does it mean, then, to will something? It means this: an act of will is itself, at first, only an object of self-consciousness. But it arises in response to something that belongs to our consciousness of other things. That something is an object of our faculty of knowledge. In this connection we call it a motive. It also provides the act of will with its subject matter. The act aims at it, meaning that it seeks some change in it and so reacts to it. This reaction makes up the act's whole nature. It is already clear from this that the act could not occur without that object. It would lack both an occasion and something to act on. But here is the question. Once this object is present to the faculty of knowledge, must the act of will occur? Or could it fail to occur, with either no act of will arising or a completely different, perhaps even opposite one? In other words, could that reaction fail to happen? Or could it be different, or even opposite, under exactly the same circumstances? In short: does the motive necessarily produce the act of will? Or, when the motive enters consciousness, does the will retain complete freedom to will or not to will? Here we use the concept of freedom in the abstract sense discussed above and shown to be the only one applicable here: simply the absence of necessity. This defines our problem. We must look for the facts needed to solve it in immediate self-consciousness. To do this, we will examine its testimony closely. We will not cut the knot with a sweeping decision, as Descartes did. He simply asserted: "But we are so conscious of the freedom and indifference within us that there is nothing we grasp more clearly and completely." (Princ. phil., I, § 41.) Leibniz already pointed out that this assertion is untenable (Theod., I, § 50, et III, § 292). Yet on this point he himself was only a reed swaying in the wind. After making the most contradictory statements, he finally reached the conclusion that motives incline the will but do not necessitate it. He says: "All actions are determined and never indifferent, because there is always a reason that inclines, but does not necessitate, things to happen this way rather than another." (Leibniz, De libertate: Opera, ed. Erdmann, p. 669.) This leads me to point out that no such middle course between the alternatives stated above can hold. We cannot adopt a certain popular half-measure and say that motives determine the will only to some extent: that it feels their influence, but only up to a certain point, and can then escape it. Once we grant a given force causal power, and so recognize that it has an effect, any resistance only calls for an increase in that force in proportion to the resistance. It will then complete its effect. Someone who cannot be won over with 10 ducats, but wavers, will be won over with 100, and so on.

We therefore put our problem to immediate self-consciousness, in the sense established above. What can this self-consciousness tell us about that abstract question? Does the concept of necessity apply to the occurrence of an act of will once a motive is given—that is, presented to the intellect—or does it not? Can the act fail to occur in that case, or can it not? We would be badly mistaken to expect this self-consciousness to give us thorough, far-reaching answers about causality in general, motivation in particular, or the necessity either might involve. Self-consciousness, as it exists in everyone, is much too simple and limited to have a say in such matters. These concepts come instead from pure understanding, which is directed outward. They can be discussed only before the tribunal of reflective reason. Natural, simple, indeed naive self-consciousness cannot even understand the question, much less answer it. Each person can listen inwardly to its testimony about acts of will. Stripped of everything foreign and inessential, and reduced to its bare content, that testimony would run something like this: "I can will. And when I will an action, the movable parts of my body will carry it out at once, as soon as I will it, without fail." In short: "I can do what I will." Immediate self-consciousness says nothing beyond this, however we turn its statement around or frame the question. Its testimony always concerns our ability to act according to our will. But this is the empirical, original, everyday concept of freedom set out at the very beginning. In that sense, free means "in accordance with the will." Self-consciousness will affirm this freedom without reservation. But it is not the freedom we are asking about. Self-consciousness affirms freedom of action—on the assumption that we will. Our question concerns freedom of willing. We are investigating the relation between willing itself and the motive. The statement "I can do what I will" says nothing about this. Self-consciousness does indeed tell us that our actions, meaning our bodily actions, depend on our will. But that is quite different from our acts of will being independent of external circumstances. Such independence would constitute freedom of the will. Self-consciousness can tell us nothing about it because it lies outside its sphere. It concerns the causal relation of the external world, given to us in our consciousness of other things, to our decisions. Self-consciousness cannot judge the relation between something entirely outside its range and something within it. No faculty of knowledge can establish a relation if one of its terms cannot be given to it in any way. Clearly, the objects of willing, which determine the act of will, lie outside the bounds of self-consciousness. They belong to our consciousness of other things. Only the act of will itself lies within self-consciousness. And our question concerns the causal relation of those objects to this act. Self-consciousness deals only with the act of will and its absolute control over the parts of the body. That control is what is really meant by "what I will." In fact, only the exercise of this control—the deed—marks it as an act of will even for self-consciousness. While it is still taking shape, it is called a wish. Once complete, it is called a decision. But even self-consciousness has proof that it is a decision only when the deed occurs. Until then it can change. Here we have already reached the main source of an illusory appearance that certainly cannot be denied. It leads the unreflective person—someone with no philosophical training—to think that opposite acts of will are possible for them in a given case. They insist that their self-consciousness tells them so. They are confusing wishing with willing. They can wish for opposite things ∗), but they can will only one of them. Even self-consciousness learns which one only from the deed. For that very reason, self-consciousness can tell us nothing about the law-governed necessity through which one of two opposite wishes, rather than the other, becomes an act of will and a deed. It learns the result entirely after the event, not in advance. Opposite wishes, with their motives, rise and fall before it, alternately and repeatedly. Of each it says that it will become a deed if it becomes an act of will. This last, purely subjective possibility does exist for each wish. It is precisely what "I can do what I will" means. But this subjective possibility is entirely conditional. It says only: "If I will this, I can do it." It does not include the determining factor needed for willing. Self-consciousness contains only willing, not the grounds that determine it. Those grounds lie in our consciousness of other things, that is, in our faculty of knowledge. What decides the matter, by contrast, is objective possibility. But that lies outside self-consciousness, in the world of objects. Both the motive and the human being considered as an object belong to that world. Objective possibility is therefore foreign to self-consciousness and belongs to our consciousness of other things. That subjective possibility is like a stone's capacity to give off sparks. This capacity is conditional on the steel, which carries the objective possibility. I will return to this from the other side in the next section. There we will no longer consider the will from within, as we do here, but from outside. We will thus investigate the objective possibility of an act of will. Once the matter has been lit up from these two different sides, it will become completely clear. Examples will also illustrate it.

∗) See "Parerga", Teil 2, § 327.