Chapter I (1)

The psychological theory of Sigwart shows itself in all its weakness when he seeks to give an account of the notion of “_existence_.” It has been already recognized by Aristotle, that this notion is gained by reflection upon the affirmative judgment. But Sigwart, like most modern logicians, neglects to make use of this hint. Instead of saying that to the existent belongs everything of which the affirmative judgment is true, he becomes repeatedly, and once more in the second edition of his logic (pp. 88-95) involved in diffuse discussions upon the notion of being and upon existential propositions, which cannot in any way conduce to clearness, seeing that they move in false directions.

“To be,” according to Sigwart, expresses a relation (pp. 88, 95); if it be asked: What kind of a relation? the answer would, at first sight (92), appear to be, a relation to me as thinking. But no; the existential proposition asserts just this: “that the existing also exists, apart from its relation to me and to another thinking being.” It cannot, therefore, be “a relation to me as thinking.” But what other relation can be meant? Not until p. 94 is this brought out more clearly. The relation ought to mean (of course he adds “zunächst”, provisionally) the agreement (“identity” ib.) of the thing represented with a possible impression (“einem Wahrnehmbaren” ib. “something which may be perceived by me,” ib. p. 90).

Now it will be immediately recognized that this notion of existence is too narrow; for it might very well be asserted that much exists which it is not possible to perceive, e.g. a past and a future, an empty space, and any sort of deficiency, a possibility or impossibility, etc., etc. It is therefore not surprising that Sigwart himself seeks to widen the notion. But he does this in a manner which I find it difficult to understand. At first sight he appears to say in order that something may exist it is not necessary that it can be perceived by me; it is enough if it can be perceived by anybody. Or what else can be meant when Sigwart, after what has just been said, that existence was the agreement of the thing represented with a possible impression, thus continues: “That which exists stands not merely _in this relation_ to me but to all other existing beings?” It cannot surely mean that Sigwart is inclined to ascribe to every existing being the capacity to receive every impression. It may be he only wishes to say that everything which exists stands to every other existing being in the relation of existence, and then it might be concluded from what immediately follows that this rather meaningless definition is intended to express that existence is the capacity to act or to be acted upon. (“What exists ... stands in causal relations to the rest of the world”; similar also is p. 91, note: the existent is something which “can exercise effects upon me and others.”) Finally, however, there is some ground for thinking Sigwart would say: what exists is that which can be perceived or can be inferred as perceivable, for he adds: “hence (on account of this causal relation) from what is _perceivable_ also an existence which is merely _inferred_ may be asserted.”

That all this is equally to be rejected it is not difficult to recognize.

For (1) To “infer” the existence of something does not mean so much as “to infer that it is capable of being perceived.” If, for example, the existence of atoms and of empty spaces could be assured by inference, we should still be very far from proving their perceptibility either to ourselves or to some other being. If any one were to conclude the existence of God while giving up the attempt “to give vividness” to the thought by anthropomorphic means, he would not on this account believe that God must be perceptible to one of his creatures or even that he is the object of his own perception.

2. From this point of view it would be absurd for any one to say: “I am convinced that there is much the existence of which can neither be perceived at any time or even inferred by anybody.” For that would mean: “I am convinced that much can be perceived or can be inferred to be capable of perception which yet can never be perceived or inferred.” Who does not recognize here how far Sigwart has strayed from the true notion of existence!

3. Should Sigwart wish in this passage to widen the notion of existence to such a degree as to think that existence is that which can either be perceived or inferred from some perceivable object, or again, stands in some sort of causal relation to what is perceivable, it might be replied--if indeed such a monstrous notion of existence still require refutation--that even this notion is still too narrow. If, for example, I say: It may be that an empty space exists but this can never with certainty be known by any one, I thereby confess that existence may perhaps belong to empty space; but I deny most definitely that it is perceptible, or that it is to be inferred from that which is perceptible. In regard to relations of cause and effect on the other hand, it is of course impossible that empty space (which is certainly no thing) can stand in such a relation to anything perceivable. We should thus once again arrive at an absurd meaning in interpretation of an assertion in no way absurd.

How wrongly Sigwart has analysed the notion of existence is also proved very simply by means of the following proposition: A real centaur does not exist; a centaur _in idea_, however, certainly exists, and that as often as I imagine it. Whoever does not clearly recognize here the distinction of the “ὂν ὡς ἀληθές i.e. in the sense of existing, from ὂν in the sense of real (wesenhaft) will I fear hardly be brought to recognize it by the fullest illustrations which might be furnished by further examples. We may, however, also consider briefly the following point: According to Sigwart, the knowledge of the existence of anything consists in the knowledge of the agreement of something represented in idea with, let us say, χ, since I do not clearly understand with what. What now is necessary in order to recognize the agreement of something with something else? Manifestly, the knowledge of everything which is required in order that this agreement should really exist. But this requires (1) that the one element exist, (2) that the other element exist, and (3) that between them there exist the relation of identity since what does not exist can be neither like something nor different from it. But the knowledge of the first element constitutes already in itself a knowledge of existence. Hence the knowledge of the two remaining elements is no longer necessary to the recognition of any existence, and Sigwart’s theory leads to a contradiction. (Cf. with what has been said here, Sigwart’s polemic against my _Psychology_, book ii. chap. vii. in his work; _The Impersonalia_, p. 50 seq., and _Logic_, vol. i. second edition, p. 89 seq. note, as well as Marty’s polemic against Sigwart in the articles: “Über Subjectlose Sätze” in the _Vierteljahrsschrift für wissenschaftliche Philosophie_, viii. i. seq.)[A]

[A] I had already written my Critique of Sigwart’s notion of existence when I became aware of a note in his _Logic_, second ed, p. 390, a passage which, while it has not made it necessary to alter anything which I had written, has led me to insert it for the purpose of comparison. “Das Seiende überhaupt,” Sigwart writes, “kann nicht als wahrer Gattungsbegriff zu dem einzelnen Seienden betrachtet werden; es ist, begrifflich betrachtet, nur ein gemeinschaftlicher Name. Denn, da ‘Sein’ für uns ein Relationsprädikat ist, kann es kein gemeinschaftliches Merkmal sein, es müsste denn gezeigt werden, dass dieses Prädikat in einer dem Begriffe alles Seienden gemeinsamen Bestimmung wurzle.” I fear that the reader will, just as little as myself, attain by this explanation to clearness concerning Sigwart’s notion of existence. He will perhaps the better understand why all my efforts regarding it have proved futile. s Sigwart has failed to grasp the nature of judgment in general he is not, of course, able to understand that of the _negative_ judgment in particular. He has gone so far in error as to deny to it an equal right as species along with the positive judgment; no negative judgment is, he thinks, a direct judgment, its object is rather always another actual judgment or the attempt to form such a judgment.

In this assertion Sigwart is opposed to some important psychological views which I have made good in my lecture. It would therefore seem fitting to resist his attack. For this purpose I shall show: (1) that Sigwart’s doctrine is badly founded; (2) that it leads to an irremediable confusion, as in that case Sigwart’s affirmative judgment is a negative judgment, while his negative judgment if indeed a judgment at all, and not rather the absence of one, is a positive judgment, and that moreover his positive judgment really involves a negative one, along with other similar confusions. (3) Finally I think it will be possible--thanks to Sigwart’s detailed explanations--to show the genesis of his error.

1. The first inquiry in the case of an assertion so novel and so widely diverging from the general view, will be as to its foundation. With regard to this, he insists above all (p. 150) that the negative judgment would have no meaning if the thought of the positive attribution of a predicate had not preceded. But what can this mean? Either there is here a clear _petitio principii_, or it cannot mean anything more than that a connection of ideas must have preceded. Now granting this for a moment (although I have in my _Psychology_ shown its falsity) this would by no means prove his proposition, since Sigwart himself recognizes (p. 89 note, and elsewhere) that such a “subjective connexion of ideas” would still not be a judgment; that there needs rather to be added to it a certain feeling of constraint.

An argument follows later (p. 151) the logical connexion of which I understand just as little. It is rightly observed that in and for itself we have the right to deny of anything an infinite number of predicates, and it is with equal right added that in spite of this, we do not really pass all these negative judgments. And now what conclusion is drawn from these premisses? Perhaps this, that the fact that a certain negative judgment is warranted is not sufficient in itself to explain the entrance of the judgment. This we may without hesitation admit. But Sigwart concludes quite otherwise; he permits himself to assert, it follows from this that the further condition which is here lacking is that the corresponding positive affirmation has not yet been attempted. This is indeed a bold leap, and one which my logic at least is not able to follow. And why, if one were to inquire further, are not all the positive judgments here concerned really attempted? The most probable answer, judging by the examples given by Sigwart (this stone reads, writes, sings, composes; justice is blue, green, heptagonal, rotating), is, that this has not been done because the negative judgment has already been made with evident certainty; for this would best explain why there is no “danger of any one attributing these predicates to the stone or to justice.” If, however, any one prefer to answer that “the narrowness of consciousness” makes it impossible to attempt at the same time an infinite number of positive judgments, I am content with this expedient also, only it must then be asked if this appeal ought not to have been made directly and earlier, since Sigwart himself calls the possible negative judgments an “_immeasurable_ quantity.”

It is also a curious error (Marty has already called attention to it), when Sigwart asserts that in contradistinction to what holds good of the negative judgment “every subject admits only of a limited number of predicates being affirmed.” But why? Can we not, for example, say a whole hour is greater than half an hour, greater than a third, greater than a fourth and so on _ad infin._?... If then, notwithstanding, I do not really make all these judgments, there are evidently good reasons for this; above all that the “narrowness of consciousness” forbids it. But then this might also be applied most successfully in regard to negative judgments.

Somewhat later we meet a third argument which, as I have already by anticipation refuted it in my _Psychology_ (book ii. chap. 7, section v.), will be treated quite shortly here. If the negative judgment were a direct one, co-ordinated with the affirmative judgment as species then, thinks Sigwart (p. 155 seq.), whoever in an affirmative categorical proposition regards the affirmation of the subject as involved must, to be consistent, regard the denial of the subject as involved in the negative proposition, which is not the case. The latter observation is correct, the former assertion, however, quite untenable, as it involves in itself a contradiction. For exactly because the existence of each part in a whole is involved in the existence of the whole, the whole no longer exists if but one of its parts is missing.

It only remains now to consider a point of language by which Sigwart believes himself able to support his view. A testimony for it is, he thinks, to be found in the fact that the symbol for the negative judgment is formed in every case by means of a combination with the symbol of affirmation, the word “not” being added to the copula. In order to judge what is here actually the fact, we will glance for a moment at the sphere of feeling. Sigwart agrees, I think, with me and everybody else that pleasing and displeasing, rejoicing and sorrowing, loving and hating, etc., are co-ordinate with each other. Yet a complete series of expressions denoting a disinclination of feeling are found in dependence upon the expression for the corresponding inclination. For example, inclination, disinclination; pleasure, displeasure; ease, disease; Wille, Widerwille; froh, unfroh; happy, unhappy; beautiful, unbeautiful; pleasant, unpleasant;--even “ungut” is used. The explanation of this is, I believe, not difficult for the psychologist, notwithstanding the equally primordial character of these opposite modes of feeling. Ought then the explanation of the phenomenon lying before us in the expression of the negative judgment, closely related as it is to the before mentioned phenomenon, to be really so very difficult, even assuming the primordial character?

As a matter of fact the case must be very bad when thinkers like Sigwart in making statements so important in principle, and at the same time so unusual, have to resort to arguments so weak.

2. The grounds on which Sigwart’s doctrine concerning the negative judgment rest have, therefore, each and all proved untenable. This must be so; for how could the truth of any doctrine be shown which would plunge everything into the greatest confusion?

Sigwart finds himself compelled to distinguish between the positive and the affirmative judgment, and the affirmative judgment--one hears and wonders at the new terminology--is according to him, closely examined, a negative judgment. On page 150 he says literally: “The primordial judgment can certainly not be termed the affirmative judgment, but is better described as the positive judgment, for only in opposition to the negative judgment, and _in so far as it rejects_ the possibility of a negation, is the simple statement A is B an affirmation,” and so on. Inasmuch as it “rejects.” What else can that mean than “so far as it denies”? As a matter of fact only those negations can, according to this new and extraordinary use of language, be called affirmations! Yet this would really mean, and particularly when it is said that the proposition A is B _is_ often such a negation (cf. the expressions just quoted), that the use of language would be reduced to a confusion quite unnecessary and altogether unendurable.

Not only is the affirmation--as set forth--according to Sigwart really a negation but also, paradoxical as it may seem, the negation, on close consideration, proves to be a positive judgment. It is true, Sigwart protests against those who, like Hobbes, would regard all negatives as affirmative judgments with negative predicates. But, following Sigwart, if this is not so, then these must be affirmative judgments with affirmative predicates, since he teaches that the subject is in every case a judgment, the predicate being the notion of invalidity. On p. 160 he says in the note the negation does away with a supposition, denies the validity, and this expression, considered in itself, might be taken to mean that Sigwart assumes here a special function of denial (absprechen) the contrary of that of affirmation (zusprechen). But no; a negative copula (cf. p. 153) according to him there is not.

Now what in the world is one to understand by “denial” (absprechen)? Does it mean the simple suppression (Aufhörenlassen) of the positive judgment upon the given subject matter, that is, according to Sigwart, the falling away of the feeling of compulsion previously given in a connexion between ideas? This is impossible, since the removal of this would bring about a condition in which the connexion of ideas remains, without being either affirmed or denied. How often does something of which we were previously certain become uncertain without our on this account denying it. What then is this denying? May we perhaps say that according to Sigwart it is a feeling oneself compelled (sich-genötigt-fühlen) to annul, whereas affirming is a feeling oneself compelled to posit? We should then have to say that all the while we are passing a negative judgment, we are in reality always seeking to pass a positive judgment, but that we experience a hindrance in so doing. The same consciousness, however, is felt by one who is clearly aware of the entire absence of a positive ground. For how can any one succeed in believing anything which he at the same time holds to be entirely ungrounded? Of no one, especially if Sigwart’s definition of the judgment be applied as the standard, is this conceivable; that is to say, every one in such a case will experience failure in such an attempt. Accordingly there is, as yet, no negative judgment. If then the rejection does not signify a negative copula it must manifestly be regarded as an instance of the affirmation of the predicate “false,” or (to use Sigwart’s term) as its “identification” with the judgment which in this case should be the subject. This “false” also cannot simply mean “untrue,” for I can assert “untrue” of thousands of things with regard to which the predicate “false,” which appears in certain judgments, would not be in place. If only judgments are true, then of everything which is not a judgment the predicate “untrue” must be affirmed, though certainly not on that account the predicate “false.” “False” must therefore be regarded as a positive predicate; and so from Sigwart’s point of view absolutely false in principle, certain as it is that the merely not being convinced (nicht-überzeugt-sein) is no denial, it is equally certain that we have actually no choice; we should be compelled to regard every negative judgment as a positive judgment with a positive predicate. So we arrive at a second and greater paradox.

But here a third factor enters which completes the confusion. If we examine Sigwart’s view as to the nature of judgment in general, it may be shown in the clearest manner possible that the simple positive judgment itself involves in turn, a negative judgment. That is to say, following Sigwart, every judgment involves besides a certain combination of ideas, a consciousness of the necessity of our “identification” (unseres Einssetzens) and the impossibility of its contradictory (cf. espec. p. 102), the consciousness, moreover, of such a necessity and impossibility valid for all thinking beings (cf. pp. 102 and 107), which, by the way, is of course quite as false as Sigwart’s whole view of the nature of judgment in general. All judgments without exception are, on account of this peculiarity, called by Sigwart apodictic: nor will he admit the validity of any distinction between the assertorical and apodictic forms of judgment (cf. p. 229 seq.). I now ask: Have we not here a negative judgment distinctly involved? Otherwise what meaning can be given to the statement when we hear Sigwart speak of a “consciousness of the impossibility of the contradictory.” Further I have already shown in my _Psychology_ how all universal judgments are negative, since to be conscious of universality means nothing else than to be convinced that there exists no exception; if this negative be not added, the most extensive list of positive assertions will never constitute a belief in universality. When therefore, a consciousness that every one must so think is here spoken of, there is in this fact a further proof of what I have asserted, namely that according to Sigwart’s doctrine of judgment the simplest positive acts of judgment must involve a negative act of judgment. And yet we are called upon at the same time to believe that the negative judgment, as set forth (p. 159 seq.), arose relatively late, and that therefore on this, as well as on other grounds, it is unworthy of being placed side by side, with the positive judgment as a species equally primordial! Sigwart would surely not have expected this of us had he been conscious of all that I have here set forth in detail, and which is the more clearly seen to be involved in his exposition, often so difficult to comprehend the more carefully it is submitted to reflection. Of course expressions may be found where Sigwart, respecting this or that point of detail, asserts the contrary of what is here deduced; for what else can be expected where everything is left in such ambiguity, and where the attempt to make things clear exhibits the most manifold contradictions?

3. Finally, we have still to show the genesis of the error in which this able logician has involved himself in a relatively simple question after having once mistaken the nature of the judgment. The _proton pseudos_ is to be sought in a delusion which has come down to us from the older logic that to the essence of the judgment there belongs the relation of two ideas with one another. Aristotle has described this relation as combination and separation (σύνθεσις καἰ διαίρεσις) although he was well aware of the imperfect propriety of the expressions, adding at the same time that in a certain sense both relations might be described as a combination (σύνθεσις, cf. _de Anima_, iii. 6). Scholastic and modern logic held fast to the expressions “combination” and “separation”; in grammar, however, both these relations were termed “combination,” and the symbol for this combination the “copula.” Sigwart now takes seriously the expressions “combination” and “separation,” and so a negative copula seems to him a contradiction (cf. p. 153), the positive judgment, on the other hand, appears to be a presupposition of the negative judgment, since, before a combination has been set up, it cannot be separated. And so it appears to him that a negative judgment without a preceding positive judgment is quite meaningless (cf. p. 150 and above). Consequently we find this celebrated inquirer in a position which compels him to put forth the most strenuous efforts all to no purpose--the negative judgment remains inexplicable.

In a note (p. 159) he gives us, as a result of such attempts, a remarkable description of the process by which we arrive at the negative judgment--a result in which he believes himself finally able to rest satisfied. In this account the false steps which he successively makes become, each in turn, evident to the attentive observer. Long before the point is reached where he believes himself to have come upon the negative judgment, he has as a matter of fact already anticipated it.

He sets out with the correct observation that the first judgments which we make are all positive in character. These judgments are evident and made with full confidence. “Now, however,” he continues, “our thought goes out beyond the given; by the aid of recollections and associations, judgments arise which are at first also formed in the belief that they express reality” (which means, according to other expressions of Sigwart, that the ideas are combined with the consciousness of objective validity; for this (xiv. p. 98) belongs to the essence of the judgment) “as, for example, when we expect to find something with which we are acquainted in its usual place or pre-suppose respecting a flower that it smells. Now, however, a part of what is thus supposed _contradicts_ our immediate knowledge.” (We leave Sigwart to show here how we are able to recognize anything as “contradictory” when we are not as yet in possession of negative judgments and negative notions. The difficulty becomes still more sharply apparent as he proceeds:) “when we do _not find_ what we expected, we become conscious of the _difference_ between what exists _merely_ in idea and what is real.” (What does “not find” mean here? I had not found it previously; obviously I now find that what was erroneously supposed to be associated with another object is _without_ it, and this I can only do by recognizing the one and denying the other, i.e. recognize it as _not_ being with it. Further what is meant here by “difference”? To recognize difference means to recognize that of two things the one is _not_ the other. What is meant by existing “merely in idea”? Manifestly, “what exists in idea which is _not_ at the same time also real.” It would seem, however, that Sigwart is still unaware that in what he is describing the negative function of the judgment is already more than once involved. He continues:) “That of which we are immediately certain is _another_ than that” (i.e. it is not the same, it is indeed absolutely incompatible with that) “which we have judged in anticipation, and now” (i.e. after and since we have already passed all these negative judgments) “appears the negation which annuls the supposition and denies of it validity. _And here a new attitude is involved in so far as the subjective combination is separated from the consciousness of certainty._ The subjective combination is compared with one bearing the stamp of certainty, its distinction therefrom recognized, and out of this arises the notion of invalidity.” This last would almost seem to be a carelessness of expression, for if invalid were to mean as much as “false” and not “uncertain” it could not be derived from the distinction between a combination with and a combination without certainty, but only from the opposition existing between combination which is denied and one which is affirmed. As a matter of fact, the opposite affirmative judgment is not at all necessary to it. The opposition, the incompatibility of the qualities in a real, is already evident on the ground of the combination of ideas representing the opposite qualities which, as I repeat once more, cannot, according to Sigwart himself (p. 89 note; and p. 98 seq.), be called an attempt at positive judgment. Although this may now and again happen in the case of contradictory ideas, it certainly does not happen always. If, for example, the question is put to me: Does there exist a regular chiliagon with 1001 sides? then--assuming that I am not perfectly clear in my own mind, as will be the case with most men, that there does exist a regular chiliagon, I certainly do not attempt to form a judgment (i.e. according to Sigwart, confidently assume) that there exists a regular chiliagon having 1001 sides before forming the negative judgment that no such figure exists on the ground of the opposition between the qualities.

Sigwart himself, as his language frequently betrays (cf. e.g. pp. 152 and 150) recognizes at bottom, as he is bound to recognize, in spite of his attack upon the negative copula, that negation and denial are just as much a special function of the judgment as affirmation and recognition. If this be granted, then the range of their application is by no means so limited as he erroneously asserts. It is false that in every case where a denial takes place the predicate denied is the notion “valid.” Even of a judgment we may deny now its validity, now its certainty, now its _à priori_ character. And just in the same way the subject of the judgment can change most frequently. Of a judgment we may deny certainty, and validity; of a request, modesty; and so in every case, universally expressed, we may deny B of A. Sigwart himself, of course, does this just like any one else. Indeed he sometimes speaks unintentionally far more correctly than his theory would admit, and witnesses, as it were, instinctively to the truth; as, e.g. p. 151, where he declares not--as he elsewhere teaches--that the subject of a negative proposition is always a judgment, and its predicate the term “valid,” but “that of _every subject_ ... _a countless_ _number of predicates may be denied_.” This is certainly true and just on this account the old doctrine holds that affirmation and denial are equally primordial species.

[24] (_p. 15_). The discovery that every act of love is a “pleasing,” every act of hate a “displeasing,” was very near to Descartes when he wrote his valuable little work on _The Affections_. In the second book, _Des Passions_, ii. art. 139, he says: “Lorsque les choses qu’elles (l’amour et la haine) nous portent à aimer sont véritablement bonnes, et celles qu’elles nous portent à haïr, sont véritablement mauvaises, l’amour est incomparablement meilleure que la haine; elle ne saurait être trop grande et elle ne manque jamais de produire la joie”; and this agrees with what he says a little later: “La haine, au contraire ne saurait être si petite qu’elle ne nuise, et elle n’est jamais sans tristesse.”

In ordinary life, however, the expressions “joy” and “sadness,” “pleasure” and “pain” are only used when the pleasure and displeasure have attained a certain degree of liveliness. A sharp boundary in this unscientific division there is not; we may, however, be allowed to make use of it as it stands. It is enough that the expressions, “pleasure” and “displeasure” are not narrowed down by any such limit.

[25] (_p. 16_). The expressions “true” and “false” are employed in a manifold sense; in one sense we employ them in speaking of true and false judgments; again (somewhat modifying the meaning), of objects, as when we say, “a true friend,” “false money.” I need scarcely observe that where I use the expressions “true” and “false” in this lecture, I associate therewith not the first and proper meaning, but rather a metaphorical one having reference to objects. True, is, therefore, what is; false, what is not. Just as Aristotle spoke of “ὂν ὡς ἀληθές” so we might also say, “ἀληθές ὡς ὂν.”

Of truth in its proper sense it has often been said that it is the agreement of the judgment with the object (adequatio rei et intellectus, as the scholastics said). This expression, true in a certain sense, is yet in the highest degree open to misunderstanding, and has led to serious errors. The agreement is regarded as a kind of identity between something contained in the judgment, or in the idea lying at the root of the judgment and something situated without the mind. But this cannot be the meaning here; “to agree” means here rather as much as “to be appropriate,” “to be in harmony with,” “suit,” “correspond.” It is as though in the sphere of feeling one should say, the rightness of love and hate consists in the agreement of the feelings with the object. Properly understood this also would be unquestionably right; whoever loves and hates rightly, has his feelings adequately related to the object, i.e. the relation is appropriate, suitable, corresponds suitably, whereas it would be manifestly absurd were one to believe that in a rightly directed love or hate there was found to be an identity between these feelings or the ideas lying at their root on the one hand, and something lying outside the feelings on the other, an identity which is absent where the attitude of the feelings is unrightly directed. Among other circumstances this misunderstanding has also conduced towards bringing the doctrine of judgment into that sad confusion from which to-day psychology and logic seek with such painful efforts to set themselves free.

The conceptions of existence and non-existence are the correlates of the conceptions of the truth of the (simple) affirmative and negative judgments. Just as to judgment belongs what is judged, to the affirmative judgment what is judged of affirmatively, to the negative judgment, what is judged of negatively, so to the rightness of the affirmative judgment belongs the existence of what is judged of affirmatively, to the rightness of the negative judgment the non-existence of what is judged of negatively; and whether I say an affirmative judgment is true, or, its object is existent; whether I say a negative judgment is true, or its object is non-existent; in both cases I am saying one and the same thing. In the same way, it is essentially one and the same logical principle whether I say, in each case either the (simple) affirmative or negative judgment is true, or, each is either existent or non-existent.

Thus, for example, the assertion of the truth of the judgment, “a man is learned,” is the correlate of the assertion of the existence of the object, “a learned man”; and the assertion of the truth of the judgment, “no stone is alive,” is the correlate of the assertion of the non-existence of its object, “a living stone.” The correlative assertions are here, as everywhere, inseparable. The case is exactly the same as in the assertions A > B and that B < A; that A is the cause of B, and that B is produced by A.

[26] (_p. 16_). The notion of the good, in and for itself, is accordingly a unity in the strict sense, and not, as Aristotle teaches (in consequence of a confusion which we shall have to speak of later) a unity in a merely analogous sense. German philosophers also have failed to grasp the unity of the conception. This is the case with Kant, and, quite recently, with Windelband. There is a defect in our ordinary way of speaking which may prove very misleading to Germans inasmuch as for the opposite of the term “good” there is no common expression current, but this is designated now as “schlimm,” now as “übel,” now as “böse,” now as “arg,” now as “abscheulich,” now as “schlecht,” etc. It might very well, as in similar cases, come to be thought that not only the common name is wanting, but also the common notion. And if the notion is wanting on the one side of the antithesis, it would also be wanting on the other, and so the expression “good” would seem an equivocal term.

Of all the expressions quoted, it seems to me (and philologists also, whose advice I have asked, are of the same opinion), that the expression “schlecht,” like the Latin “malum,” is most applicable as the opposite of the good in its full universality, and in this way I shall allow myself to use this expression in what follows.

The fact that I adhere to the view of a certain common character regarding the intentional relation of love and hate does not debar my recognizing along with this view, special forms for particular cases. If, therefore, “bad” is a truly universal simple class conception, there may yet be distinguished special classes within its domain of which one may be suitably termed “böse,” another “übel,” etc.

[27] (_p. 18_). The distinction between “self-evident” and “blind” judgments is something too striking to have altogether escaped notice. Even the sceptical Hume is very far from denying the distinction. _Self-evidence_, according to him (_Enq. concerning Hum. Underst._ iv.) may be ascribed, on the one hand, to analytic judgments (to which class belong also the axioms of mathematics and the mathematical demonstrations), and, on the other hand, to certain impressions, but not to the so-called truths of experience. Reason does not lead us here, but rather habit, after a manner entirely irrational; belief, in this case is _instinctive_ and _mechanical_ (_ib._ v.).

But to observe a fact does not mean to set forth its nature clearly and distinctly. As the nature of the judgment has, until recent times, been almost universally misunderstood, how could it be possible rightly to understand its self-evidence? It is just here that even Descartes’ discernment fails him. How very closely the phenomenon occupied him a passage in the Meditations bears witness: “Cum hic dico me ita doctum esse a natura (he is speaking of the so-called external impressions) intelligo tantum _spontaneo quodam impetu_ me ferri ad hoc credendum _non lumine aliquo naturali_ mihi ostendi esse verum, quae duo multum discrepant. Nam quaecunque _lumine naturali_ mihi ostenduntur (ut quod ex eo quo dubitem sequatur me esse et similia) nullo modo dubia esse possunt quia nulla alia facultas esse potest, cui aeque fidam ac lumini isti, quaeque illa non vera esse possit docere; sed quantum ad impetus naturales jam saepe olim judicavi me ab illis in deteriorem partem fuisse impulsum cum de bono eligendo ageretur, nec video cur iisdem in ulla alia re magis fidam.”--(Medit. iii.).

That Descartes did not mark the fact of self-evidence, that he did not observe the distinction between intuition and blind judgment certainly cannot be affirmed from the above. But, while separating the judgment as a class from the idea, he still leaves behind in the class of ideas the character of self-evidence which distinguishes the judgments of intuition. It consists, according to him, in a special mark of the perception, that is, of the idea lying at the root of the judgment. Descartes even goes so far as actually to call this act of perception a “cognoscere,” a “knowing.” A “knowing,” that is, and still not an act of judgment! These are rudimentary organs which after the progress made, owing to Descartes, in the doctrine of judgment, remind us of a stage of life in Psychology which has been surmounted; but with this distinction, in opposition to similar phenomena in the history of the development of the species, that these organs, in no way adapted, become in the highest degree troublesome, and render all Descartes’ further efforts for the theory of knowledge ineffective. He remains, to use Leibnitz’ phrase, “in the antechamber of truth” (cf. here note 28, towards the end). Only in this way does Descartes’ clara et distincta perceptio--concerning which term itself it is so difficult to gain a clear and distinct idea--in its curious dual nature become perfectly intelligible. The only means of overcoming this confusion is to seek that which distinguishes insight in opposition to other judgments as an inner quality belonging to the act of insight itself.

It is true that some who have sought here have yet failed to find. We saw (cf. note 23) how Sigwart conceives the nature of the judgment. To this, he teaches, there belongs a relation of ideas to one another, and along with this a feeling of obligation respecting this connexion. (Cf. sections 14 and 31, espec. 4 and 5.) Such a feeling therefore, always exists even in the case of the blindest prejudice. It is then abnormal, but is held (as Sigwart expressly explains) to be normal and of universal validity. And what now in contrast to this case, is given in the case of insight? Sigwart replies that its evidence consists in the same feeling (cf. e.g. section 3) which now, however, is not merely held to be normal and universally valid, but is really normal and universally valid.

It seems to me that the weakness of this theory is at once apparent; and it is on many grounds to be rejected.

1. The peculiar nature of insight, the clearness and evidence of certain judgments from which their truth is inseparable has little or nothing to do with any feeling of compulsion. It may well happen that at a given moment I cannot refrain from so judging, yet none the less the essence of its clearness does not consist in the feeling of compulsion, and no consciousness of an obligation so to judge could, as such, afford security as to its truth. He who disbelieves in every form of indeterminism in respect of judging, regards all judgments under the circumstances in which they were passed as necessary, but he does not--and with indisputable right--regard all of them as on that account true.

2. Sigwart, in seeking the consciousness of insight in a feeling of necessity so to think, asserts that the consciousness of one’s being compelled is, at the same time, a consciousness of a necessity for all thinking beings whenever the same grounds are present. If he means, however, that the one conviction is doubtless connected with the other, this is an error. Why, when a person feels bound to pass a judgment upon certain data, should the same compulsion hold good in respect of every other thinking being to whom the same data are also given? It is obvious that only an appeal to the law of causality which, under like conditions demands like results, could be the ground of the logical connexion. Its application, however, to the present case would be entirely erroneous, since this would involve the ignoring of the special psychical dispositions, which, although they do not directly enter into consciousness at all, must yet be regarded, along with the conscious data, as pre-determining conditions, and these are very different in the case of different persons. Hegel and his school, misled by paralogisms, have denied the principle of contradiction; Trendelenburg, who opposed Hegel, has at least restricted its validity (cf. his _Abhandlungen über Herbarts Metaphysik_). The universal impossibility of inwardly denying the principle which Aristotle asserted cannot therefore, to-day, be any longer defended; Aristotle himself, however, for whom the principle was self-evident, assuredly found its denial impossible.

Whatever is evident to any one is of course certain not only for him, but also for every one else who, in the same way, sees its evidence. The judgment, moreover, which is seen to be evident by any one has also universal validity, i.e. the contradictory of what is seen to be evident by one person, cannot be seen to be evident by another person, and every one who believes in its contradictory is in error. Further, since what is here said belongs to the essence of truth, whoever has evidence of the truth of anything may perceive that he is justified in regarding it as true for all. But he would be guilty of a flagrant confusion of ideas who should regard such a consciousness that a truth is true for all, as equivalent to a consciousness of a universal necessity of thinking.

3. Sigwart involves himself in a multitude of contradictions. He asserts and must assert--if he is not to yield to the sceptics and relinquish his entire logical system--that evident judgments are not merely different from non-evident judgments, but that they are also distinguishable in consciousness. The one class must therefore appear as normal and of universal validity, the other class as not so. But if evident and non-evident judgments alike carry with them the consciousness of universal validity, then the two classes would at first sight exactly agree in the manner in which they present themselves, and only as it were, afterwards (or at the same time, though as a mere concomitant), and by reflection upon some sort of criterion which is applied to them as a standard could the distinction be discovered. And passages are actually to be found in Sigwart where he speaks of a consciousness of agreement with the universal rules which accompany the fully evident judgment. (Cf. e.g. _Logic_, 2nd ed., 39, p. 311.) But apart from the fact that this contradicts experience--for long before the discovery of the syllogism, conclusions were reached syllogistically and with complete evidence--it is also to be rejected inasmuch as, seeing that the rule itself must be assured, it would lead either to an infinite regress, or to a _circulus vitiosus_.

4. Another contradiction with which I have to charge Sigwart (though in my opinion it might have been avoided even after his erroneous view as to the nature of the judgment and as to the nature of self-evidence), we meet with in his doctrine of self-consciousness. The knowledge that I am contains _only_ self-evidence, and this exists independent of any consciousness of an obligation so to think and of a necessity which is common to all alike. (At least I am not able otherwise to understand the passage, _Logic_, 2nd ed., p. 310: “The certainty that I am and think is the absolutely last and fundamental one--the condition of all thinking and certainty at all; here, only immediate evidence can be given; one cannot even say that this thought is necessary, since it is previous to all necessity, and just as immediate and evident is the conscious certainty that I think this or that; it is inextricably interwoven with my self-consciousness; the one is given with the other.”) After Sigwart’s doctrine already examined, this would appear to be a _contradictio in adjecto_ and, as such, quite indefensible.

5. Further contradictions appear in Sigwart’s very peculiar and doubtful doctrine concerning the postulates, which he opposes to the axioms. The latter are to be regarded as certain on the ground of their real intellectual necessity; the former, not on the ground of purely intellectual motives, but on psychological motives of another kind, on the ground of practical needs. (_Logic_, 2nd ed. p. 412 seq.) The law of causality: e.g. is, according to him, not an axiom, but a mere postulate; we regard it as certain, since we find that without affirming it we should not be able to investigate nature. Sigwart, by this mode of accepting the law of causality, that is, affirming, out of mere good-will, that in nature under like conditions, the same results would constantly be forthcoming, manifestly takes it for granted without being conscious of its intellectual necessity. But, if all “taking-as-true” (Fürwahrhalten) is an act of judgment, this is quite incompatible with his views as to the nature of the judgment. Sigwart has here, as far as I can see, but one way of escape, i.e. to confess that he does not believe in what, as a postulate, he accepts as certain (as e.g. the law of causality); then, however, he will be hardly serious in hoping for it.

6. This point becomes still more doubtful on reflection upon what (2) has been previously discussed. The consciousness of a universal necessity of thought does not, according to Sigwart, belong to the postulates, but rather to the axioms. (Cf. 5.) But Sigwart could only with any plausibility exhibit the consciousness of this universal necessity of thinking as operating in the consciousness of one’s personal necessity of thinking by making use of the universal law of causation. But this causal law is itself merely a postulate; it is destitute of self-evidence. It is therefore obvious that the universal thought-necessity in the case of the axioms is also a postulate, and consequently they lose what, according to Sigwart, is their most essential distinction from the postulates. It may perhaps be in accordance with this that Sigwart calls the belief in the trustworthiness of “self-evidence” a postulate. But how the statement so interpreted, can be brought into harmony with the remaining parts of his doctrine I am at a loss to conceive.

7. Sigwart denies (31) the distinction between assertorical and apodictic judgments, since in every judgment the sense of necessity in respect of its function is essential. Consequently this assertion likewise hangs together with his erroneous fundamental view of the judgment; he would appear to identify the feeling which he sometimes calls the feeling of evidence with the apodictic character of a judgment. But it would be quite unjustifiable to overlook the modal peculiarity of certain judgments, as for example, the law of contradiction in distinction from other forms of judgment like that of the consciousness that I am. In the first instance, we have to do with what is “necessarily true or false,” in the second instance only with what is “true or false as a matter of fact,” though both are in the same sense evident and do not differ in respect of their certainty. Only in the case of judgments like the former, not, however, from such as the latter do we draw the notions of impossibility and necessity.

That Sigwart, in opposing the view which regards the apodictic judgment as a special class, also occasionally bears witness against himself is clear from what has been already said (4). The knowledge that I am, he calls, in opposition to the knowledge of an axiom, the knowledge of a simple actual truth (p. 312). Here he speaks more soundly than his general statements would really allow.

Sigwart’s theory of self-evidence is, therefore, essentially false. As in the case of Descartes, so here it cannot be said that Sigwart was not conscious of the phenomenon; indeed, we must rather say in his praise, that with the greatest zeal he has sought to analyze it, but as is the case with many in psychological analysis, it would seem that in the eagerness of analyzing he did not stop at the right point, and has sought to resolve into one another phenomena very distinct in nature.

It is obvious that an error respecting the nature of evidence is fraught with the gravest consequence for the logician. It might well be said that we have here touched upon the deep-seated organic disease in Sigwart’s logic, if this may not rather be said to consist in a misunderstanding of the nature of the judgment in general. Again and again its evil results become manifest, as for example, in Sigwart’s inability to understand the most essential causes of our errors, Cf. _Logic_, vol. i. 2nd ed. p. 103, note, where, with strange partiality he assigns the chief blame to the defective development of our language.

For the rest, many another celebrated logician in recent times can claim no superiority over Sigwart here. As a further example we need only observe how the doctrine of evidence fares at the hands of the admirable J. S. Mill. Cf. note 69, p. 99.

Owing to the great unclearness as to the nature of evidence, almost universal, it becomes conceivable why, as often happens, we meet with the expression “more or less self-evident.” Even Descartes and Pascal use such expressions, although it is clearly quite unsuitable. Whatever is self-evident is certain, and certainty in the real sense knows no distinctions of degree. Even quite recently we find the opinion expressed in the _Vierteljahrsschrift für wissenschaftliche Philosophie_ (and the writer is manifestly quite serious), that there exist _self-evident suppositions_ which, in spite of their self-evidence, may quite well be false. It is unnecessary to add that I hold this to be opposed to reason. I may here, however, express regret that lectures delivered by me at a time when I still regarded degrees of conviction as intensities of judgment, seem to have given an occasion for such confusions.

[28] (_p. 19_). Cf. Hume’s Essay, already cited: _An Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals._ Other philosophers, who have placed the foundation of ethics in the feelings, as e.g. Beneke and Uberweg (who follows him) have seen further than Hume here. (Cf. the presentation of Beneke’s ethics in his _Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophie_, iii.) Herbart comes still nearer to the truth when he speaks of self-evident judgments of taste (these, however, are really not judgments at all, but feelings, and as such are not self-evident, but can only be said to have something analogous to self-evident judgments) and when he further opposes to the merely pleasurable the beautiful, ascribing to the latter as distinct from the former, universal validity and undeniable worth. Unfortunately, there is always something false mixed up with his view, and Herbart loses at once and for ever the right path, so that his ethics in its course diverges much further from the truth than the doctrine of Hume.