Chapter II, 3

We should not, moreover, be surprised that immediate self-consciousness has no answer to that abstruse, speculative, difficult, and troubling question. For it is a very limited part of our consciousness as a whole, which, dark within, directs all its objective cognitive powers entirely outward. All its perfectly secure knowledge—that is, knowledge certain a priori—concerns the external world alone. There, following certain general laws rooted in itself, it can decide with certainty what is possible, impossible, or necessary outside it, and in this way produces pure mathematics, pure logic, and even a pure fundamental science of nature a priori. Next, the application of the forms of which it is conscious a priori to the data given in sensation supplies it with the real, perceptual external world, and with it experience. Further, the application of logic and the capacity for thought underlying it to that external world will supply concepts, the world of thoughts, and through these, in turn, the sciences, their achievements, and so on. Outside, then, great brightness and clarity lie before its eyes. But within it is dark, like a telescope thoroughly blackened inside: no a priori proposition illuminates the night of its own interior; these lighthouses shine only outward. As discussed above, the so-called inner sense has nothing before it but one's own will, to whose movements all so-called inner feelings must in fact be traced. Yet everything this inner perception of the will supplies comes down, as shown above, to willing and not willing, together with the much-praised certainty “What I will, I can do.” This really means: “I immediately see every act of my will manifest itself, in a way wholly incomprehensible to me, as an action of my body”—and, strictly speaking, is an empirical proposition for the knowing subject. Nothing beyond this is to be found here. The tribunal to which we have appealed thus has no jurisdiction over the question raised; indeed, the question cannot even be brought before it in its true sense, because it does not understand it.

I will now sum up once more, in a shorter and simpler form, the answer received to our inquiry of self-consciousness. Everyone's self-consciousness states very clearly that he can do what he wills. Now, since entirely opposite actions can also be conceived as willed by him, it certainly follows that he can also do opposite things if he wills them. Only the untrained understanding confuses this with his being able, in a given case, also to will opposite things, and calls this freedom of the will. But his being able, in a given case, to will opposite things is absolutely not contained in the statement above. It contains only this: of two opposite actions, if he wills this one he can do it, and if he wills that one he can do it as well. Whether, in the given case, he can will the one just as well as the other remains unsettled by this and requires a deeper investigation than mere self-consciousness can decide. The shortest, though scholastic, formula for this result would run: the testimony of self-consciousness concerns the will only from the side of what follows it; the question of freedom, by contrast, concerns it from the side of what precedes it.—Thus that undeniable testimony of self-consciousness, “I can do what I will,” contains and decides absolutely nothing about freedom of the will. Such freedom would consist in the particular act of will itself, in each individual case, and thus with a given individual character, not being necessarily determined by the external circumstances in which this person finds himself, but being able to turn out one way or another. On this, however, self-consciousness remains entirely silent, for the matter lies wholly outside its domain, resting as it does on the causal relation between the external world and the human being. If we ask someone of sound understanding but without philosophical training what constitutes the freedom of the will that he so confidently asserts on the testimony of his self-consciousness, he will answer: “That I can do what I will, so long as I am not physically prevented.” Thus it is always the relation of his doing to his willing that he speaks of. But as shown in the first section, this is still merely physical freedom. If we ask him further whether, in a given case, he can then will both a thing and its opposite, he will indeed say yes in his initial eagerness. But as soon as he begins to grasp the question's meaning, he will also begin to grow uneasy, finally lapse into uncertainty and confusion, and prefer to escape from these by taking refuge once again behind his refrain, “I can do what I will,” entrenching himself there against all grounds and reasoning. The corrective answer to his refrain, however, would run—as I hope to establish beyond doubt in the next section: “You can do what you will; but at any given moment of your life you can will only one definite thing, and absolutely nothing other than that one thing.”

The argument contained in this section would, strictly speaking, already have answered the Royal Society's question, and answered it in the negative, although only in its essentials, since this account of the facts within self-consciousness will itself receive some further completion in what follows. But there is also, in one eventuality, a further check on this negative answer of ours. Suppose we now put the question to the authority to which we were referred above as the only competent one: the pure understanding, reason reflecting on its data, and experience following in the train of both. Suppose its verdict were that free choice does not exist at all, but that human action, like everything else in nature, occurs in every given case as an effect that necessarily ensues. This would give us the further certainty that immediate self-consciousness cannot even contain data from which the free choice in question could be proved. By means of the inference from impossibility to nonexistence, which is the only possible way to establish negative truths a priori, our decision would thus receive a rational foundation in addition to the empirical one presented so far, and would then be doubly secured. For a decisive contradiction between the immediate testimony of self-consciousness and the results drawn from the principles of the pure understanding, together with their application to experience, must not be assumed possible: our self-consciousness cannot be so deceitful. Here it should be noted that even the alleged antinomy Kant advanced on this subject is not supposed, even by his own account, to arise from the thesis and antithesis proceeding from different sources of knowledge—for example, one from the testimony of self-consciousness, the other from reason and experience. Rather, thesis and antithesis both argue from purportedly objective grounds. But the thesis rests on nothing but lazy reason—that is, the need to come to a stop somewhere in the regress—whereas the antithesis really does have all the objective grounds on its side.

The indirect investigation we must now undertake, keeping to the field of the faculty of cognition and the external world before it, will at the same time cast much light back on the direct investigation carried out so far, and so serve to supplement it. For it will uncover the natural illusions arising from a false interpretation of that exceedingly simple testimony of self-consciousness, when self-consciousness comes into conflict with the consciousness of other things, which is the faculty of cognition and is rooted in one and the same subject as self-consciousness. Indeed, only at the close of this indirect investigation will some light dawn on the true meaning and content of the “I will” that accompanies all our actions, and on the consciousness of being their origin and exercising our own power, by virtue of which they are our actions. Only through this will the direct investigation pursued so far attain its completion.

We should not be surprised that immediate self-consciousness has no answer to that obscure, speculative, difficult, and troubling question. It is a very limited part of our consciousness as a whole. That consciousness is dark within and directs all its objective powers of knowledge outward. All its completely certain knowledge—knowledge certain independently of experience—concerns only the external world. There it can decide with certainty what is possible, impossible, or necessary, according to certain general laws rooted in itself. In this way it produces pure mathematics, pure logic, and even a pure science of nature's foundations, independently of experience. Next, it applies the forms it is conscious of independently of experience to the facts given in sensation. This supplies it with the real external world of perception, and with experience. Further, applying logic and the power of thought underlying it to that external world supplies concepts and the world of thoughts. These in turn supply the sciences, their achievements, and so on. Out there, then, all is bright and clear before its eyes. But inside it is dark, like a well-blackened telescope. No principle known independently of experience lights up the night of its own interior. These lighthouses shine only outward. As discussed above, the so-called inner sense has nothing before it but our own will. All so-called inner feelings can really be traced back to the movements of that will. But as shown above, everything this inner perception of the will supplies comes down to willing and not willing, along with the much-praised certainty: "What I will, I can do." This really means: "I see every act of my will appear at once, in a way completely incomprehensible to me, as an action of my body." Strictly speaking, for the knowing subject this is a statement based on experience. Nothing beyond this can be found here. So the court we have approached has no authority to judge the question raised. In fact, the question in its true sense cannot even be put before that court, since it does not understand it.

I will now restate the answer to our inquiry at self-consciousness in a shorter, simpler form. Everyone's self-consciousness says very clearly that they can do what they will. We can also think of them willing completely opposite actions. It certainly follows that they can also do opposite things if they will. Only an untrained understanding confuses this with being able to will opposite things in a given case, and calls this freedom of the will. But the statement above contains absolutely no claim that someone can will opposite things in a given case. It says only that, of two opposite actions, if they will this one, they can do it; and if they will that one, they can do that too. Whether they can will either one in the given case remains unsettled. That calls for a deeper investigation than self-consciousness alone can decide. The shortest formula for this result, though put in academic terms, would be: self-consciousness speaks about the will only from the side of what follows it; the question of freedom concerns the side of what precedes it. So the undeniable testimony of self-consciousness, "I can do what I will," contains and decides absolutely nothing about freedom of the will. Such freedom would mean that the act of will on each occasion, in each individual case and with a given individual character, was not necessarily determined by the external circumstances in which this person then found themselves. Instead, it could turn out this way or another. Self-consciousness remains completely silent about this. The matter lies entirely outside its range, since it rests on the causal relation between the external world and the human being. Ask someone of sound understanding but without philosophical education what constitutes the freedom of the will they assert so confidently on the testimony of self-consciousness. They will answer: "The fact that I can do what I will, as long as I am not physically prevented." So they are always speaking about the relation between their action and their willing. But as shown in the first section, this is still only physical freedom. Ask further whether, in that situation, they can will either a thing or its opposite in the given case. In their initial eagerness they will say yes. But as soon as they begin to grasp what the question means, they will also begin to have doubts. Finally they will become uncertain and confused. Their preferred escape will be to retreat behind their refrain, "I can do what I will," and entrench themselves there against all arguments and reasoning. But the corrected reply to their refrain would be as follows, as I hope to establish beyond doubt in the next section: "You can do what you will. But at any given moment of your life you can will only one definite thing, and absolutely nothing other than that one thing."

The discussion in this section would, strictly speaking, already answer the Royal Society's question, and answer it in the negative. This is only the main outline of an answer, however. The account of the facts within self-consciousness will also be filled out somewhat in what follows. But in one eventuality we can also check this negative answer. We can now put the question to the authority to which we were referred above as the only competent one: pure understanding, reason reflecting on its data, and experience following in the wake of both. Suppose its decision were that freedom of choice does not exist at all. Instead, human action, like everything else in nature, occurs in each given case as an effect that necessarily follows. This would also assure us that immediate self-consciousness cannot even contain facts from which the freedom of choice in question could be proved. Our decision would then gain a rational basis in addition to the empirical basis already presented, and so would be doubly secured. This would happen through the inference from impossibility to nonexistence, the only possible way to establish negative truths independently of experience. For we cannot assume that a definite contradiction is possible between the immediate testimony of self-consciousness and the results of the principles of pure understanding, together with their application to experience. Our self-consciousness cannot be so deceitful. Here we should note that even the supposed antinomy Kant set out on this subject is not meant, even by Kant himself, to arise from the thesis and antithesis coming from different sources of knowledge. It is not that one starts, say, from the testimony of self-consciousness and the other from reason and experience. Instead, both thesis and antithesis argue from supposedly objective grounds. But the thesis rests on nothing but lazy reason: the need to stop somewhere in the backward search for grounds. The antithesis, by contrast, really has all the objective grounds on its side.

We must now undertake this indirect investigation. It will stay within the field of the faculty of knowledge and the external world presented to it. But it will also cast much light back on the direct investigation carried out so far, and so help to complete it. It will expose the natural errors that arise from misreading that very simple testimony of self-consciousness when self-consciousness comes into conflict with consciousness of other things. This latter consciousness is the faculty of knowledge. It is rooted in one and the same subject as self-consciousness. Indeed, only at the end of this indirect investigation will some light dawn on the true meaning and content of the "I will" that accompanies all our actions. It will also illuminate our consciousness that these actions originate in us and are under our own power, which makes them our actions. Only then will the direct investigation carried out so far be complete.