FICHTE
Foundations of Transcendental Philosophy
(Wissenschaftslehre) nova methodo
(! 796/99)

Also translated and edited by Daniel Breazeale
Fichte: Early Philosophical Writings
Philosophy and Truth: Selections from
Nietzsche's Notebooks of the Early 1870s

FICHTE
Foundations of
Transcendental Philosophy
(Wissenschaftslehre)Methodo
h 796/99)
TRANSLATED AND EDITED BY
Daniel Breazeale
CORNELL UNIVERSITY PRESS
ITHACA AND LONDON

Cornell University Press gratefully acknowledges a grant from
the National Endowment for the Humanities, an independent
federal agency, and a subvention from The University of Kentucky,
both of which aided in bringing this book to publication.
Copyright © 1992 by Cornell University
All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in a review, this book, or parts
thereof, must not be reproduced in any form without permission in writing
from the publisher. For information, address Cornell University Press,
124 Roberts Place, Ithaca, New York 14850.
First published 1992 by Cornell University Press.
International Standard Book Number 0-8014-2767-3
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 92-52745
Printed in the United States of America
Librarians: Library of Congress cataloging information
appears on the last page of the book.
© The paper in this book meets the minimum requirements
of the American National Standard for Information Sciences—
Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.

For Rebecca Cecile
(finally)

CONTENTS
Acknowledgments	ix
Editor’s Introduction	1
Principles of the Edition and Translation	50
German/English Glossary	55
Abbreviations	61
Key to Symbols and Notes	62
The Major Points of the Wissenschaftslehre of 1798—1799	65
First Introduction	77
Second Introduction	87
§ 1
108
§ 2
121
§ 3
139
§ 4
147
§ 5
154
§ 6
167
§ 7
187
§ 8
204
§ 9
224
§ 10
234
§ 11
250
§ 12
258
§ 13
277
§ 14
3°8
§ »5
332
§ 16
344
§ 17
354
§ 18
426
§ 19
446
[ vii]

Vlll Contents
Deduction of the Subdivisions of the Wissenschaftslehre
Bibliography
Index
467
475
481

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This translation project was begun in Munich in 1985/86 under the
auspices of a Senior Research Fellowship from the Alexander von Hum¬
boldt Foundation and was further facilitated by grants from the Univer¬
sity of Kentucky and the Southern Regional Education Board. Final
revisions were made possible by a grant from the National Endowment
for the Humanities, an independent federal agency.
For research assistance and access to original manuscripts, I am grate¬
ful to the directors and staff of the J. G. Fichte Archive and the Bavarian
Academy of the Sciences. I also thank Felix Meiner Verlag and Friedrich
Frommann Verlag (Gunther Holzboog), publishers of the two German
editions of Fichte’s Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo, for permission to
translate these texts into English.
Most of all, I would like to acknowledge my personal debt to the fol¬
lowing individuals: Reinhard Lauth, who originally encouraged me to
embark upon this project, read the entire first draft of my translation,
and has remained an invaluable source of expert guidance and advice;
Erich Fuchs, who furnished me with essential philological and editorial
information concerning both the manuscripts and the published texts of
Fichte’s lectures; Ives Radrizzani, whose outstanding French translation
of the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo frequently served as a guide to spe¬
cific questions concerning the translation and interpretation of the Ger¬
man texts; Frederick Neuhouser, who read much of the second draft of
the translation and made many useful suggestions that have been incor¬
porated into this final version; Anthony N. Perovich, Jr., for his valuable
corrections to the Editor’s Introduction; Robert Rabel, for much-needed
advice on the translation of passages from Latin and Greek; Leonard
Peters, Acting Vice President for Research and Graduate Studies at the
University of Kentucky, for his generous support of the publication of
this volume; Yolanda Estes, for welcome editorial assistance; and finally,
[ix]

x Acknowledgments
Wolfgang Natter, whose patient and insightful corrections of the final
draft of the translation were absolutely essential to the completion of
this project.
The extraordinary generosity with which these friends and colleagues
have shared with me their time, their energy, and their expertise has
been an unfailing source of encouragement and inspiration over the
past five years. It is no exaggeration to say that without the support and
assistance of the above-mentioned agencies, institutions, and individuals
this book would never have seen the light of day.
D. B.
Lexington, Kentucky

FICHTE
Foundations of Transcendental Philosophy
(Wissenschaftslehre) nova methodo
i1796/99)

EDITOR S INTRODUCTION
PART I
The Origin and Publication of the First Presentation
of the Basic Principles of the Wissenschaftslehre
In the spring of 1794 Fichte chose “Wissenschaftslehre,” a word com¬
posed of the terms for “science” (or “scientific knowledge”) and “theory”
(or “doctrine”), to designate his own, radically revised version of the
transcendental or “Critical” philosophy inaugurated by Immanuel Kant.
While conceding that his own version departed in many respects from
the “letter” of the Kantian exposition, Fichte insisted that his new sys¬
tem—for all its novelty—was nevertheless true to the “spirit” of tran¬
scendental idealism.1
Fichte arrived at his new philosophical standpoint during the preced¬
ing winter, in the course of a full-scale reexamination of the Kantian
philosophy. The occasion for this reexamination was a review he had
agreed to write for the Allgemeine Literatur-Zeitung of an anonymously
published attack on the Critical philosophy by “Aenesidemus,” a self-
described Humean skeptic. The book was widely recognized to be the
work of a former classmate of Fichte’s, G. E. Schulze (1761-1833), pro¬
fessor of philosophy at Helmstedt. True to its title, Aenesidemus, or con¬
cerning the Foundations of the Elementary Philosophy Propounded in Jena by
Professor Reinhold, including a Defense of Skepticism against the Pretensions of
the Critique of Pure Reason,2 this lengthy work examined and criticized not
1	For Fichte’s own interpretation of the relationship of his philosophy to Kant’s, see,
above all, the “Second Introduction” to An Attempt at a New Presentation of the Wissenschafts¬
lehre (1797). In SW, I: 453-518 = AA I, 4: 209-69; English translation by John Lachs,
“Second Introduction to the Science of Knowledge,” in SK, pp. 29-85. See list of abbre¬
viations, p. 61.
2	Aenesidemus oder iiber die Fundamente der von dem Herrn Professor Reinhold in Jena geliefer-
ten Elementar-Philosophie: Nebst einer Vertheidigung des Skepticismus gegen die Anmassungen der
Vemunftkritik (n.p.: n.p., 1792). For an English translation of an excerpt from Aenesidemus,
see Between Kant and Hegel: Texts in the Development of Post-Kantian Idealism, ed. George di
[l]

2
Editor’s Introduction
only Kant’s own writings, but also the radically revised “system” of tran¬
scendental idealism developed by K. L. Reinhold under the name
Elementarphilosophie.* 3 Though Fichte had considered himself a Kantian
ever since his first exposure to the Critique of Pure Reason in the summer
of 1790 and had also been profoundly influenced by Reinhold’s project
of recasting the Critical philosophy as a rigorous system based upon a
single first principle, he had nevertheless come to harbor growing
doubts concerning the adequacy of any of the existing presentations of
transcendental philosophy. It was perhaps for this reason that Aenesi-
demus was the first work he asked to review after being invited to become
a regular contributor to the influential Allgemeine Literatur-Zeitung: in
order to defend the Critical philosophy against Schulze’s attack he
would, as he no doubt realized, first have to confront and allay his own
doubts concerning this same philosophy.
Fortunately for Fichte, the task of reviewing Aenesidemus coincided
with one of the rare periods of genuine leisure that he was ever to enjoy,
the months immediately following his wedding in October 1793. Fichte
and his bride spent the following winter and spring in Zurich, in the
home of his new father-in-law, Hartmann Rahn,4 and it was thanks to
this opportunity that the young philosopher was, for the first time in his
life, able to devote himself solely to philosophical reflection for an ex¬
tended period. Accordingly, he turned the task of preparing his review
into an occasion for reexamining his own previous philosophical com¬
mitments and for formulating a new systematic strategy of his own.5 * *Giovanni and H. S. Harris (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1985), pp. 104—35.
Regarding Schulze’s skepticism, see Frederick C. Beiser, The Fate of Reason: German Philos-
ophy from Kant to Fichte (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1987), pp. 266-84.
3	Concerning Reinhold’s “Elementary Philosophy” or “Philosophy of the Elements,” see
Beiser, The Fate of Reason, pp. 226-65, ancl Daniel Breazeale, “Between Kant and Fichte:
Karl Leonhard Reinhold’s ‘Elementary Philosophy,’” Review of Metaphysics 35 (1982):
785-821-
4	Fichte first met his future wife, Johanna Rahn, while he was employed as a private tu¬
tor in Zurich in 1788/89, immediately before he spent three years in Leipzig, Königsberg,
and Warsaw. It was during the period between his first and second stays in Zurich that he
not only became acquainted with Kant’s writings, but also became personally acquainted
with the author himself. By the time Fichte returned to Zurich in the summer of 1793, he
had already begun to establish a literary reputation for himself on the basis of the aston¬
ishing success of his first book, the Attempt at a Critique of All Revelation and because of the
controversy surrounding his (anonymously published) writings on the French Revolution
and freedom of thought. For information concerning Fichte’s career and writings before
1800, see Daniel Breazeale, “Fichte in Jena,” editor’s introduction to EPW.
5	Fichte’s “Rezension des Aenesidemus” eventually appeared in February 1794 in Allge¬
meine Literatur-Zeitung (SW, I: 1—25 = AA I, 2: 41-67; English translation in EPW, pp. 59-
77). Concerning the significance of this text, see Daniel Breazeale, “Fichte’s Aenesidemus
Review and the Transformation of German Idealism,” Review of Metaphysics 34 (1981):
545-68.

Editor’s Introduction
Thus it was in the context of a detailed, private reconsideration of
Reinhold’s system that Fichte first articulated the general outlines of
his own systematic presentation of transcendental idealism. Two of its
most striking features were (1) a clear-sighted recognition of the role of
“practical reason” in the constitution of all experience, including its
“theoretical” portion (that is, the portion that includes our everyday, as
well as scientific, knowledge of the external world); and (2) an insistence
that the sole adequate starting point for a “scientific” system of philos¬
ophy could only be the self-positing activity of the I.6 Not until after he
had arrived at this new standpoint did he find what he considered to be
an appropriate name for it: Wissenschaftslehre, or “theory of scientific
knowledge.”7
In the midst of this fruitful engagement with the writings of Reinhold
and Kant, Fichte received an unexpected invitation to succeed Reinhold
at Jena, beginning in the summer semester of 1794. His initial response
to this remarkable offer, which he was certainly in no position to decline,
was to request a postponement in assuming the post, on the grounds
that it would be inappropriate for him to embark upon his new career
without first possessing a well-articulated system of his own to “profess.”
To be sure, Fichte believed that he had already discovered the starting
point and even the main outlines of such a system; yet, as he confessed
in a letter to Reinhold of March 1, 1794, he also realized that “it is still
far from being clear enough to communicate.” When his request for a
postponement was denied, Fichte believed that he had no other choice
but to try to force his new system into some sort of communicable
form, no matter how provisional. Thus, barely three months after his
6	See, above all, the fascinating, unpublished document prepared by Fichte for his own
use during this period, “Eigne Meditationen über ElementarPhilosophie/Practische Phi¬
losophie” (AA II, 3: 19-266). Concerning its relationship to Fichte’s subsequent develop¬
ment, see Reinhold Lauth, “Genèse du ‘Fondement de toute la doctrine de la science’ de
Fichte à partir de ses ‘Méditations personnelles sur l’élémentarphilosophie,’ ” Archives de
Philosophie 34 (1971): 51-79, a German version of which, “Die Entstehung von Fichtes
‘Grundlage der gesammten Wissenschaftslehre’ nach den ‘Eignen Meditationen über El-
ementarPhilosophie,’ ” is included in Lauth’s Transzendentale Entwicklungslinien von Descartes
bis zu Marx und Dostojewski (Hamburg: Meiner, 1989), pp. 155-79. See too Peter Bau¬
manns, Fichtes Wissenschaftslehre: Probleme ihres Anfangs (Bonn: Bouvier, 1974), pp. 80—97.
Compare this, however, with Fichte’s own later account of the “sudden” nature of his
new discovery, as reported by Henrick Steffens and by Fichte’s nephew, Eduard Fichte,
and quoted in Fichte im Gespräch, ed. Erich Fuchs, 5 vols. (Stuttgart—Bad Cannstatt:
Frommann-Holzboog, 1978-), I: 63-64; English translation in EPW, pp. 12-13. Note too
that Fichte himself sometimes claimed that the “basic insight” of the Wissenschaftslehre was
discovered several years earlier, during his brief stay in Königsberg. See, e.g., the version
of this “discovery” reported in § 6 of the “Second Introduction to the Wissenschaftslehre”
(SW, I: 473 = AA I, 4: 25-26).
7	The name first appears in Fichte’s March 1, 1794, letter to Karl Böttiger, in which he
explains that the purpose of this name is to distinguish his system from the mere “love of
knowledge,” or “philosophy.” Fichte’s letters, which are here cited by date and recipient,
are published in Reihe III of A A.

4 Editor’s Introduction
comment to Reinhold, he was installed at Jena, where he did his best to
present the basic principles of his new system to his students.
As a result of these events, Fichte had to compress into a few months’
time the work of system building to which he had originally intended to
dedicate several years of “uninterrupted leisure.” The first opportunity
to attempt to communicate his new systematic standpoint was not long
in coming, thanks to an invitation he received to deliver a series of in¬
formal lectures to his friends and associates in Zurich. These lectures,
which deserve to be called the first public presentation of the Wissen¬
schaftslehre, took place in the late winter and early spring of 1794.8 He
himself created the next occasion to articulate some of the outlines of his
new position by deciding to write a short book designed to furnish pro¬
spective students at Jena with a general description of his enterprise and
with an account of how such a philosophy was meant to relate to every¬
day life and to other forms of knowledge. This “invitational” work, titled
Concerning the Concept of the Wissenschaftslehre or of So-called Philosophy, was
published in Jena in May 1794, just before Fichte arrived there.9
Fichte had originally intended to offer during his first semester at
Jena, in addition to his public lectures titled “Duties of Scholars,”10 two
private courses:11 one on “theoretical” and one on “practical” philoso¬
phy. He immediately abandoned this plan as overly ambitious, however,
and concentrated instead upon presenting the “theoretical” portion of
his new system, along with its first principles.
In planning his lectures on “theoretical philosophy,” Fichte was free to
proceed as he pleased. As occupant of a chair devoted to “Critical phi¬
losophy,” he might well have chosen to base his lectures upon readings
from the published works of Kant or Reinhold. Or he might have dis¬
pensed with a text altogether and simply lectured from his own notes.
Instead, he decided to write his own text; or, more precisely, he decided
to have the text of his lectures printed and distributed to his students
8No text of the body of these lectures has survived, though the concluding lecture was
published by Fichte himself under the title Ueber die Würde des Menschen (SW, I: 412-16 =
A A I, 2: 83-89; English translation, “Concerning Human Dignity,” in EPW, pp. 83-86).
9	Ueber den Begriff der Wissenschaftslehre oder der sogannten Philosophie (SW, I: 29—
81 = A A I, 2: 107-63; English translation in EPW, 94—135). Note that though the work
itself is about the Wissenschaftslehre (rather than a presentation of it), the original edition
concluded with a brief “hypothetical account” of the overall structure of the new system.
10	The first five of these lectures were published in 1794 under the title Einige Vorlesun¬
gen über die Bestimmung des Gelehrten (SW, VI: 291-346 = AA I, 3: 25-68; English trans¬
lation, “Some Lectures Concerning the Scholar’s Vocation,” in EPW, pp. 144-84).
11	In contrast with their public lectures, which were free and open to the entire univer¬
sity community, professors at Jena (as at other German universities) also offered private
classes, which were open only to officially enrolled, tuition-paying students. By law, pro¬
fessors were forbidden from exempting any student from this tuition charge (unless the
student in question had been officially certified as indigent). Nevertheless, according to an
anonymous report, Fichte routinely violated this law and never turned away a student be¬
cause he was unable to pay the honorarium. See Fuchs, ed., Fichte im Gespräch, II: 101.

Editor’s Introduction 5
before each class, in order, as he explained, to allow his listeners to give
their full attention to the topic at hand, without having to worry about
making notes. According to the original plan, these printed pages were
to be distributed solely to the students attending Fichte’s private lectures
on theoretical philosophy and were not intended to be circulated among
the general public.12
Since the events and projects of the spring had left Fichte little time to
prepare his lectures, he found himself in the difficult position of having
to compose them as the semester progressed. Moreover, each portion of
the manuscript had to be delivered to the printer far enough in advance
so that the printed fascicles were available before the corresponding
class meeting. The disadvantages of this method of composition became
apparent to the author almost at once, leading him to complain that “no
sooner had one sheet been read through than another had to appear,
and thus I was forced to let it appear.”13
Indeed, it is difficult to imagine less congenial circumstances for the
preparation and publication of a major philosophical treatise. In the
years to come, Fichte himself frequently referred to these same exten¬
uating circumstances to explain various shortcomings in the Foundations
of the Entire Wissenschaftslehre, which is the title he gave to the printed ver¬
sion of his 1794/95 lectures.14 By midsummer of 1794 he was already
apologizing to an old friend:
I am glad that you liked the style in which the invitational work [Concerning
the Concept of the Wissenschaftslehre] was written. Still, it makes me a bit uneasy
that you concentrate so much upon the style. This text, and especially the
preface to the same, was not written all at once; in order to do be able to do
this, one must have made the material entirely one’s own, so that one can
simply play with it and can freely bear the chains of the system, as if they
were not chains at all. I have not mastered my own system in this manner,
12	See the previously mentioned letter to Bottiger, March 1, 1794: “I can now see for
myself something I have known for some time: namely, how inconvenient for teacher and
student alike it is to have to lecture without a textbook. This only serves to encourage the
sort of thoughtless note-taking I would like to abolish entirely—at least so far as my own
lectures are concerned. None of the available texts by Kant or Reinhold suits my purpose,
nor can I write a textbook of my own between now and the end of next month. Thus the
following expedient occurred to me: what if I were to distribute my textbook in install¬
ments during the course as a manuscript for the use of my listeners (since I absolutely wish to
delay for a few years any presentation of my system for the public at large)? In any event,
I would like to defy the usual sneers with which printed texts that are supposed to be
treated as manuscripts are greeted. Isn’t this the same as when a professor reads from his
own lecture notes? In order to show that I am serious about this, the text should not be pub¬
lished in a regular trade edition at all, but should be distributed only on my instructions to my
students and others whom I might designate to receive it.”
13	Fichte to Goethe, September 30, 1794.
14	Grundlage der gesamten Wissenschaftslehre [henceforth GWL] (SW, I: 86-328 = AA I, 2:
251-461; translated into English as “Foundations of the Entire Science of Knowledge” by
Peter Heath in SK, pp. 89-286).

6 Editor’s Introduction
however, and it will be difficult for me ever to accomplish this, for it is pro¬
found. Nevertheless, I will wait for this to happen and will devote effort to
the task. Concerning this same point, you will not be satisfied with the text¬
book I am now writing (which you can read when you arrive). To be sure, I
could have written better, but I had to let it go as it stood, since the printer
needed the manuscript and I needed a text for my lectures.15
For some reason (quite possibly the welcome prospect of income from
sales),16 17 Fichte soon abandoned his original resolve not to issue a public
edition of his printed lectures. Accordingly, in September 1794, the first
half of the Foundations of the Entire Wissenschaftslehre (Parts I and II) was
publicly advertised and offered for sale by the Jena firm of Christian Gab¬
ler, albeit with a title page that included the note “a manuscript for the
use of his students.”
In the winter semester of 1794/95 Fichte offered two private courses:
one in which he dealt with the “practical” portion of his new system
(Part III of the Foundations) and another devoted to “specifically theo¬
retical” aspects of the Wissenschaftslehre.17 It appears that in these courses
he continued his practice of having his text printed and distributed in
installments to his students. In any case, by midsummer of 1795 both
these two new texts (Part III of the Foundations, as well as the Outline of
the Distinctive Character of the Wissenschaftslehre with Respect to the Theo¬
retical Faculty) were available for public distribution and sale,18 though,
15	Letter to F. A. Weisshuhn, July 1794. The same point is repeated in other letters of
the period. See, e.g., Fichte’s letter to Goethe of June 21, 1794, as well as his July 2, 1795,
letter to Reinhold, in which he begs his correspondent to “bear in mind that what you have
received so far is a manuscript for the use of my students. It was hastily written while I was
busy with my lectures (in the winter semester I had three lecture courses, all of which had
to be worked out almost completely) and with a thousand other diverse activities. I had to
see that the written sheets came to an end at the same time as the lectures.”
16	See the comment in Fichte’s May 26, 1794, letter to his wife, in which, after complain¬
ing about his meager income, he went on to express his hopes of earning some additional
money from his writings. After reporting that he was engaged “in writing a book for my
lectures,” he added that he had just received from his publisher a payment of “2 '/* louis
d’or = 21 Zurich florins” for the first pages. A bit later in the same paragraph Fichte said
he hoped to earn as much as 500 florins from his literary activities during the first se¬
mester. By June 14—17, 1794, in another letter to Johanna, he had already raised the es¬
timate of how much he expected to earn from his textbook to “600 florins.” In this same
letter he also divulged his plans to write two more texts (“Lehrbücher”—Pt. Ill of the Foun¬
dations and the Outline of the Distinctive Character of the "Wissenschaftslehre with Respect to the
Theoretical Faculty) during the winter semester, the income from which would, he antici¬
pated, alleviate his precarious financial situation. From these passages it appears, first of
all, that Fichte almost immediately abandoned his original plan not to publish the Grund¬
lage, and second, that purely financial considerations played at least some role in this
decision.
17	Grundriß des Eigentümlichen der Wissenschaftslehre in Rüksicht auf das theoretische Vermögen
[henceforth GEWL] (SW, I: 331—411 = AA I, 3: 137—208; English translation in EPW, pp.
243-306).
*8 A one-volume edition of the Foundations, including all three parts, plus the preface to
the whole, originally issued along with Part III, was published by Gabler in September

Editor’s Introduction 7
once again, their title pages bore the somewhat unconvincing disclaimer
that they were “manuscripts for the use of his students.” This caveat was
repeated in the general preface to the Foundations, in which the author
began with the reminder that “this book was not really intended for the
public” and then went on to confess:
I myself declare this presentation to be extremely imperfect and defective:
in part, because it had to be published in individual fascicles, as I needed it
for my lectures, and for the use of my students, where I could augment it
through verbal presentation; and in part, because I have sought, insofar as
possible, to avoid any fixed terminology—which is the easiest way for liter-
alists to rob any system of its spirit and to transform it into a dried-out skel¬
eton. I shall remain true to this maxim in future revisions of the system,
until I have arrived at the final and complete presentation of it.19 20From the very beginning, therefore, Fichte considered the Foundations
nothing more than a provisional exposition of the first principles of the
Wissenschaftslehre and anticipated that it would soon be replaced by a
more adequate exposition.
This point was reinforced by the advertisement (almost certainly writ¬
ten by Fichte himself) for the first half of the Foundations, in which the
following passage occurs:
The author believes he owes it to the public to declare explicitly that the
present work, which stems from his lectures, is incomplete in his own eyes.
It will still be several years before he can hope to present this work to the
public in a worthy form. Until then, he requests that the book be considered
no more than a manuscript the author had printed for the convenience of
his students, considering that preferable to having them copy it down as he
lectured. It is for this reason that he is reluctant to see it submitted to public
• • •	90
criticism.
Nevertheless, by the fall of 1795 readers all over the German-speaking
world were able to purchase and to study what everyone began referring
to simply as “Fichte’s Wissenschaftslehre.” Fichte himself, however, never
intended these published lectures to be an adequate presentation of his
entire system; on the contrary, as the very title of the Foundations de¬
clares, this work is merely a presentation of the “foundations” or “first
principles” of a much larger system, whereas the Outline (which attempts
!795. Note that Fichte himself always treated the Outline as an integral part of the system
sketched out in the Foundations. Hence, when a second edition of the latter was finally pub¬
lished in 1802, it appeared in a single volume along with the Outline.
19	SW, I: 87 = AA I, 2: 252.
20	This advertisement first appeared in the October 1, 1794, “Intelligenzblatt” of the
Allgemeine Literatur-Zeitung and is reprinted in A A I, 2: 183.

8 Editor’s Introduction
to derive from these first principles what Fichte took to be the assump¬
tions of the Critique of Pure Reason, namely, space, time, and the manifold
of sensible intuition) represents an extension into the narrower field of
“theoretical philosophy.” Accordingly, for the next few semesters Fichte
turned his attention almost exclusively to the elaboration of the “prac¬
tical” portions of his system—specifically, to an examination and pre¬
sentation of its implications for the theory of “natural right” (or natural
law) and for ethics.21
Fichte’s Dissatisfaction with the Foundations of
the Entire Wissenschaftslehre
As we have seen, Fichte’s own doubts concerning the published Foun¬
dations were apparent from the start, and these personal misgivings were
quickly confirmed by the public criticism—indeed, ridicule—to which
the work was subjected. Fichte’s typical response toward any criticism of
his system was to attribute it either to personal animosity or to sheer mis¬
understanding, and he seldom hesitated to blame the latter on the pro¬
fessional incapacities or moral failings of his critics. Nor did he consider
failures of understanding to be limited to his adversaries; for, as he soon
came to realize, some of the most serious and fateful misreadings of his
philosophy were to be found among the more enthusiastic supporters
and exponents of the Wissenschaftslehre.22
Fichte always displayed a starkly ambivalent attitude toward his read¬
ers and toward what he considered to be the failure of friends and foes
alike to understand and to appreciate his project—if not the execution
thereof. Often, he appeared thoroughly exasperated by what seemed to
him his readers’ almost willful failure to understand his writings, which
21	See the two systematic treatises Fichte prepared during the period 1795/97, treatises
that, like the Grundlage, originated as private lecture courses: Grundtage des Naturrechts
nach Principien der Wissenschaftslehre, published in two parts in 1796 and 1797 (SW, III: 1—
385 = AA I, 3: 313-460 and AA I, 4: 5-165) and Das System der Sittenlehre nach den Prin¬
cipien der Wissenschaftslehre (5VV, IV: 1—365 = AA I, 5: 19—317). Both these important
works were translated (albeit very inadequately) into English by A. E. Kroeger in the pre¬
vious century: The Science of Rights (Philadelphia: Lippincott, 1869) and The Science of Ethics
as Based on the Science of Knowledge (London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Triibner, 1897).
22	See, e.g., the following passage from an unfinished and unpublished essay written
during the fall of 1800, in which Fichte attempted to take stock of the public reception of
his philosophy: "The Foundations of the [Entire] Wissenschaftslehre [ . . . ] is useless, at least for
those who have spoken in public about it. For, as I gather from almost all public judgments
of my philosophy and from the reproaches of opponents who actually want the very same
thing that I do, as well as from the objections to my philosophy and from the new efforts
that are devoted to philosophy, no one yet possesses any knowledge whatsoever of what I
am attempting to do. And anyone who does not already know this and has not learned it from
the previously mentioned writings and treatises must necessarily misunderstand the Foun¬
dations completely, in which case the approval that this work has received here and there
is an even worse sign than the disapproval it has encountered” (AA II, 5: 438).

Editor’s Introduction 9
he defended as perfectly adequate in their own right. Sometimes, as in
the unpublished “Report on the Concept of the Wissenschaftslehre and
the Fate of the Same so far” of 1806, he defended his first presentation
in just these terms;23 more often, however, he displayed a more chari¬
table attitude toward the readers of this work and assumed at least part
of the responsibility for what he considered to be the well-nigh universal
failure of readers to understand the Foundations of the Entire Wissen¬
schaftslehre. Rather than defend the Foundations, he more often directed
those who raised questions or objections concerning it to his other writ¬
ings, even as he continued to chide his critics for failing to heed his
warning that the work in question was “never intended for anyone”
beyond his own students.24 Ironically, Fichte’s published and unpub¬
lished writings contain a far greater number of negative comments
about this, his most famous and influential book, than about anything
else he wrote.
In attempting to account for the failure of the Foundations, Fichte
tended to blame certain defects in the manner of presentation he had
adopted in it. For example, in the preface to the first installment of his
Attempt at a New Presentation of the Wissenschaftslehre (1797), immediately
after rejecting all public criticism of his system as based upon nothing
more than sheer misunderstanding, he added: “I am willing to bear all
the blame for the latter, until such time as people have had an oppor¬
tunity to become acquainted with the contents of my system in some
other form, in which case they may find that the original presentation is
not so totally inaccessible after all.”25
Consistent with this self-criticism, Fichte lost no opportunity during
the next several years to rectify the inadequacies of his first presentation
and to deflect attention from the Foundations. In pursuit of this aim, he
directly addressed various criticisms and misunderstandings in a series
of polemical essays, some of which include brilliant summaries of the
overall gist and strategy of the Wissenschaftslehre.26 Furthermore, he
prefaced each of the two major systematic works he published in the
23	“The old presentation [the Foundations] is good and sufficient for the time being.”
Bericht iiber den Begriff der Wissenschaftslehre und die bisherigen Schicksale derselben (SW, VIII:
368).
24	“What have you found unsatisfactory in my previous presentation of the Wissen¬
schaftslehre} Surely not the principles? If you are dissatisfied with the manner of deduction,
and if you are speaking of the published Foundations, then you are quite right to find much
that is unsatisfactory. This text was never intended for anyone but my own students.
Friend and foe alike have generally overlooked this” (Fichte to Schmidt, March 17, 1799).
25	SW, I: 420 = AA I, 4: 184.
26	An especially noteworthy example is provided by the Vergleichung des vom Herrn Prof.
Schmid aufgestellten Systems mit der Wissenschaftslehre, which Fichte published in the Philo-
sophisches Journal in the spring of 1796 (SW, II: 421-58 = AA I, 3: 235-66; partial English
translation, “A Comparison between Prof. Schmid’s System and the Wissenschaftslehre,” in
EPW, pp. 316-40).

IO
Editor’s Introduction
next few years (the Foundations of Natural Right and the System of Ethical
Theory) with succinct reformulations of the basic tenets of his philosophy.
Such essays and passages, however, were never intended to be any¬
thing more than provisional measures, temporary means for correcting
the public’s judgment of the Wissenschaftslehre until such time as he could
replace the first, inadequate presentation of the foundations of the same
with a more adequate and less easily misunderstood new presentation.
Thus he frequently announced his intention to provide, at the first op¬
portunity, an entirely new presentation in his private lectures.27 28Before turning to these new lectures, however, let us pause to consider
more closely the nature of Fichte’s dissatisfaction with his previous pre¬
sentation. What did he consider to be defective about the Foundations,
and how did he himself account for these shortcomings?
The chief shortcoming of the first presentation of the foundations of
the Wissenschaftslehre, according to its author, was a lack of systematic
unity. “It gives off sparks of spirit,” he confessed to Reinhold, “but it is
not a single flame.”20 In other words, his complaint concerned the form
rather than the content of the presentation (though, of course, for any¬
one who attaches as much importance to “systematic form” as Fichte
did, this is by no means an inconsequential objection).
Fichte offered a variety of explanations for the formal inadequacy of
the Foundations and the defective character of its presentation. First of
all, as we have already seen, he called attention to the (admittedly self-
imposed) external pressure he was under at the time, and specifically, to
the deleterious effect of the deadlines dictated by the printer. And in¬
deed, one would expect that a work written under such circumstances,
in which the separate pages went to the printer before the ink had had
time to dry and the first sections were printed and circulated before
the later ones were even drafted, might well display a certain lack of for¬
mal unity.
Second, he called attention to the fact that the Foundations was written
at a time when the “discovery” of the Wissenschaftslehre was still fresh (if
not still under way) and when the basic outlines, to say nothing of the
details, of his system were not yet firmly fixed in his own mind. In this
vein, he chastised Reinhold for paying too much attention to the pre¬
27	See, e.g., the following passage from a letter written from Bremen in August 1796 by
one of Fichte’s ex-students, Johann Smidt, to J. F. Herbart, who was then attending Fichte’s
lectures in Jena: “Also write me something concerning Fichte’s theory of freedom. I do not
know how it looks now, since he has revised it at least three times. The last I heard from
him in Jena was that he was no longer entirely satisfied with his previous ideas on this
topic—though he himself did not at that time know what he would replace them with”
(Fuchs, ed., Fichte im Gespräch, I: 370).
28	Letter to Reinhold, March 21, 1797: “Your evaluation of my presentation, as it has
appeared so far, is much too favorable. Or perhaps the content has allowed you to overlook
the deficiency of the presentation. I consider it to be most imperfect. Yes, I know that it
gives off sparks of spirit, but it is not a single flame.”

Editor’s Introduction
11
sentation of 1794/95 and added: “Concerning the main points I am cer¬
tain, but once someone has grasped these he does far better to rely on
himself rather than on this very immature presentation. How much
more clearly I understand this science now!”29 Fichte makes a similar
point at the very beginning of the Halle transcript of the Wissenschafts-
lehre nova methodo, where he notes that the new exposition of the first
principles of transcendental philosophy would be presented with “a lib¬
erty for which the author was not yet sufficiently self-confident at the
time that he published his Wissenschaftslehre."30
A third explanation that Fichte offered for the inadequacy of the
Foundations concerns the specific theoretical context within which it was
conceived and elaborated: namely, the context determined by (1) Kant’s
Critiques, (2) Reinhold’s attempt to reconstruct the Critical philosophy in
the form of a system derived “from a single principle,” and (3) Schulze’s
skeptical criticisms of them both. Above all, it is the Foundations' close
reliance upon some of the key ideas and even the terminology of the
Elementarphilosophie which Fichte appears to have had foremost in mind
when he later remarked that “my published Wissenschaftslehre bears too
many traces of the time in which it was written and of the manner of
philosophizing which then prevailed. This made it more obscure than a
presentation of transcendental idealism needs to be.”31
An example of what Fichte may have meant by this veiled reference is
provided by Part I of the Foundations, which purports to present the
three “first principles” of the new system. This entire discussion, which
is heavily indebted to Reinhold’s account of the nature and starting
point of a philosophical system and, indeed, has its roots in the ratio¬
nalism that dominated German philosophy before Kant,32 is dispensed
with entirely in the new presentation of 1796/99, which completely
abandons all the talk about “first principles” that was so characteristic of
the earlier presentation.
Another example of how the presentation contained in the Founda¬
tions may have been unduly influenced by “the manner of philoso¬
phizing which then prevailed” is the organization of the work into a
“theoretical” and a “practical” portion. A sharp distinction between
theoretical philosophy and practical philosophy, which, of course, has
its roots in Kant’s distinction between the spheres of theoretical and
29	Letter to Reinhold, July 4, 1797.
30	AA IV, 2: 17. See below, p. 86.
31	Letter to Friedrich Johannsen, January 31, 1801.
32	As Heinz Heimsoeth points out, “the demand for the ‘supreme first principle’ of all
knowledge runs from Wolff to Kant and from Kant to Reinhold”; hence the demand for
a “first principle,” which is such a salient feature of the first presentation of the Wissen¬
schaftslehre, is, at the same time, the most backward-looking aspect of it. “Fichtes System-
entwicklung in seinen Jenenser Vorlesungen,” Blatter fur Deutsche Philosophie 13 (1939):
168.

12
Editor’s Introduction
practical reason, was also a feature of Reinhold’s Elementarphilosophie
(though, the latter’s treatment of practical philosophy was, as Fichte
noted, perfunctory at best). One of the chief aims of the Wissenschafts-
lehre was to take seriously the celebrated Kantian dictum concerning
“the primacy of practical reason” and to demonstrate not simply the
practical primacy of practical reason, but its primacy within the theoret¬
ical sphere as well—to show that willing is a condition for knowing, and
thereby to demonstrate the unity of theory and practice. Indeed, as
Fichte boasted, the biggest advance of the Wissenschaftslehre over the let¬
ter (if not the spirit) of the Kantian philosophy was that, by choosing as
its starting point the self-positing of the I, it was able to overcome the
Kantian distinction between theory and practice and thus to unify in a
single presentation speculative, theoretical, and practical reason,
thereby displaying “the unity underlying all three Critiques.”33 The Foun¬
dations was intended to display this very unity in a revolutionary new
manner. Unfortunately, however, many readers were prevented from
recognizing this achievement precisely because of its form, more specif¬
ically, because of its division into “theoretical” and “practical” portions,
a division obviously influenced by the author’s intense engagement dur¬
ing 1793/94 with the writings of Kant and Reinhold. Nothing interfered
more with the overall project of presenting “philosophy as a whole”34
than this theoretical/practical structure of the first presentation.
Yet another way in which the Foundations was indebted to Reinhold’s
Elementarphilosophie was in its method of presentation and in the overall
path of the inquiry, which begins with an “absolute first principle” (that
is, with something purely intelligible, the productive deed or Act of the
I) and then proceeds to the “deduction” of the realm of empirical ex¬
perience. Though such a method would present no particular problems
to those familiar with the rationalistic systematic ideal underlying Rein¬
hold’s enterprise, Fichte discovered that many of his students and read¬
ers had great difficulty following the path of his argument; indeed,
many professed to be unable even to locate its starting point. Accord¬
ingly, in his new presentation, he chose to follow what he himself de¬
scribed as a “much more natural path,” one that reversed the direction
of the previous presentation and proceeded from empirical experience
33	Fichte to Reinhold, July 2, 1795.
34	This is emphasized in the paragraph that stands at the head of the Halle transcript of
the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo: “In the present lectures, however, the hitherto familiar
division between theoretical and practical philosophy is not to be found. Instead, these lec¬
tures present philosophy as a whole, in the exposition of which theoretical and practical
philosophy are united. This presentation follows a much more natural path, beginning
with the practical sphere, or, whenever it would contribute to the clarity of the exposition
to do so, transforming the practical into the theoretical, in order to explain the latter in
terms of the former: a liberty for which the author was not yet sufficiently self-confident
at the time that he published his Wissenschaftslehre” {AA IV, 2: 17; see below, p. 86).

Editor’s Introduction 13
to intelligible conditions—from Tatsache to Tathandlung rather than vice
versa.35 Rather than having to begin their study of the Wissenschaftslehre
by grappling with an “absolute first principle” asserting that “the I sim¬
ply posits itself,” readers of the new presentation would simply be asked
to “think about the wall.”
To be sure, Fichte’s frequent criticisms of the Foundations' form and
manner of presentation were never intended to imply that it was false or
invalid. Instead, he conceded merely that many readers had found his
original presentation obscure and difficult to grasp. Accordingly, he al¬
ways viewed the task of composing a new one as that of finding new
wineskins for old wine and not as that of altering the actual content or
principles of his system. In short, his reasons for wanting to replace the
original presentation with a new one were entirely pedagogic.
Finally, in addition to the external circumstances of its composition
and its undue reliance upon outdated principles of presentation, Fichte
sometimes attributed the Foundations' failure to meet with public ap¬
proval (or at least understanding) to his own deficiencies as an author.
More specifically, he blamed what he perceived to be his lack of empathy
with his readers: “I am so little capable of placing myself in the frame of
mind of the reading public; I always assume that many things are self-
evident which hardly anyone else finds to be so.”36 To the extent that
this represents a fair description of Fichte’s limitations as an author, it is
difficult to see how he could ever hope to remedy them in any presen¬
tation of his system, no matter how “new.” And indeed, as we shall see,
it was his own growing self-awareness of this “deficiency” which, more
than anything else, accounts for his later decision not to publish any of
the many subsequent versions of the Wissenschaftslehre, but rather to con¬
fine himself exclusively to oral presentations, which permitted him
more easily to “empathize” with his listeners and directly to address their
doubts and questions.
Fichte’s Lectures on Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo
Fichte did not lecture on the first principles of the Wissenschaftslehre
during the 1795/96 academic year (when he was preoccupied with the
preparation and publication of his treatment of natural right), though
he had “long announced his intention to use a new manuscript as
35	“Prompted by the circumstances of the time, the primary aim of the earlier version
was to show that all our consciousness has its foundation in the eternally valid laws of our
thinking. In addition to this, however, this new presentation also provides us with the in¬
telligible world as a solid substrate for the empirical one” {A A IV, 2: 150; see below, p. 314).
Tatsache is the ordinary German word for “fact”; Tathandlung is a word Fichte invented to
designate the (self-)productive deed of the I, and in this volume it is translated as “Act.”
36	Letter to Reinhold, April 22, 1799.

14 Editor’s Introduction
the basis for his lectures on the Wissenschaftslehre S'2*1 Accordingly, for
the summer semester of 1796 he announced a private course on “the
foundations of transcendental philosophy (or, in the vernacular, Wissen¬
schaftslehre) .”37 38 In fact, however, he canceled his classes for the summer
semester of 1796 and did not lecture again until the winter semester
of 1796/97. Though the reasons for this cancellation are unclear, at
least one explanation may be that Fichte found himself unable to com¬
plete his total revision of the presentation of the first principles of the
Wissenschaftslehre in time for the new semester and was unwilling simply
to repeat his lectures of 1794/95.39 Therefore, it seems likely that he de¬
voted most of his effort during the summer to this “new presentation.”
In any event, the course catalog for the winter semester of 1796/97
announced that Fichte would be offering a private course on “the foun¬
dations of transcendental philosophy (the Wissenschaftslehre) according to
a new method and in a more expeditious fashion, according to a manu¬
script, but based upon his books. [. . . ] During the vacation he will pub¬
licly announce the plan of his course on transcendental philosophy.”40
Before the opening of the semester, which officially began on October
17, Fichte wrote to Reinhold that he was busy with “two courses I have
taught before, but which I am working on as if I had never worked them
out before.”41 That Fichte actually accomplished this total revision, at
least insofar as his lectures on the foundations of transcendental philos¬
ophy were concerned, is confirmed by another letter to Reinhold writ¬
ten at the end of the winter semester (March 1797), in which he re¬
marked: “I have completely reworked my presentation, just as if I had
37	J. F. Herbart to Johann Smidt, July 1, 1796. The passage from the letter in which this
report is included is worth quoting at length, simply as evidence of how completely
Fichte’s better students were caught up in the spirit of his enterprise. Thus Herbart writes
to his friend that “this summer I am chiefly occupied with the task of trying to come to
terms once and for all with the Wissenschaftslehre—i.e. (though I say this in confidence), to
construct one for myself. For the fact is that, even though I would never have amounted
to anything at all without Fichte, I am unable to recognize the unqualified truth of even
a single page of his book—in the form in which it now stands. I feel that it is permissible
for me to whisper this candidly to a friend, and the best evidence that this is permissible
is surely the fact that Fichte himself has long announced his intention to use a new manu¬
script as the basis for his lectures on the Wissenschaftslehre next winter (since the course was
not offered this summer). Hence my desire first to seek my salvation on my own is all the
greater” (Fuchs, ed., Fichte im Gespräch, I: 360).
38	In the advance course catalog (<catalogas praelectionum), this course was described as
“privatissime fundamenta philosophiae transcendentalis (vernacule die Wissenschaftslehre).” For a
complete listing of all Fichte’s lectures at Jena, see EPW, pp. 46-49.
39	This is the explanation proposed by Ives Radrizzani in the preface to his French trans¬
lation of the Wissenschaftslehre nava methodo: La Doctrine de la Science Nova Methodo, suivi de
Essai dune Nouvelle Présentation de la Doctrine de la Science (Lausanne: Editions de l’Age
d’Homme, 1989), p. 13.	'
40 “privatim: hora III—IV fundamenta philosophiae transscendentalis (die Wissenschaftslehre)
nova methodo, et lange expedition, secundum díctala adhibitis suis libris exponet. [... ] Publice per
ferias rationem lectionum suarum in philosophiam transscendentalem reddet.
41	Letter to Reinhold, August 27, 1796.

Editor’s Introduction 15
never worked it out at all and as if I knew nothing about the old pre¬
sentation.” In this, as well as in each of the two following winter se¬
mesters, Fichte lectured on the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo every
weekday afternoon from three to four, from which one can calculate
that the entire course was divided into approximately sixty one-hour
lectures.42
Before proceeding to discuss the two subsequent series of lectures on
Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo, however, let us pause to address a ques¬
tion raised by the course catalog’s description of the lectures of 1796/97:
Why did Fichte continue to describe this profoundly different presen¬
tation of the first principles of his system as “based upon his books”?
Two, by no means incompatible, answers suggest themselves. First, it is
possible that by acquainting his students with two different versions of
what he always insisted was only one and the same system, he meant to
demonstrate a point often emphasized in his public and private com¬
ments on his various presentations of the Wissenschaftslehre: the impor¬
tance of attaching as little value as possible to the “letter” of his system
and of seeking instead to discover its underlying “spirit.”43 In Fichte’s
estimation, it was by no means a disadvantage for a philosopher to alter
the terminology in which his system was presented; instead, it was a
clear virtue and, indeed, for an author such as Fichte, a virtual necessity.
Hence he often called attention to his own, explicit decision to eschew
any fixed terminology in the presentation of his system and frequently
emphasized the fact that “the Wissenschaftslehre possesses no special ter¬
minology of its own.”44 And indeed, to the occasional despair of scholars
and students, each successive version of his system (1793/94, 1794/95,
179^99» 1801/2, 1804/5, etc ) possesses its own distinctive vocabulary
and method of presentation. On the one hand, it is easy to imagine the
extreme confusion that must have been produced in the minds of
students attending Fichte’s lectures on Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo
when they turned to the Foundations of the Entire Wissenschaftslehre for as¬
sistance in unriddling the difficulties of the former! On the other hand,
42	See the discussion of this point by Erich Fuchs in the introduction to his edition of the
Krause transcript: J. G. Fichte, Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo. Kollegnachschrift Chr. Fr.
Krause 1798/99 (Hamburg: Meiner, 1982), p. xii.
43	This point is emphasized in the brief preface that Fichte wrote in August 1801 for the
second, one-volume edition of the Foundations and Outline: “The majority of the philo¬
sophical public still does not seem so well prepared for this new point of view that they will
find it useless to have the same content available in two very different forms, nor will it be
useless for them to learn to recognize this identity of content for themselves” (SW, I:
85 = AA I, 2: 461; English translation, EPW, pp. 238—39).
44	Fichte to Reinhold, July 4, 1797. See too the previously quoted remarks on this topic
contained in the preface to the first edition of the Foundations and in the preface to the
second edition of Concerning the Concept, in which Fichte reaffirms his initial decision to
present his system in a “a form that shuns the fixed letter” and “protects its inner spirit”
(SW, I: 36 = AA I, 2: 162).

l6 Editor’s Introduction
as Siegfried Berger observed in his pioneering work on the Wissen¬
schaftslehre nova methodo, “this difficulty into which Fichte plunged his lis¬
teners corresponded precisely with his pedagogic first principle: ‘Think
for yourself!’ ”45
A second possible explanation for Fichte’s surprising decision to em¬
ploy his old textbooks in conjunction with his new lectures is less ex¬
alted: perhaps he simply wanted the income from the sales of the older
presentation, or perhaps he wished to deplete the existing stock of the
older version to clear the way for the publication of a “new presenta¬
tion” of the first principles of the Wissenschaftslehre.46 In the light of
Fichte’s undoubtedly sincere conviction that the content of his earlier
presentation remained valid, this explanation is perhaps not as cynical
as it may appear; and many readers of the Foundations and the Wissen¬
schaftslehre nova methodo have discovered that the two presentations do in
fact complement and illuminate each other—though this is hardly ap¬
parent upon a first reading.
For the winter semester of 1797/98, which began on October 16,
Fichte once again offered a private course of lectures on the first prin¬
ciples of his system, this time described in the catalog as “foundations of
transcendental philosophy on the basis of his books, The Foundations of
the Wissenschaftslehre and the Outline of the Distinctive Character [of the Wis¬
senschaftslehre with Respect to the Theoretical Faculty].”47 On the basis of this
45	Siegfried Berger, Ueber eine unveröffentlichte Wissenschaftslehre J. G. Fichtes (Jenaer
Kolleghandschrift der Halleschen Universitätsbibliothek Y g 21.) (Marburg: Noske, 1918), p. 4.
46	In the fall of 1799, Fichte’s publisher, Christian Ernst Gabler, reminded Fichte (who
was then at work on his “New Presentation” of the Wissenschaftslehre) that “the original ver¬
sion is not yet completely sold out.” After politely asking the author to bear this fact in
mind while preparing his “New Presentation,” Gabler then went on to suggest that the
projected new book should include as many references as possible to Fichte’s earlier writ¬
ings—to help deplete the publisher’s remaining stock. See Gabler’s November 11, 1799,
letter to Fichte.
Anyone who studies Fichte’s correspondence is likely to be astonished by how much of it
is devoted to purely financial problems and questions, including lawsuits with publishers,
inquiries about sales and royalties, and so on. To be sure, such a concern is quite under¬
standable on the part of anyone in Fichte’s extraordinary personal and financial circum¬
stances. What is less understandable is how completely these same circumstances have
been ignored by succeeding generations of Fichte scholars. This is unfortunate, since it is
quite unlikely that one can obtain an accurate understanding of the genesis and evolution
of Fichte’s philosophy, and especially of the publication history of his writings, by willfully
ignoring his peculiar personal circumstances. As an example of the possible distortions
produced by such an “ideal” approach to the study of the history of philosophy, consider
the claim made by Berger (and many others) that Fichte’s decision in 1801 to authorize a
second edition of the Foundations demonstrates that “despite his closer acquaintance with
all its shortcomings, he must have still considered it to be correct in its fundamental
thoughts” (Ueber eine unveröffentlichte Wissenschaftslehre, p. 95). Then again, as an unem¬
ployed ex-professor trying to earn a living as an author, he may have been more concerned
with the extra income from a second edition of the Foundations than with reaffirming the
“correctness” of a work whose manner of presentation he himself had criticized so sharply.
47	“privatim: hora III—IVfundamenta philosophiae transscendentalis ex suis libris (Grundlage der
Wissenschaftslehre, et, Grundriß des Eigentümlichen, etc.).”

Editor’s Introduction 17
description, some previous scholars, beginning with Hans Jacob,48 con¬
cluded that in 1797/98 Fichte did not lecture on the Wissenschaftslehre
nova methodo at all, but instead based his course upon the 1794/95 pre¬
sentation of the foundations of his system. All more recent scholars,
however, agree that it is far more likely that in the winter semester of
1797/98 Fichte repeated his lectures on the Wissenschaftslehre nova meth¬
odo from.the previous year, while at the same time making a greater and
more concerted effort to emphasize the relationship between this new
presentation of the foundations of the Wissenschaftslehre and the older
one. This is also suggested by the following description of the course,
written by Fichte himself and recently discovered among his papers:
Many of my listeners have been unwilling to dispense with the convenience
of a printed textbook for these lectures. In order to satisfy this desire, I will
this time follow more closely my published books concerning the Wissen¬
schaftslehre (Grundlage der gesamten Wissenschfl. u. Grundriß des Eigentümlichen)
than I did in my last lectures on the Wissenschaftslehre, though without dis¬
pensing with whatever, as a result of further reflection, I can contribute to
the greater clarity of this science.49
Fichte offered his lectures on the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo for
one last time in the winter semester of 1798/99, when the course was
described as “foundations of transcendental philosophy (the Wissen¬
schaftslehre) according to a new method, but utilizing his books.”50
Though the semester officially began on October 15, 1798, Fichte ap¬
parently did not begin his private lectures on the Wissenschaftslehre nova
methodo until October 25.51 The course ended on March 14, 1799, at the
very moment when the so-called Atheism Controversy was reaching its
denouement. By the end of the month Fichte had forfeited his position
at the institution that had received him so warmly scarcely five years
earlier.
48	See Jacob’s preface to Fichte, Nachgelassene Schriften, Vol. II: Schriften aus den Jahren
1790-1800 (Berlin: Junker und Diinnhaupt, 1937), p. xxix. Note, however, that the an¬
nouncement of the 1798/99 lectures, which, thanks to the discovery of the Krause tran¬
script, we can now be certain were devoted to a presentation of the Wissenschaftslehre nova
methodo, also mentions that in his lectures Fichte will be “utilizing his books” (“tamen sui
libris”), though they are not mentioned by name.
49	A A IV, 2: 5. Commenting on this description, the editors oi A A IV, 2 cautiously ob¬
serve that it is quite possible that Fichte simply meant “to emphasize that he still adhered
to the fundamental thoughts of the printed Wissenschaftslehre, so that the latter could still
serve as a textbook for his lectures.”
50 “privatim: hora III—IV fundamenta philosophiae transscendentalis (die Wissenschaftslehre)
nova methodo, adhibitis tamen suis libris, exponet. ”
51	The evidence for this is a comment in an October 24, 1798, letter from Krause to his
father, in which he mentions that the class will begin the next day. The relevant passage is
published by Erich Fuchs in his introduction to the Krause transcript, p. x.

l8 Editor’s Introduction
Plans to Publish a “New Presentation”
of the Wissenschaftslehre
From the very beginning, Fichte clearly intended to publish his new
presentation of the first principles of his system. This time, however, he
wished to avoid the mistake he had made by his decision to publish the
first version prematurely. Instead, his plan was first to deliver a course of
lectures on Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo and then to revise them for
publication.52 But rather than publish these revised lectures in a single
volume, he intended to publish them first in installments in the Philo¬
sophisches Journal einer Gesellschaft Teutscher Gelehrten, a journal jointly
edited by Fichte and his colleague F. I. Niethammer.53 54 And indeed,
between February 1797 and March 1798 two introductions to this new
version, as well as its first chapter, appeared in four installments in the
Philosophisches Journal, under the general title “An Attempt at a New
Presentation of the Wissenschaftslehre.yy54 No further installments ap¬
peared, though Fichte did not abandon his plans for the eventual pub¬
lication of this new presentation of his system, as he made clear in a
public announcement he included in the preface to the second edition of
Concerning the Concept of the Wissenschaftslehre, published in the fall of
1798.	Here he informed his readers:
I will for the present proceed no further with the systematic elaboration of
this system; instead, I will first try to elaborate more fully what has already
been discovered and to make it completely clear and obvious to every im¬
partial person. A first step in this direction has already been taken in the
previously mentioned journal, and I will proceed with this project to the
extent that my academic duties permit. I have heard from several sources
that many persons have found these essays illuminating, and if the public
attitude toward the new theory has not been more generally altered, this
might well be due to the fact that the journal in question seems not to have
a very wide circulation. With the same aim in mind, just as soon as time
permits, I intend to publish a new attempt at a purely and strictly systematic
presentation of the foundations of the Wissenschaftslehre,55
Fichte explicitly reaffirmed this same plan a year later, in his March 17,
1799,	letter to J. E. C. Schmidt, where he remarks: “For three years I
have been working on and lecturing from a new version [of the Wissen-
52	One should recall that all the major systematic works Fichte published while at Jena
(the Grundlage, the Grundriß, the Naturrecht, and the Sittenlehre) were first presented to his
students in the form of lectures.
53	See Fichte’s March 21, 1797, letter to Reinhold, in which he remarks: “I intend to
have this revised version published in our Philosophisches Journal."
54	Versuch einer neuen Darstellung der Wissenschaftslehre (SW, I: 419-534 = A A I, 4: 183-
281).
55	SW, I: 37 = AA I, 2: 163.

Editor’s Introduction IQ
schaftslehre], the first chapter of which has been printed in the Journal. I
intend to have this new presentation published next winter. If you still
take exception here and there, I would advise you to wait for this new
revision.”
By the “next winter,” however, Fichte had other things to worry about
and was living in Berlin, where he had sought refuge in the wake of the
Atheism Controversy. Since he had no academic appointment in Berlin,
Fichte had to make plans to support himself purely from the proceeds
of his literary activities, and among the literary projects to which he
frequently referred in his correspondence of this period is the plan to
publish the “New Presentation” of the first principles of the Wissen-
schaftslehre. Other, previously unanticipated projects, however—such as
defending himself against the charge of atheism and writing The Vocation
of Man (two projects that were, in fact, intimately related)—took priority
during his first year in Berlin.
In any case, in August 1799, shortly after he arrived in Berlin, Fichte
wrote to his wife (who had remained behind to settle their affairs in
Jena): “My plans are currently as follows: As soon as the printing of my
Vocation of Man is finished, I shall return to Jena, where I will spend the
winter working on my philosophy of religion and, so far as it proves pos¬
sible, on the new version of my Wissenschaftslehre. I will publish the
former by subscription. Even on the worst scenario, these works should
earn enough for us to be able to live well from them for a few years.”56
In another letter to his wife, written a bit later in the fall of the same
year, he returned to the subject of his literary projects and remarked:
“In addition, I have on hand a fine manuscript, the new version of the Wis¬
senschaftslehre, which can also be made salable with a minimum of effort
and for which I also hope to fetch a good price. Thus there is no reason
at all for you to be concerned about our support.”57
Such remarks indicate that, though Fichte had to postpone his plans
for publishing the new version of the foundations of the Wissenschafts¬
lehre, he had by no means abandoned them at this point. Furthermore,
it is clear, first of all, that he believed that some revision would be
needed before the text would be ready for the press, and second, that he
did not anticipate that the needed revision of this “fine manuscript”
would require much additional effort.
By the beginning of the next year, however, other projects had inter¬
vened, and though Fichte still intended to revise the “New Presenta¬
tion” for publication, this project appears last on a list of four he
mentioned in a letter to his publisher, J. F. Cotta.58 Here Fichte describes
56	Letter to Johanna Fichte, August 20-24, 1799.
57	Letter to Johanna Fichte, October 28-November 2, 1799.
58	Fichte to Cotta, January 13, 1800. In this letter Fichte lists his current projects in the
following order: (1) a critique of the new French Constitution, accompanied by clearer

20 Editor’s Introduction
the new version as “a new (much clearer and smoother) presentation of
the Wissenschaftslehre (perhaps as a commentary or something similar, in¬
asmuch as a new, generally unaltered reprint of the sold-out first Wis¬
senschaftslehre is scheduled to appear). The manuscript has been finished
for years; I used it in my lectures. It is desired by everyone who knows of
its existence. It cannot appear, however, without a proper revision.”
From the last comment it appears that, Fichte’s earlier assurances to his
wife notwithstanding, he was beginning to have second thoughts about
how much work would be needed to put the “New Presentation” into
publishable form.
As it turned out, Fichte devoted the first half of 1800 to projects not
even alluded to in his January 13 letter to Cotta: an essay for the Philo-
sophisches Journal, in which he once again stated his views on the rela¬
tionship between religion and philosophy,59 60 and an entirely new book
on political economy, which was published in November under the title
The Closed Commercial Stated Consequently, he was not able to return to
the projected revision of the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo until the fall
of 1800, though he assured Cotta (in a letter of August 16, 1800): “This
coming winter I hope to get to work for you on the editing of the new
version of the Wissenschaftslehre, which has been finished for years.”
Even then, Fichte did not turn immediately to this oft-postponed
project, but first composed a sharply critical review of C. G. Bardili’s
Outlines of Primary Logic, a project to which he was driven by Reinhold’s
unanticipated departure from his period of short-lived enthusiasm for
Fichte’s Wissenschaftslehre and conversion to the standpoint of Bardili’s
“rational realism.”61 By the end of October 1800, however, Fichte had
finished the Bardili review and was at last ready to set to work in earnest
on the task of revising the manuscript of the Wissenschaftslehre nova
methodo.
It appears that Fichte’s decision to dedicate the winter of 1800 to this
effort was, once again, dictated at least in part by external circum¬
stances, namely, by a request to give private lessons on the Wissen-
presentation of his own views concerning the nature of a proper constitution; (2) a public
reply to Jacobi’s Open letter to Fichte; (3) a popular introduction to the Wissenschaftslehre, to
be titled A Crystal Clear Report to the General Public Concerning the Actual Essence of My Phi¬
losophy; and (4) the new presentation of the Wissenschaftslehre. Only the third of these
projects ever came to fruition. Fichte’s Sonnenklarer Bericht an das Grössere Publikum über das
Wesen der neuesten Philosophie was eventually published in the spring of 1801, albeit by a
different publisher (SW, II: 323-420 = AA I, 7: 185-268; English translation by John Bot-
terman and William Rasch in Philosophy of German Idealism, ed. Ernst Behler [New York:
Continuum, 1987], pp. 39-115).
59	Aus einem Privatschreiben (SW, V: 377-96 = AA I, 6: 369-89).
60	Der geschlossene Handelstaat (SW, III: 387-513 = AA I, 7: 37-164).
61	The issue of the Philosophisches Journal containing Fichte’s review of Bardili appeared
in November 1800. “Rezension von Bardilis Grundriss der ersten Logik” (SW, II: 490-
503 = AA I, 6: 433-5°)-

Editor’s Introduction 2 1
schaftslehre to a local banker, Salomon Moses Levy. Levy had first
approached Fichte with this idea at the beginning of the summer, but his
business activities took him away from Berlin until the fall. Apparently,
Fichte decided that it would be convenient to his own purposes to com¬
bine these private lessons with the task of revising the Wissenschaftslehre.
Moreover, he also appears to have decided at about this same time that
the new version of his system should be a strictly scientific (or, in Fichte’s
language, “metaphysical”)62 presentation, one that would dispense en¬
tirely with the kind of “critical” discussion of the nature of philosophical
reflection and the task of philosophy contained in the published intro¬
ductions to the Attempt at a New Presentation. Instead, he decided to in¬
clude all such material in a more “popular” companion volume, the
previously mentioned Crystal Clear Report to the General Public, upon
which he apparently continued to work during this same period. Thus,
on October 21,18oo, he wrote a letter to G. A. Reimer, the publisher of
the Crystal Clear Report, requesting an extension of the deadline for de¬
livery of the manuscript and explaining the delay as follows: “Because of
the arrival of someone to whom I am giving a private course on the Wis¬
senschaftslehre I am now occupied with the latter. I had intended to spend
this winter preparing a new presentation of the Wissenschaftslehre for the
press. I will gain some time if I can proceed undisturbed with this
project.” Perhaps to make the delay more palatable to his publisher, he
then added: “In this way it [the Crystal Clear Report] will also acquire a
certain contemporary interest, since it will provide a practically inseparable
introduction to the new presentation of the Wissenschaftslehre (for which
I will provide no introduction at all, but will instead refer readers to the
Crystal Clear Report).” Similarly, in letters written to Schelling during this
same period, Fichte excused himself from collaborating on a proposed
new “Critical Journal” on the grounds that “I would much rather edit
my new version of the Wissenschaftslehre, which seems to me to put an end
to all doubts and objections on the part of anyone who is not entirely
demoralized.”63
At long last, therefore, in the final months of 1800, after repeated
postponements, Fichte was able to clear his schedule of everything else
and devote himself entirely to the task of presenting the foundations of
his system to the public in a new and more adequate form. That he ex¬
pected to complete this task in a timely fashion is apparent from his No¬
vember 4, 1800, letter to Cotta, in which he notified his publisher: “I am
once again completely involved with the Wissenschaftslehre, and this time
I promise to deliver to you something that should unquestionably please
62	See the preface to the second edition of Concerning the Concept (SW, I, 32—33 = AA I,
2: 159-60).
63	Fichte to Schelling, October 22, 1800. See too his letter to Schelling, November 15,
1800.

22
Editor’s Introduction
you.” Fichte then went on to recommend that the publisher make plans
for a large edition of the work and to suggest that it might, at least ini¬
tially, be published by subscription. Along with the letter to Cotta, Fichte
included the text of a lengthy public announcement, which he wished to
have published in appropriate journals. This neglected document,
which is of capital importance for an understanding of Fichte’s entire
philosophical development, reads (in part) as follows:
The Wissenschaftslehre has been lying before the German public for six
years now. It has received a very mixed reception: for the most part, it has
met with vehement and passionate opposition, though it has also attracted
some praise from inadequately trained people and has even found a few
gifted followers and co-workers. For the past five years,64 I have had in my
desk a new version of the Wissenschaftslehre, which I have been employing in
my classroom lectures on this science. This winter I am busy revising this
new presentation, which I hope to be able to publish this coming spring.
I wish very much that the public would provisionally (that is, until such
time as it becomes possible for them to convince themselves on this point)
accept the following two assurances from me, and I hope that people will
keep both of these points in mind while reading the new presentation: First
of all, with the exception of a few individuals (not counting my own students
and immediate listeners, to whom the present remarks are not directed),
hardly any knowledge whatsoever concerning the Wissenschaftslehre is currently
to be found among the educated public. Second, this science represents a
thoroughly new discovery, the very Idea of which did not exist previously and
can be obtained only from the Wissenschaftslehre itself. This new science can
be judged only on its own terms.
Concerning the first point: The text that appeared six years ago and was
published as a manuscript for the use of my listeners, namely, the Founda¬
tions of the Entire Wissenschaftslehre, has, to the best of my knowledge, been
understood by almost no one and has been made use of by hardly anyone at
all, apart from my own students. This is a text that does not appear to be
able to dispense very easily with oral assistance. It seems to me, however,
that in my [Foundations of] Natural Right and [System of] Ethical Theory I have
been somewhat more successful in presenting my thoughts concerning phi¬
losophy in general as well. Nevertheless, to judge by all the comments I have
heard on this topic since the publication of these two works (including those
comments that concern these very works), it would appear that even these
books have not helped the public to advance much further in its under¬
standing of the main point at issue. I am not sure why this is so—whether
it is because people have usually skipped the introductions and the first sec¬
tions of these two books, or whether it is because it is simply not really pos¬
sible to provide the remote conclusions of my system (taken in isolation
from the premises from which they are derived) with the same degree of
64	Taken literally, this would imply that the manuscript of the Wissenschaftslehre nova
methodo was first composed in the fall of 1795, a claim that is difficult to reconcile with all
the other evidence in favor of a somewhat later dating.

Editor’s Introduction 23
self-evidence one can easily give to the first premises themselves. The only
texts that seem to have been better understood and appear to have suc¬
ceeded in raising high expectations concerning the Wissenschaftslehre on the
part of many open-minded people are the two “Introductions” to the Wis¬
senschaftslehre, as well as the first chapter of a “New Presentation” of this sys¬
tem, which appeared in the Philosophical Journal. At best, however, these
essays can do no more than convey a preliminary concept of my project; the
project itself, however, is by no means actually implemented and brought to
completion in these essays. [ . . . ]
I have previously stated elsewhere65 that, for my part, I would be willing
to shoulder all the blame for the nearly universal lack of understanding
[concerning the Wissenschaftslehre] that has prevailed in the past, if, by doing
so, I could only move the public to grapple anew with the issues in dispute.
As a result of long practice with the most diverse types of individuals, the
originator of this science believes he has at last acquired the facility to com¬
municate his science to others; and he intends to do so in the form of a new
system, one that was not discovered by means of any further elaboration of
the previously existing version of this science, but was discovered in an en¬
tirely different manner. [ . . . ]
By means of this new presentation, which I guarantee will be intelligible
to anyone who possesses the capacity for understanding science, I hope that
the philosophical public will finally have an occasion to come to terms in all
seriousness with the Wissenschaftslehre. [ . . . ]
In conclusion, I hope to make this new presentation so clear and so in¬
telligible that it will require no further assistance in this respect and no
newer and even clearer presentation will be needed. I will worry later about
such matters as scientific elegance, the strictly systematic arrangement of
the parts and the exclusion of any foreign elements, the adoption of a pre¬
cise terminology, and the creation of a symbolic system of pure concepts
(such as that “universal characteristic” which was already sought by Leibniz
and which first becomes possible only subsequent to the Wissenschaftslehre).
That is to say, I will attend to these matters only after I have found that the
age is making some use of this new presentation of the Wissenschaftslehre
and has thereby made itself receptive to a purely scientific presentation of
the same.66
Fichte continued to work on this new presentation throughout the
winter, as is clear from comments in his letters.67 At the same time, his
“revision” of the new presentation was proving to be more time-
consuming that he originally anticipated and would, in the author’s new
65	In the Preface to “An Attempt at a New Presentation of Wissenschaftslehre."
66	“[Ankündigung: Seit sechs Jarhren.]” (AA I, 7: 153-64). In a note from the publisher,
which was appended to Fichte’s text, Cotta announced that the work in question “will be
published by our firm around the middle of this year” and invited interested parties to
help enroll subscribers. As an incentive, he offered “one free copy for every six subscrip¬
tions.”
67	See, e.g., Fichte’s letter to Schiller, December 2, 1800, in which he reports: “I am pres¬
ently working on a new presentation of the Wissenschaftslehre, which—so I hope—will be so
clear that anyone with a scientific mind can be expected to understand it.” See too the

24 Editor’s Introduction
estimation, require something more than a simple editorial reworking of
the existing manuscript of his lectures on Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo.
Abandonment of Plans to Publish the
Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo
The first, albeit indirect, hint that Fichte was not progressing as rap¬
idly as he had hoped in his revision of the new presentation is a com¬
ment in his December 26, 1800, letter to Cotta, in which he somewhat
tentatively asks his publisher whether it might not be better—allegedly,
for purely commercial reasons (in order to obtain the largest possible ad¬
vance subscription)—to postpone publication of the new presentation
until sometime after the Easter book fair, or even to abandon the orig¬
inal plan to offer it by subscription. After receiving Cotta’s approval for
the delay, Fichte, in his next letter to the publisher (February 14, 1801)
added: “I myself, on account of my work, very much wish that the print¬
ing of the Wissenschaftslehre can be postponed.” And in fact, as this allu¬
sion to “my work” suggests, Fichte was encountering more and more
difficulties in his efforts to revise the text of his lectures on Wissen¬
schaftslehre nova methodo; indeed, it appears likely that by this point he
had virtually abandoned his efforts to rework his manuscript of 1796/99.
In any case, he was increasingly preoccupied with other matters. Accord¬
ingly, in the spring of 1801 he directed his literary energies to three
other projects: the completion of the Crystal Clear Report, a polemical re¬
ply to Friedrich Nicolai’s increasingly vitriolic public campaign against
Fichte,68 and a public reply to Reinhold’s defense of Bardili and criticism
of transcendental idealism.69
A certain amount of confusion is created by the fact that throughout
the next few years Fichte continued, both in his private correspon¬
dence70 and in his published writings, to make occasional reference to
remark in Fichte’s January 31, 1801, letter to Friedrich Johannsen: “I will soon publish my
new presentation of the Wissenschaftslehre, which has existed in manuscript for four years
and which I used to lecture on in Jena.”
68	This work, Friedrich Nicolai’s Leben und sonderbare Meinungen (SW, VIII: 3—93 = AA I,
7: 367-463), was apparently composed during the early spring of 1801 and was published
in May of the same year.
69	J. G. Fichte’s Antwortschreiben an Herrn Professor Reinhold (SW, II: 504—34 = A A I, 7:
291-324) was probably written at the beginning of April 1801. It was published at the end
of the same month.
70	In his May 9, 1801, letter to Cotta, Fichte suggested postponing publication of the
“New Presentation” until the fall book fair, and then went on to add: “Since the greater
public has no concept of what I actually want to accomplish in this book, they can also wait
for it until after Michaelmas 1801.” This ominous prediction was made explicit in Fichte’s
next letter to Cotta (August 8, 1801), which began as follows: “I have found so much to do
in the new version—which actually, in many respects, represents a new discovery of the

Editor’s Introduction
the long-promised “New Presentation of the Wissenschaftslehre.”71 The
“new presentation” in question, however, was no longer the revised ver¬
sion of 1796/99, but instead an entirely new version, the so-called Wis¬
senschaftslehre of 1801/272—which likewise failed to appear as promised.
Let us now draw some conclusions from the evidence assembled so far
and directly address the question, Why did Fichte first delay and then
abandon his plans to publish the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo}
The original delay, that is, the suspension of the plan to publish the
Attempt at a New Presentation of the Wissenschaftslehre in installments in the
Philosophisches Journal, appears to have been directly connected with the
Atheism Controversy that erupted shortly after the publication of Chap¬
ter 1 of the New Presentation,73 This is not to suggest that the Atheism
Controversy somehow caused Fichte to reevaluate the philosophical
adequacy of his New Presentation and to suspend publication because
he had become dissatisfied with the new version; instead, it appears
that the public controversy concerning—and misunderstanding of—his
article “On the Ground of Our Belief in a Divine Governance of the
World”74 caused him to reconsider the wisdom of submitting his new
Wissenschaftslehre from a variety of middle points—that I cannot, without a certain amount
of rashness in the presentation and expression of the same, tend to the printing in time for
the Michaelmas fair. Therefore, it would be better for us to postpone it so that we can ac¬
complish it with the fullest ripeness and leisure. It will certainly appear around the end of
the year.” This “new discovery” of the Wissenschaftslehre is also mentioned by Fichte in his
May 31—August 7, 1801, letter to Schelling, where he predicts that it will be published by
the end of the year.
By November 28, 1801, however, Fichte had once again revised his estimate of the pub¬
lication date of the “new version of the Wissenschaftslehre,” which he assured Cotta “will be
printed without fail in time for the Easter fair,” a promise repeated in his December 29,
1801,	letter to J. B. Shad, his January 15, 1802, letter to Schelling, and his January 23,
1802,	letter to Cotta. But by April 1802 he informed his long-suffering publisher that “the
new presentation of the Wissenschaftslehre can appear only after the fair. I have lectured on
it, and, though this new engagement with it should prove useful for the contents them¬
selves, it nevertheless prevents me from getting it ready for the printer.” Finally, in a letter
of June 3, 1802, he assured Niethammer that the “new exposition should certainly appear
this summer.”
71	What is apparently Fichte’s last public reference to the “New Presentation” occurs in
the new preface (dated “August 1801”) he wrote for the second edition of the Foundations!
Outline. This preface begins by confessing that “in the course of preparing a new presen¬
tation of the Wissenschaftslehre it has again become clear to the creator of this science that,
for the time being, no new presentation will be able to make this first presentation super¬
fluous” and concludes with the (unfulfilled) promise that “the new presentation will be
published next year” (SW, I: 85 = AA I, 2: 461).
72	A heavily edited version of the Darstellung der Wissenschaftslehre aus dem Jahre 1801 was
published by I. H. Fichte in SW, II: 3-163. For a reliable text, see AA II, 6: 129-324.
73	See Fuchs’s introduction to the Krause transcript, p. vii. Chap. 1 appeared in the first
number of vol. 7 of the Philosophisches Journal, which was published in March 1798. The
articles by Fichte and Forberg which provoked the Atheism Controversy were published
only six months later in the first number of vol. 8 of the same journal.
74	Ueber den Grund unsers Glauben an eine göttliche Weltregierung (SW, V: 177-89 = A A I,
5: 347-57i English translation by Paul Edwards, “On the Foundation of Our Belief in a

26 Editor’s Introduction
presentation of the foundations of transcendental philosophy to the
scrutiny of what he increasingly took to be an ill-informed and unsym¬
pathetic public. After all, in the preface to the first published installment
of the Attempt at a New Presentation he had begged his readers to put aside
any ideas concerning his philosophy which they may have obtained from
his original presentation of its foundations and urged them to give a fair
hearing to the new presentation, in which he promised “to take the ut¬
most pains to achieve the greatest possible clarity.” He then added: “I
will continue this presentation until I am convinced that I write entirely
in vain. But I shall be writing in vain so long as no one cares to examine
my arguments and reasons. 5 One might, therefore, conclude that the
public Atheism Controversy, when combined with the growing hostility
toward Fichte’s philosophy on the part of his professional colleagues,
convinced him that, for the moment at least, he was indeed “writing in
vain” and that this was why he refused to publish any further install¬
ments of the Attempt at a New Presentation.
Furthermore, after Fichte (sometime in 1798) originally suspended
his plan of revising the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo for publication in
the Philosophisches Journal, a series of other, more pressing projects
immediately intervened to occupy all his time and energy for the next
several years—beginning, in 1799, with his various public and private
responses to the accusation of atheism, and continuing, in the following
year, with his work on such projects as The Vocation of Man, The Closed
Commercial State, the Bardili review, and the Crystal Clear Report. In ad¬
dition to these literary projects, he was also occupied during the years
1799 and 1800 with various practical arrangements involved in the
move from Jena to Berlin.* 75 76 As a consequence of these projects and
problems, the delay in returning to the work of revision proved to be
much longer than he had originally anticipated, and during this period
his thoughts about the nature of an adequate presentation of the foun¬
dations of his system continued to evolve.
This last point proved to be the decisive one, the one that explains why
revision and publication of the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo was not
merely suspended but was finally abandoned altogether for a completely
new attempt to expound the first principles of transcendental philoso¬
phy (in the unpublished “Wissenschaftslehre of 1801/2”). By the time
Fichte was able to return his full attention to the task of revising the Wis¬
senschaftslehre nova methodo (that is, by the fall and winter of 1800) his own
Divine Government of the Universe,” in Nineteenth-Century Philosophy, ed. Patrick L. Gar¬
diner (New York: Free Press, 1060), pp. 19-26.
75	SW, I: 420 = AA I, 4: 184.
76	Fichte left Jena for Berlin in July 1799. In December he returned to Jena to dispose
of his home and household possessions, a process that occupied much more time than he
had anticipated. Thus he was unable to return to Berlin until March 1800.

Editor’s Introduction
understanding of what should—and what should not—be included in
such a presentation had advanced to the point where it was no longer
possible for him simply to revise the presentation of 1796/99. Indeed,
the surviving manuscript of his unfinished attempted revision of 1800,77
with its much heavier emphasis upon the “intuitive” character of philo¬
sophical evidence (a point also stressed in the announcement of the new
presentation, which Fichte wrote in November 1800) and with its re¬
peated new starts and asides, eloquently reveals just how difficult—and
finally, impossible—the task of “revising” the Wissenschaftslehre nova
methodo proved to be. Though this document breaks off abruptly with
the derivation of “feeling” (i.e., at a point corresponding roughly with
§ 6 of the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo), it clearly demonstrates that
Fichte was no longer satisfied with the overall method of presentation
adopted in his lectures of 1796/99.78 In short, whereas he had originally
predicted that the manuscript of the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo could
be made publishable “with little effort,”79 this proved not to be the case
at all.
Just what were the changes in Fichte’s views which account for his
growing dissatisfaction with the presentation of 1796/99? Though there
were various minor infelicities, such as the occasional “confusion of ideal
and real activity” that Fichte mentioned in his November 15, 1800, letter
to Schelling, the underlying problem was more serious. It is hinted at in
a letter to Schelling written at about the same time that Fichte was near¬
ing his decision to abandon for good any attempt to revise the Wissen¬
schaftslehre nova methodo. In this letter of December 27, 1800, he alerted
his erstwhile colleague to the pressing need “for an even wider extension
of transcendental philosophy, even with respect to the very principles of the
same” He added: “I have not yet been able to work out these more ex¬
tensive principles in a scientific manner; the clearest hint concerning
them is found in the third book of my Vocation of Man. As soon as I am
finished with my new presentation of the Wissenschaftslehre, my first
project will be to carry out this task. In a word, what is still lacking is a
transcendental system of the intelligible world. ” The “intelligible world” is the
Kantian name for the realm of free, moral agents, that is to say, the
realm of “intersubjectivity” And in fact, as many scholars have noted,
the account of intersubjectivity in the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo,
though consistent with the account given in Fichte’s earlier Jena writings,
77	Neue Bearbeitung der Wissenschaftslehre (A A II, 5: 331-402). This manuscript was com¬
posed between October and December 1800.
78	This is also the verdict reached by the editors of the Halle transcript of the Wissen¬
schaftslehre nova methodo, who conclude that “in his draft of the Wissenschaftslehre of October
1800, [Fichte] had already abandoned the systematic conception of the presentation nova
methodo" (AA IV, 2: 11).
79	Fichte to Johanna Fichte, November 2, 1799.

2 8 Editor’s Introduction
is incompatible with and superseded by the very different account of in¬
tersubjectivity provided in Book III of The Vocation of Man.
Fichte returned to this same point in another letter to Schelling, writ¬
ten shortly after he had decided to make an entirely fresh start in his
efforts to produce a new presentation of the first principles of the Wis-
senschaftslehre. In this letter of May 31, 1801, he explained that “the Wis-
senschaftslehre lacks nothing whatsoever insofar as its principles are
concerned; yet it is incomplete. That is to say, the highest synthesis, that
of the spiritual world, has not yet been achieved. The cry of ‘atheism’
was raised just as I was preparing to achieve this synthesis.” By “syn¬
thesis of the spiritual world” Fichte was referring, as he explained in
Book III of The Vocation of Man, to the role played within the intelligible
world by the “lawgiver in the kingdom of ends”; that is, he was referring
to God.
What appears to have happened, therefore, is that sometime between
the fall of 1800 and the late spring of 1801 Fichte decided that he could
not simply tack his new “theory of the intelligible world” onto a revised
version of the presentation contained in the Wissenschaftslehre nova meth-
odo; instead, he concluded that such a theory, and especially its “highest
synthesis,” should occupy a central position in any new presentation of
the first principles of his system.80 This, however, as he apparently re¬
alized in the winter of 1800/1801, would require a thoroughly new
method of presentation. From then on, therefore, Fichte presented the
Wissenschaftslehre as a theory of the absolute and its appearances.
We can merely speculate about what accounted for this change in
Fichte’s views. Though it is difficult to resist the thought that the striking
differences between the Jena versions of the Wissenschaftslehre and the
later versions are somehow connected with the Atheism Controversy, a
close examination of Fichte’s published and unpublished writings of the
years 1798—1801 suggests that the decisive turn in his own under stand¬
ing of his system was already under way in Jena, and that this had at
least as much to do with the inner, dialectical development of the Wis¬
senschaftslehre as with any external events in the life of its author.81 Nev¬
80	Though the manuscript of the Neue Bearbeitung of 1800 shows that Fichte was still
trying to follow the basic method of presentation of the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo, it
includes marginal comments and asides that plainly indicate that he was finding it harder
and harder to avoid introducing his new theory of the intelligible world into his presen¬
tation of the first principles of his system. Thus he remarks at one point in the manuscript
(AA II, 5: 385) that “the bond that holds together the entire intelligible world is God. Such
an intuition simply must be demonstrated.” See too the later, rather plaintive question (p.
400): “Is there not perhaps a pure intuition of God, by means of which my philosophy
could all at once receive assistance?” When developed (as it is, for example, in the Wissen¬
schaftslehre of 1801/2), this suggestion becomes the line of demarcation between the Jena
Wissenschaftslehre and all subsequent versions.
81	There is, for example, clear evidence that Fichte had already reached a new under¬
standing of the “synthesis of the intelligible world,” that is, a new theory of intersubjec¬
tivity, by the spring of 1799. This is indicated by remarks in his Platner lectures (“Logic

Editor’s Introduction 29
ertheless, it seems plausible that Fichte’s interest in extending the
Wissenschaftslehre in the direction of the philosophy of religion and the
theory of the intelligible world should have been at least reinforced and
intensified by the controversy over his alleged atheism, and especially by
the criticisms in Jacobi’s celebrated Open Letter to Fichte.82
What is beyond dispute is that Fichte was preoccupied with just such
questions in the period immediately after his departure from Jena and
that, as a result, his understanding of the relationship between the “in¬
telligible” and the “empirical” worlds was substantially altered. This is
especially clear in The Vocation of Man, which Fichte began during the
summer of 1799 and finished in November. He himself was well aware of
this change in orientation ancFalluded to it in a November 5, 1799, letter
to his wife, where he remarked: “In the course of working on my present
book [The Vocation of Man] I have looked more closely into religion than
ever before.”
A more striking reference to this change in his views appears in a let¬
ter composed almost a year later, where he admits: “I may have erred in
some of the final propositions of my system, that is to say, in the deri¬
vation; and I will, no doubt, often do so again in the future. I myself
have already discovered errors here and there and have publicly re¬
tracted them before my listeners, and I also retract them in public, to the
extent that I teach something else in my other writings. (As I have, for
example, in the Vocation of Man retracted the superficial argument of the
Sittenlehre, p. 300—and I also did this a year and half ago before my
students.)”83
To be sure, other “theoretical” influences were at work on Fichte at
the end of 1800, and they too may well have added to his dissatisfaction
with the presentation of 1796/99. For example, he was growing more
and more alarmed by Schelling’s assertions regarding the relationship
between transcendental philosophy and an a priori philosophy of
and Metaphysics”) at the end of the winter semester of 1798/99. As the editors of A A IV,
4 point out, Fichte’s lecture notes, and especially his remarks on § 933 of Platner’s book,
provide dramatic evidence of a sudden change in his theory of intersubjectivity in the
spring of 1798: whereas the old theory (similar to the one contained in the System of Ethics)
is expounded in AA II, 4: 312-27, pp. 328-30 of the same text introduce the first version
of the new theory (anticipating that contained in Book III of The Vocation of Man). Pre¬
sumably, it was precisely this new understanding of “the intelligible world” which Fichte
intended to expound in the iectures on philosophy of religion he announced for the sum¬
mer semester of 1799. Unfortunately, because of the Atheism Controversy and ensuing
events, these lectures were never delivered.
82	Jacobi an Fichte, March 3-21, 1799 (AA III, 3: 224-81). For a partial English transla¬
tion of this document, which played a key role in the development of post-Kantian phi¬
losophy, see “Open Letter to Fichte,” trans. Diana I. Behler, in Philosophy of German Idealism,
PP-119"41-
83	Fichte to Reinhold, September 18, 1800. The mention of a “retraction before my stu¬
dents a year and a half ago” is presumably a reference to the above-mentioned changes in
the theory of intersubjectivity which Fichte introduced at the conclusion of his lectures on
logic and metaphysics in the winter semester of 1798/99.

30 Editor’s Introduction
nature, as well as by his claims concerning the allegedly “objective”
character of intellectual intuition, and Fichte was becoming convinced—
however reluctantly—of the need for some sort of direct or indirect pub¬
lic exposure of Schelling’s errors. Another philosophical motive that
surely influenced Fichte while he was trying to revise his lectures was his
desire to reply to Bardili’s rejection of “intuitive evidence,” with its at¬
tendant call for a philosophy based upon nothing more than “thinking
qua thinking.” Indeed, the draft of the Neue Bearbeitung of 1800 clearly
shows how Fichte was trying to integrate a response to these two very
different sorts of “dogmatism” within his new presentation—just as it
also shows how difficult he was finding it to accommodate his existing
manuscript to this purpose.
Nevertheless, the evidence plainly suggests that the most important
external philosophical impetus in the evolution of Fichte’s philosophical
conceptions during this period was Jacobi’s public criticism, which not
only endorsed the charge of atheism against the Wissenschaftslehre, but
raised a new charge as well: nihilism. Similarly, the most important in¬
ternal reason for Fichte’s final abandonment of the 1796/99 version ap¬
pears to have been that it simply did not lend itself to a revision of the
sort he now thought was required, and specifically, that it could not be
readily modified in such a manner as to be consistent with his new un¬
derstanding of the intelligible world—that is, with his new theories of
interpersonality and of God.
The history of Fichte’s attempts to lay before the public an accurate,
clear, and accessible presentation of the first principles of transcenden¬
tal philosophy is a history of failure, a story of one broken promise after
another. As we have seen, he realized at an early date that the struggle
to provide an adequate exposition of his system would be long and frus¬
trating, but he nevertheless hoped to make progress toward this goal.
Thus he warned the readers of his first (and, as it turned out, only) pub¬
lic presentation of the foundations of the Wissenschaftslehre: “Having
thoroughly reworked this system three times, and having found that my
thoughts concerning individual propositions contained therein are dif¬
ferently modified each time, I can expect that as my reflections con¬
tinue to develop, my thoughts will always continue to alter and to
develop.”84 This prediction was only strengthened by the public recep¬
tion of the Foundations, which convinced the author that a new presen¬
tation not only would be a desirable way of keeping the public informed
concerning his “further reflections,” but would be necessary to correct
misunderstandings based upon the original presentation.
As the goal of a “definitive presentation” of the Wissenschaftslehre con¬
tinued to elude him, Fichte consoled himself with the thought that he
84 SW, I: 89 = AA I, 2: 254.

Editor’s Introduction 3 1
might be able to achieve his aim by providing the public with several dif¬
ferent presentations of his system. Thus, immediately after exclaiming to
Reinhold, in a letter of March 21, 1797, “How many more times will I
revise my presentation!” he went on: “Nature has made up for my lack
of precision by granting me the ability to view things in a number of dif¬
ferent ways and by endowing me with a fairly agile mind.” By this time,
however, he had already come to realize that “the presentation of the
Wissenschaftslehre will require by itself an entire lifetime. The only pros¬
pect that is able to shake me is the thought of dying before I have com¬
pleted it.”85
At the time that he made these remarks, Fichte still hoped to be able
to publish a new presentation—or better, a series of new presenta¬
tions—of the Wissenschaftslehre. And as we have seen, he continued to
pursue this goal throughout his first years in Berlin. By 1804, however,
he had reached a momentous decision: to continue his striving for an
ever more adequate, scientific presentation of his system, but to re¬
nounce for the foreseeable future any plans to publish these new pre¬
sentations. His reasons for reaching this decision are nowhere stated
more clearly and poignantly than in a document he drafted for the royal
cabinet of ministers to the Prussian government on January 3, 1804.86
This document, which testifies eloquently to Fichte’s determination to
avoid any possible misunderstanding of his philosophy on the part of
the public, and which also explains how and why he could continue to
revise his presentation of his system until the year of his death, without
any prospect of publishing it, is here translated in its entirety:
Pro memorial
A system, the external form of which has recently been brought to com¬
pletion, is now available which prides itself on being completely self-
contained, unalterable, and immediately self-evident and is able to provide
all the other sciences with their first principles and guidelines. This system
thereby promises to eliminate forever all conflict and misunderstanding
from the domain of science and to direct the human mind (which obtains its
proper strengthening only within this system) toward the field within which
it can make endless progress toward ever-higher clarity. This field consists
of the empirical world, within which this system promises to provide the hu¬
man mind with an infallible guide.
Despite the fact that, under the name “philosophy,” such a science has
been obscurely anticipated and sought since the very beginning of all sci¬
entific endeavor, it is nevertheless obvious that such a science has never be¬
fore existed nor even been attempted. Indeed, the entire wisdom and
enlightenment of our own day consists in the bold denial of the very possi¬
bility of any such knowledge. Thus it is clear that, if this discovery is really
85	Letter to Reinhold, July 2, 1795.
86	In AA III, 5: 222-24.

32 Editor’s Introduction
what it claims to be, it paves the way for a rebirth of mankind and of all
human relationships, a rebirth such as has never before been even possible.
By observing the so-called literary public for many years, the discoverer
[of this system] has become sufficiently confident that the conditions nec¬
essary for understanding a system of this sort have, for the most part, been
destroyed by the academic method that has prevailed until now, and he is
also convinced that more errors are in general circulation at the present
time than perhaps ever before. Consequently, he has no intention of
publishing his discovery in its present form and exposing it to general mis¬
understanding and distortion. He wishes to confine himself to oral commu¬
nication, so that misunderstanding can thereby be detected and eliminated
on the spot.
Nevertheless, he does not wish to forego the advantages of the judgment
of experts in such matters. Since he lives and lectures in a city where there
is an academy of science founded by Leibniz, which still preserves among its
members some with an interest in speculation, he cherishes the wish of hav¬
ing this same academy serve as his judge. Accordingly, if only so that this
academy will consider the task of sufficient importance and will take it se¬
riously, he proposes that it be charged by His Majesty the King with the task
of examining the Wissenschaftslehre. Following the example of another acad¬
emy (namely, the Paris Academy), the academy may then appoint commission¬
ers to this task; and, in order for these commissioners to become acquainted
with the object of their examination in the only way possible and in the only
way I myself would consider conclusive, they would have to attend my lectures.
I have moved the location of my lectures to my own lodgings, but if the
commissioners-to-be should consider it beneath their dignity as public offi¬
cials to come to my home, then I am prepared to hold my lectures in any
appropriate place designated by the academy. In order to protect myself in
advance against any negative judgment concerning the form [of my philos¬
ophy], I reserve the right to present, first to the academy and its commis¬
sioners, and then, if necessary, to the public, a universally comprehensible
and immediately illuminating report concerning how the Wissenschaftslehre
cannot be judged.
Though nothing came of this rather poignant proposal, Fichte con¬
tinued to elaborate new presentations of his system in his private lec¬
tures. At the same time, he also lectured on more “popular” topics, such
as religion, history, and politics. Meanwhile, his disappointment with the
public reception of his writings grew ever greater, until finally, in the
preface to his published lectures titled Directions for the Blessed Life (1806),
he quite openly confessed his reluctance to publish his lectures and
bluntly expressed his doubts concerning whether there was any longer
any point at all in his attempting to address the public. In the light of the
tangled (non)publication history of the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo,
there is a note of undeniable pathos in Fichte’s candid explanation of

Editor’s Introduction 33
why he decided to publish his Blessed Life lectures in an unrevised form:
for, as he explains, “given my way of working, the surest way of never
finishing them would be to revise them again.”87 88PART II
The Discovery and Publication of Two Student Transcripts
of the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo
Given the importance that Fichte himself long attached to the Wissen¬
schaftslehre nova methodo, as well as its obvious significance for any under¬
standing of the overall development of the Wissenschaftslehre, it is
certainly regrettable that his own manuscript of these lectures has not
survived (or, in any case, has not been discovered). Nevertheless, we do
possess two different, detailed transcripts of Fichte’s lectures, on the ba¬
sis of which it is possible to gain a very good idea of the content of his
1796/99 lectures on “the foundations of transcendental philosophy.”
Before the era of tape recorders and duplicating machines, carefully
transcribed and bound copies of lecture courses played an important
role in German university life. Indeed, some students and exstudents
amassed large private collections of these so-called Kollegnachschriften.
This was especially true in Jena during the 1790s, when it was a com¬
mon practice for several students to pool their energy and resources by
contributing all of their class notes or transcripts from a particular
course to the production of a polished, continuously written transcript
of the lectures in question. From this final version it was then possible to
make additional copies. Indeed, some students routinely augmented
their income by preparing transcripts of lecture courses and selling
*
copies.
Student transcripts of several of Fichte’s courses from the Jena period
(as well as even more from his later years) were already known to exist in
the nineteenth century, and thus it was not unrealistic of scholars to
87	Die Anweisung zum seligen Leben oder auch die Religionslehre (SW, V: 399-400).
88	A clear reference to this practice occurs in the August 13, 1799, letter of Hans Bostel
to Friedrich Carl von Savigny, who had apparently asked his friend, Bostel, who was then
a student in Jena, to obtain for him a transcript of Fichte’s lectures. The relevant passage
in Bostel’s letter reads as follows: “I was unable to find a notebook on the Wissenschaftslehre;
therefore, I commissioned a copy of one that is supposed to be very good and accurate. It
will be very long, and thus the cost of copying it is 4 thalers—not including the cost of the
paper. You will not mind that it is rather expensive, since it is so long. Another person, who
also had a copy made by the same man, paid the same amount. I will pay for it out of what
I owe you. Meanwhile, you will receive a portion of the text. More portions will follow on
Saturday, and thus you will receive the entire text, little by little, over the course of the next
three weeks.” In Der Briefwechsel zwischen Friedrich Carl von Savigny und Stephan August
Winkelmann (1800—1804) mil Dokumenten und Briefen aus dem Freundeskreis, ed. Ingeborg
Schnack (Marburg: Elwert, 1984), p. 278.

34 Editor’s Introduction
hope that a transcript of his lectures on Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo
might eventually turn up in some library or private collection. And
indeed, early in the present century, one eventually did surface in the
university library at Halle, which had acquired it in 1885 as part
of a bequest from a local professor, Gottfried Moritz Meyer, whose
fame rested largely upon his extensive collection of philosophical
Kollegnachschriften.89
The existence of this manuscript, titled “Wissenschaftslehre according
to the Lectures of Herr Professor Fichte,” was brought to the attention
of the great Fichte scholar Fritz Medicus, who duly reported the infor¬
mation in a remark in his six-volume edition of Fichte’s Selected Works
and included a few short quotations from the manuscript in his general
introduction to Volume I.90 Shortly thereafter, Siegfried Berger devoted
his inaugural dissertation to a description and analysis of the contents of
this “Halle transcript” of the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo. Berger’s dis¬
sertation, which included many direct quotations from the manuscript,
was published in 1918.91
Longer excerpts from the same manuscript appeared in print during
the next decade, as appendixes to two works by Emanuel Hirsch.92
Though these initial reports concerning and excerpts from the newly
discovered manuscript excited a certain amount of interest among
scholars,93 the full text of this transcript was not published until 1937,
when Hans Jacob included it in Volume II (the only volume published)
of his edition of Fichte’s literary remains.94 In part because of the war,
this edition attracted little attention at the time (except in Italy, where
the importance of the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo has long been rec¬
89	See G. von Goutta, “Gottfried Moritz Meyers Sammlung philosophischer Kolleg¬
nachschriften,” Kant-Studien 28 (1923): 198—200.
90	Fichte, Werke. Auswahl in sechs Bänden, ed. Fritz Medicus (Leipzig: Meiner, 1908—12).
See vol. I (1911), pp. Ixxx n., cxxi, and cxlvi—cxlvii, and vol. VI (1912), p. 627m
91	Ueber eine unveröffentlichte Wissenschaftslehre J. G. Fichtes.
92	(1) “Ueberschrift und Schluß einer studentischen Nachschrift der WL aus dem Jahre
1798 (Fichtes System der philosophischen Wissenschaften),” in Emanuel Hirsch, Christen¬
tum und Geschichte in Fichtes Philosophie (Tübingen: Mohr, 1920), pp. 62-67. This selection
consists of the opening paragraph of H and the “Deduction of the Subdivisions of the Wis¬
senschaftslehre" from H. (2) “Die unmittelbar für die Religionsphilosophie wichtigen
Stellen” and “Fichtes Diktate,” in Emanuel Hirsch, Die idealistische Philosophie und das Chris¬
tentum. Gesammelte Aufsätze (Gütersloh: Bertelsmann, 1926), pp. 291-307. This selection
consists, first, of brief excerpts from §§ 9, 13, 16, 17, 18, and 19 and, second, of the as¬
sembled summaries, or “dictata," that occur at the end of each § of the transcript, supple¬
mented by a few other passages.
93	In addition to the previously cited works by Hirsch, see Heinz Heimsoeth, Fichte (Mu¬
nich: Reinhardt, 1923), the first effort to employ the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo as the
basis for an overall interpretation of Fichte’s philosophy, and Max Wundt, Fichte-
Forschungen (Stuttgart: Frommann, 1929), which devotes an entire chapter to “the Wissen¬
schaftslehre of 1797.”
94	“Wissenschaftslehre nach den Vorlesungen von Herr. Fichte,” in Fichte, Nachgelassene
Schriften, II: 341-611.

Editor’s Introduction 35
ognized and where an Italian translation of the Halle transcript was
published in 1959).95 Finally, in 1978, the entire text was reedited by
José Manzana and others and published in Volume IV, 2 of the monu¬
mental new edition of Fichte’s collected works sponsored by the Bavar¬
ian Academy of Science.96
There has never been any serious dispute concerning the accuracy
and general reliability of this transcript. Everyone familiar with it has
concurred with Jacob’s judgment that it represents “a carefully pre¬
pared” and “intelligently produced” fair copy of a transcript of Fichte’s
lectures, a transcript that, “with respect to its content and meaning, is a
good and faithful one.” Moreover, according to Jacob, the text adheres
so closely to Fichte’s own conventions regarding such matters as punc¬
tuation and use of emphasis that one can safely conclude that it was pro¬
duced by someone intimately acquainted with Fichte’s own writings and
philosophy.97
Since the transcript in question gives no indication of the name of the
student (or students) responsible for its production, it is commonly re¬
ferred to simply as the “Halle transcript” of the Wissenschaftslehre nova
methodo and is herein identified as “H.” Furthermore, it also fails to in¬
clude any explicit indication of the date of the lectures it records. Con¬
sequently, scholars have been forced to comb the manuscript for internal
clues to its date—with uncertain results, as we will see below.
Meanwhile, in 1980, while on an exploratory expedition to the Säch¬
sischen Landesbibliothek in Dresden, Erich Fuchs, a researcher and full¬
time member of the editorial staff of the new Fichte edition, discovered
another, hitherto unsuspected transcript of the Wissenschaftslehre nova
methodo. This manuscript was titled “Fichte’s Vorlesungen über die Wis¬
senschaftslehre, gehalten zu Jena im Winter 1798—1799,” and its title
page also provided the name of the student responsible for the tran¬
scription: Karl Christian Friedrich Krause, who had attended Fichte’s
lectures as a student during the winter semester of 1798/99, who later
established a professional reputation of his own,98 and among whose
95	G. A. Fichte, Teoria della scienza 1798 “nova methodo," trans. Alfredo Cantoni (Milan:
Biblioteca de “II pensiero,” 1959). The díctala to H were translated even earlier by Luigi
Pareyson as “La seconda dottrina della scienza (1798) di G. A. Fichte,” Rivista di filosofía 41
(1950): 191-202. See too Arturo Massolo, Fichte e la filosofa (Florence: G. C. Sanzoni,
1948); Luigi Pareyson, Fichte—II sisteme della liberta (Turin: Edizione di Filosofía, 1950;
2d, expanded ed., Milan: Mursia, 1976); Pasquale Salvucci, Dialettica e immaginazione
(Urbino: Argalia, 1963); and Aldo Masullo, La communita come fondamento: Fichte Husserl
Sartre (Naples: Librería Scientifica, 1965).
96	“Wissenschaftslehre nach den Vorlesungen von Hr. Pr. Fichte,” in AA IV, 2, Kolleg-
nachschriften 1796—1804, pp. 1-267, ed. Reinhard Lauth, Hans Gliwizky, José Manzana,
Erich Fuchs, Kurt Hiller, and Pete Schneider (Stuttgart-Bad Cannstatt: Frommann, 1978).
97	Editor’s “Vorbericht” to Fichte, Nachgelassene Schriften, II: xi, xxxi.
98	Krause (1781—1832) began his studies at Jena in the winter semester of 1797/98,
where he remained until 1801, studying theology, philosophy, and mathematics. Though

Editor’s Introduction
literary remains the manuscript was discovered. Because of the extraor¬
dinary interest in this discovery, Fuchs published it only two years later
as Volume 336 in Felix Meiner’s “Philosophische Bibliothek” series"
and is currently reediting it for inclusion in the forthcoming Volume IV,
3 of the Bavarian Academy edition of Fichte’s works. This second tran¬
script, which is customarily called the “Krause transcript,” is herein desig¬
nated “K.” As in the case of the Halle transcript, the general vocabulary
and style of the Krause transcript are unmistakably Fichte’s own. No
other transcripts of Fichte’s lectures on Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo
have yet been discovered, though there is good evidence that other cop¬
ies or versions once existed.100
Comparison of H and K
As we have noted, Fichte first prepared his new presentation of the
first principles or foundations of his system for use in his lectures during
he attended lectures by Fichte, Schelling, and A. W. Schlegel, he appears to have been
most profoundly influenced by Fichte, especially during the winter semester of 1798/99
(that is, when he was attending Fichte’s lectures on Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo and pre¬
paring his transcript). On November 18, 1798, he wrote to his father (who greeted his
son’s report with understandable reservations) that he had decided to devote the semester
“entirely to the study of Fichte’s philosophy,” to which he intended to devote eight hours
every day (quoted by Fuchs in his introduction to the Krause transcript, p. x).
From the time of his arrival in Jena, Krause, who came from a family of very modest
means, seems to have hoped to earn some money by preparing copies of transcripts of
lectures delivered by various professors. Krause was also responsible for preparing (pre¬
sumably from notes taken by other students, since he himself did not enroll at Jena until
the winter semester of 1797/98) the first third of the Nachschrift of Fichte’s lectures
“Logic and Metaphysics” from the summer semester of 1797, which is published in A A IV,
1: 175-45°-
Subsequently, Krause became an instructor in philosophy, first at Jena, next at Dresden,
then, following Fichte’s death, in Berlin, where he tried in vain to become Fichte’s succes¬
sor, and subsequently in Gottingen and Munich. Krause went on to develop his own system
of philosophy, which was heavily indebted to Fichte. (Krause’s Nachschrift of the Wissen¬
schaftslehre nova methodo contains many marginal, mostly critical, notations, indicating that
Krause made frequent use of this manuscript in conjunction with his own lectures and
writings. Indeed, according to Fuchs, some of Krause’s later works reveal a direct debt to
his transcript of Fichte’s lectures on Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo.)
Today, Krause is perhaps best remembered for his campaign to create a “purely Ger¬
man” philosophical vocabulary, as well as for his efforts to establish, within the framework
of transcendental idealism, “a science of the art of living.” His most lasting legacy, however,
was his great influence upon progressive thinkers in late nineteenth-century Spain and
Latin America. For further information about Krause’s life, philosophy, literary achieve¬
ments, and historical influence, see Karl Christian Friedrich Krause (1781-1832): Studien zu
seiner Philosophic und zum Krausismo, ed. Klaus-M. Kodalle (Hamburg: Meiner, 1985), which
includes an extensive bibliography of writings by and about Krause.
99	J. G. Fichte, Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo. Kollegnachschrift Chr. Fr. Krause 1798/99
(Hamburg: Meiner, 1982).
100	See, e.g., the previously quoted reference to the copy commissioned for Carl Savigny
(above, n. 88).

Editor’s Introduction 37
the winter semester of 1796/97, and he used the same text in his lectures
during the the winter semesters of 1797/98 and 1798/99—though he
may well have revised the entire manuscript, or at least portions of it,
during these later semesters. As was his custom, he planned to publish
the text of his lectures, albeit in a revised form; and he began to do just
this when he published the first four installments of the Attempt at a New
Presentation of the Wissenschaftslehre in the Philosophical Journal in 1797/98.
In the passages in his letters in which he mentions his plan to publish
the new presentation, Fichte often referred to a single manuscript or set
of notebooks (“Heft,” or sometimes “Heften”) that he employed in his lec¬
tures on this topic. Some of Fichte’s lecture manuscripts have survived,
and what they reveal is precisely what one would expect: that he did not
always write out his lectures in complete detail and in finished form,
though he sometimes did just that; instead, he often jotted down incom¬
plete sentences, key words, abbreviations, and so on, which he obviously
then went on to develop in an appropriate, extemporaneous manner
during the actual delivery of his lecture. (This, of course, explains how
equally faithful transcripts of the same course of lectures from two dif¬
ferent semesters might differ in many details.) Nevertheless, Fichte’s sur¬
viving lecture manuscripts are much more than sketches or mere
“notes”; they are full-scale productions, in which, despite occasional syn¬
tactical gaps and stylistic lapses, the structure of the overall argument is
always clearly evident, as well as many of its details. (This, in turn, ex¬
plains how, for all of their differences, transcripts from different semes¬
ters could nevertheless have the same organization and repeat the same
arguments, if not always in precisely the same words.)
There can be no reasonable doubt that H and K are both transcripts
of the same lecture course, and any reader who actually compares the
two texts will reach this conclusion very quickly. The similarities are
striking: Both manuscripts are roughly the same length; moreover, each
is divided into nineteen §§, and each concludes with a separate section
titled “Deduction of the Subdivisions of the Wissenschaftslehre.” Further¬
more, each individual § is divided into the same number of sections in
both transcripts. The vocabulary and manner of expression are also the
same; indeed, the two transcripts occasionally contain virtually identical
passages. This is notably true of the important summaries that appear at
the end of each §. Such congruence is not surprising, since these sum¬
maries, unlike the main body of the text of the lectures, were carefully
and slowly dictated by Fichte to his students. Hence they are commonly
referred to as the “dictata” to the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo.
The two manuscripts also exhibit the same range of references. Both
make frequent reference to the “earlier presentation” contained in the
Foundations and the Outline; both include references to Fichte’s Founda¬
tions of Natural Right, as well as to his System of Ethical Theory (and in both

Editor’s Introduction
cases, these references to the latter works occur only in the second half
of the manuscript). Neither text, however, includes any reference to the
published portions of the Attempt at a New Presentation of the Wissen-
schaftslehre.101 In addition to Fichte’s own writings, both transcripts make
reference to the same works by Kant (and usually do so at exactly the
same place in the manuscript). Finally, when one turns to the actual con¬
tent of the two transcripts, the impression that they are simply different
versions of the same course (though perhaps not from the same semes¬
ter) is strengthened, for the argument is precisely the same in both ver¬
sions.
Striking as the similarities between the two transcripts are, there are
nevertheless obvious and significant differences between them as well.
To begin with, with the exception of the dictata, the two transcripts sel¬
dom correspond word for word, even where the detailed execution of
the argument is exactly the same. Furthermore, in addition to the “sec¬
ond introduction” (which corresponds to the introduction to H), K also
includes a “first introduction,” for which there is no parallel in H.101 102
Second, for the first three §§, K provides, in addition to the same dictata
that appear in H, alternate dictata, which are identified within the body
of the text as “(1798)” and within the compilation of the summary para¬
graphs (titled by Krause “Major Points of the Wissenschaftslehre 1798—
t799”) with which K begins as “older versions” of the same.103 Though
H, unlike K, includes nothing without some parallel in the other tran¬
101	The complete absence of any reference to the Attempt at a New Presentation (which be¬
gan to appear in the Philosophisches Journal in April 1797 and which one might have ex¬
pected Fichte to mention in his subsequent lectures on this subject) is something of a
mystery. The editors of AA IV, 2 cite this fact as evidence that at least the first portions of
H stem from 1796/97—though this does not necessarily mean H is a transcript of the lec¬
tures delivered during that semester, since it is surely possible that Fichte simply used lec¬
tures from 1796/97 at some later date, without bothering to update the references. In any
case, since K also includes no reference to the Attempt at a New Presentation, this lack cannot
be used to date either manuscript in relation to the other.
102	Concerning this “first introduction” (as well as its puzzling subtitle, “as presented in
public lectures”), Ives Radrizzani plausibly suggests that it did not form a part of Fichte’s
actual lectures on “the foundations of transcendental philosophy” (which was, as we have
seen, a private course). Instead, Radrizzani suggests that this “first introduction” is a tran¬
scription of the text of a public lecture that Fichte delivered before the beginning of the
winter semester and that, like the earlier Concerning the Concept, he intended as an “invi¬
tation” to attract prospective students to his private lectures on the subject. See the catalog
description of the 1796/97 lectures on Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo, which includes the
announcement, “During the vacation he will publicly announce the plan of his course on
transcendental philosophy.” Though no such announcement is included in the catalog de¬
scription of Fichte’s lectures on this subject in subsequent semesters, the content of the
“first introduction” of K corresponds precisely with this description.
103	In fact, K’s two versions of the dictat for § 3 are virtually identical. Since the text of the
“major points of the Wissenschaftslehre” with which Krause’s manuscript actually begins
does not differ substantially from the text of the dictata that appear at the end of each §
within the main body of the transcript, Fuchs did not include them within the Meiner edi¬
tion of the text. They will, however, appear in their proper place in AA IV, 3.

Editor’s Introduction 39
script, the latter portions of H do include a great many recapitulations
and summaries that do not appear in K.
As for content, though the argument is the same in each version, the
two manuscripts differ appreciably in the amount of space allotted to
different portions of the presentation. As a general rule, the earlier por¬
tions of the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo (especially §§ 1—6) are pre¬
sented more copiously and clearly in K than in H, whereas the later
portions of the presentation (especially §§ i3ff.) are developed in far
greater detail in H. (The overall quality of K deteriorates sharply in the
later sections, indicating perhaps that Krause was finally growing weary
of devoting eight hours a day to the Wissenschaftslehre.) Indeed, this dif¬
ferential unevenness in the quality of the two manuscripts is one of the
strongest arguments for producing a combined or conflated edition of
the two, as has been attempted in this English translation.
Dating the Krause Transcript
Since the title page of the Krause transcript of Fichte’s lectures on the
foundations of transcendental philosophy clearly indicates their date
(1798/99), the only question concerns when the surviving manuscript
was actually composed. Does it represent Krause’s actual class notes or is
it instead a more polished “fair copy,” composed at some point after the
lectures or even after the end of the semester?
The evidence suggests that Krause himself attended all sixty or so of
Fichte’s lectures during the winter semester of 1798/99, and he quite ob¬
viously took copious notes during each class period. In addition, he
must have had access to transcripts of earlier versions of the same
course, or at least to the dictata from some earlier version (as is indicated
by the appearance within his transcript of “older versions” of the first
three dictata). It is also possible that Krause may have had access to notes
taken by other students attending the same 1798/99 lectures and that he
may have consulted such notes in preparing a final version of his Kolleg-
nachschrift.
Though the experts are not in complete agreement on the matter,
it seems virtually certain that K is a fair copy produced at some point
after each of the actual lectures.104 Thus, the question is not whether the
104	A small bit of evidence that K is a revised, fair copy of Krause’s class notes is provided
by what appears to be an obvious error of transcription in the first paragraph of § 14 (K,
p. 152), where the word “Erfolgs” occurs instead of the word “Gefühls,” which is clearly
required by the context. As Fuchs points out (in a letter to the present translator), the
words Erfolgs and Gefühls are very similar in German script, especially when hurriedly writ¬
ten. Hence the most plausible way to explain the otherwise puzzling appearance of the
former at this point in the text is to assume that K is a fair copy, which Krause transcribed
at some later date from notes that he (or someone else) had previously (and hurriedly)

40 Editor’s Introduction
transcript was composed after class, but rather, How much time elapsed
between the actual lectures and the composition of K?
On the one hand, Erich Fuchs argues that the preponderance of the
evidence favors his hypothesis that K is a fair copy prepared between the
end of the semester (March 14, 1799) and August 25 of the same
year;105 Ives Radrizzani, on the other hand, questions the force of
Fuchs’s evidence and suggests that it is more likely that Krause recopied
his notes from each lecture during the course of the semester and did
not prepare the transcript all at once. (Indeed, Radrizzani wishes to
leave open the possibility that the text of K was transcribed by Krause
during Fichte’s lectures—though he fails to offer any explanation of the
presence within Krause’s transcript of “older versions” of the first three
dictata.)
In support of his hypothesis that K was completed by August 25,
1799, Fuchs calls attention to the fact that this date occurs in a marginal
note near the beginning of § 17, where Krause left several blank pages
in his notebook with the explanation that “the missing period was not
skipped. Instead, the text of the lecture was copied by mistake into an¬
other notebook and will be inserted later.” In support of the hypothesis
that the transcript was not actually begun until after the end of the se¬
mester, Fuchs cites a passage near the end of the “first introduction,”
which reads as follows: “We shall also discuss, in an explicit and thor¬
ough manner, the laws of reflection, in combination and in connection
with what proceeds from these laws. (This promise could not be fulfilled
because of a lack of time.)” According to Fuchs’s interpretation, the sen¬
tence in parentheses represents a comment by Krause and refers to the
“lack of time” available in 1798/99, which Fuchs also suggests may be ex¬
plained by recalling that the Atheism Controversy was in full bloom at
this point and that Fichte may have had to cut short or even cancel some
of his lectures because of external circumstances. In any event, if Fuchs’s
interpretation of this parenthetical remark is correct, then of course
Krause could not have inserted this comment before the end of the se¬
mester, and hence one would have to conclude that K was composed at
some point following the end of the winter semester of 1798/99.
In disputing this claim, Radrizzani argues106 that the reference to the
missing portion of the notes and the decision to leave several pages
blank for its later insertion, far from supporting Fuchs’s conclusion, in¬
dicate that K, if it is not the actual notebook in which Krause transcribed
Fichte’s lectures in class, was at the very least composed during the
course of the semester. After all, one would assume that if Krause had
taken in class. Further evidence that K was prepared after Fichte’s actual lectures is the
appearance therein of alternate dictata for the first three §§.
105	See Fuchs’s introduction to K, pp. x-xi.
106	See Radrizzani’s introduction to his French translation of the Wissenschaftslehre nova
methodo, pp. 27-32.

Editor’s Introduction 41
been making a fair copy at the end of the semester, he would have had
all his notes on hand and thus would not have been forced to leave sev¬
eral pages blank for later insertion of the missing lecture. On this inter¬
pretation, therefore, the date “August 25, 1799” represents merely the
date when Krause finally got around to inserting the missing section,
not the date he finished recopying the entire manuscript.
As for Fuchs’s other piece of evidence, the parenthetical remark about
the lack of time, Radrizzani points out, first of all, that there is no reason
why the uproar over atheism should have interfered with Fichte’s lec¬
tures on Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo, since these were presumably
based upon a manuscript prepared several years before the winter se¬
mester of 1798/99. Nor is there any indication within the text of K that
Fichte actually canceled or curtailed any meetings of his class during the
winter of 1798/99. Radrizzani plausibly suggests that the remark con¬
cerning the lack of time might well represent a comment of Fichte’s and
not of Krause’s. In this case, it would refer not to the 1798/99 lectures,
but rather to the 1794/95 presentation of the “Foundations of the Entire
Wissenschaftslehre.” In support of this hypothesis, Radrizzani points out
that the remark occurs in the context of an explicit comparison between
the published Foundations and the new presentation to be developed in
the 1798/99 lectures.
The most plausible conclusion seems to be that K represents a fair
copy that Krause made during the course of the semester, most probably
recopying each lecture directly after each class meeting. This hypothesis
simultaneously explains the presence of the “older versions” of the early
dictata in the manuscript (which surely must have been added after
Fichte’s classroom lectures) as well as the blank pages reserved for the
missing lecture (suggesting that at the time of K’s composition Krause
did not have convenient access to the missing notebook).107 Of course, it
still remains possible that the entire manuscript was prepared after the
end of the semester and that, for some unknown reason, Krause had to
wait until August to insert the missing portion.
Dating the Halle Transcript
As we have observed, it is not known who composed H or when it was
written. A comparison with the handwriting of G. E. Meyer, the professor
107	Further evidence that K was composed during the course of the semester and not
after the end of it is the fact (alluded to by Fuchs and stressed by Radrizzani) that an ex¬
amination of the ink and handwriting of K clearly indicates breaks in composition corre¬
sponding more or less precisely to the conjectured beginning and ending of each of
Fichte’s individual lectures. In the latter portions of H, a horizontal line is often employed
to mark the end of a day’s lecture, and Fuchs notes that the variations in the handwriting
of K match these breaks perfectly. See Fuchs, introduction to K, pp. xi—xii, and Radrizzani,
La Doctrine de la Science Nova Methodo, p. 30.

42 Editors Introduction
in whose collection of Kollegnachschriften H was discovered, reveals that it
was not copied by Meyer himself, who was not a student of Fichte’s and
who appears to have acquired his copy of the transcript only in 1836.
The age of this copy, as well as the date of the lectures it transcribes,
thus remain open questions. According to Jacob, the paper and style of
writing are consistent with the hypothesis that H was prepared at Jena
during the late 1790s.108 According to the editors of A A IV, 2, however,
variations in spelling and punctuation suggest that H may have been an
editorial compilation stemming from several different sets of notes, in
which case it might have been composed at any time between the orig¬
inal lectures and Meyer’s acquisition of it.
The more important question, however, is not when the surviving
copy of H was prepared, but which of Fichte’s three sets of lectures on
the foundations of transcendental philosophy it transcribes.
Let us begin by considering the internal evidence. As noted above, H
includes specific references to the System of Ethical Theory, which was not
officially published until March 1798. From this, Hirsch originally con¬
cluded that H could stem only from Fichte’s 1798/99 lectures.109 In fact,
however, printed fascicles of this text were distributed to students in
Fichte’s course on ethics in the winter semester of 1797/98 and were
therefore available to students in his course on the Wissenschaftslehre dur¬
ing the same semester.110 Accordingly, the presence of references to the
System of Ethical Theory within H eliminates only the winter semester of
1796/97 as the source of the Halle transcript, which is consistent with the
1797/99 dating proposed by Medicus and Berger.111 Indeed, the fact that
108	Nachgelassene Schriften, II: xxxi. Jacob also claims that the contents of H, in compar¬
ison with those of the published Attempt at a New Presentation, argue for a later date, since
H gives clearer prominence to the fact of self-consciousness as the starting point of the
Wissenschaftslehre than does the published Attempt at a New Presentation. In addition, he also
purports to find a significant difference between the vocabularies of the two versions.
Thus he maintains (p. xxx) that a comparison of H and the Attempt at a New Presentation
reveals that the contents of the latter are further removed from the 1794/95 version than
are those of the former. No other student of these texts, however, including myself, has
found Jacob’s claims on this matter to be convincing.
109	Fichtes Religionsphilosphie im Rahmen der philosophischen Gesamtentwicklung Fichtes (Göt¬
tingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 1914), p. 59 n. 3. Hirsch later changed his mind,
however, and admitted that H could stem from either 1797/98 or 1798/99 (Christentum und
Geschichte, p. Ö7n).
110	See editors’ introduction to Das System der Sittenlehre, AA I, 5: 7-8.
111	See Berger, Ueber eine unveröffentlichte Wissenschaftslehre, p. 9. Medicus, in the same
note that first called the attention of scholars to the existence of the Halle Nachschrift
(Fichte’s Werke, I: lxxx n), asserted that “the notebook stems, at the earliest, from the win¬
ter of 1797/98, but perhaps from the last Jena semester, winter 1798/99.” See too Medicus’s
remark in the “Nachtrag” to Vol. VI of Fichte’s Werke (p. 6i7n): “Future editors of Fichte’s
works are hereby notified that the university library at Halle [ . . . ] has a transcript of a
version of the WL which has not yet been published at all—presumably from the summer
[sic] of 1798 (at the earliest from the winter of 1797/98 and at the latest from the winter
of 1798/99)-”

Editor’s Introduction 43
the references to the System of Ethical Theory appear only in the second
half of the manuscript suggests that they were added during the winter
semester of 1797/98 (rather than 1798/99), since Fichte began distribut¬
ing sections of the printed text of the System of Ethical Theory to his stu¬
dents in December 1797 (that is, midway through the semester).112
The most recent editors of H (the editors of AA IV, 2) insist upon a
narrower dating, however, and conclude that the Halle transcript “must
stem from the winter of 1798/99, at least in part.’’113 As evidence for
this, they call attention, first, to the fact that the technical term Potenz
(“power”) occurs in § 16. According to the same editors, this term, which
is closely associated with the Naturphilosophie of Schelling and J. W. Rit¬
ter, “so far as can be determined, was first employed in Jena in a purely
philosophical sense only in the spring of 1799.”114 Moreover, they were
unable to find any occurrence of the term Potenz in any of Fichte’s pub¬
lished or unpublished writings before 1799, and thus they conclude that
H is most probably a transcript of the lectures of 1798/99. Second, they
note an elliptical reference in § 13 to “a Dutch scholar,” whom Fichte
praises for having raised a legitimate question concerning the difference
between practical and speculative reason. Speculating that this is an al¬
lusion to Paulus van Hemert’s Ueber die Existence der Principien eines reinen
uneigniitzigen Wohlwollens im Menschen, a work that first appeared in Ger¬
man translation in the winter of 1798/99, the editors of A A IV, 2 take
this reference to confirm their hypothesis that H could not be a tran¬
script of lectures delivered before 1798/99.
Nevertheless, it seems rather more likely that the bulk of H does in
fact stem from 1797/98, and for the following reasons: First of all, the
evidence purportedly furnished by the occurrence of the term Potenz
has recently been undermined by the discovery that Fichte himself em¬
ployed this term in precisely the same sense in his lectures “Logic and
Metaphysics” in the summer semester of 1798.115 Hence one certainly
cannot rule out the possibility that he also employed it a few months ear¬
lier in his “Foundations of Transcendental Philosophy” lectures during
the winter semester of 1797/98.
112	On the other hand, references to the Foundations of Natural Right, which was certainly
available before the beginning of the winter semester of 1797/98, are also confined exclu¬
sively to the second half of both H and K. In any case, the fact that Fichte’s citations from
the System of Ethics begin only in § 14 does not prove that H derives from the 1797/98 lec¬
tures, since the same is true of K as well. The only conclusion that one can safely draw
from these references to the System of Ethics is this: they are equally compatible with the
1797/98 and 1798/99 dates, though not with the date of 1796/97.
XÚAA IV, 2: 6.
1,4 Ibid.
1,3 This is reported by Juha Manninen in his research paper, “Hóijer und Fichte.
Ein System program m aus dem Jahre 1799,’’ in Transzendentalphilosophie als System: Die
Auseinandersetzung zwischen 1794 und 1806, ed. A. Mues (Hamburg: Meiner, 1989). See es¬
pecially pp. 269-73.

44 Editor’s Introduction
Second, as for the alleged reference to van Hemert’s book: if this iden¬
tification is correct, then it of course follows that H must stem from
1798/99.116 The allusion is sufficiently vague, however, to leave open the
very real possibility that Fichte may have had some other, as yet uniden¬
tified, “Dutch scholar” in mind.117 In any case, this appears to be a
rather slim reed to cling to in order to defend the later dating of H. (It
is worth noting, incidentally, that the corresponding passage in K—
which certainly does spring from 1798/99—does not include any refer¬
ence to “a Dutch scholar.”)
A final piece in this puzzle is provided by the notation “V 98,” which
appears early in § 11 of H118 and is written in a different ink and hand¬
writing than that of the Nachschrift itself. The editors of AA IV, 2 suggest,
quite plausibly, that this is a date, “May 1798.”119 If so, then the question
becomes, What does this date represent? The editors of AA interpret it
as evidence in support of their hypothesis that the text of H was com¬
posed of transcripts from different semesters, with the earlier portions
stemming from an earlier semester and the later portions from a later
one. Thus, they suggest that the notation indicates when the first por¬
tion of the manuscript (that is, up to the point where this date occurs)
was copied, while the rest was added at some later date. According to
their hypothesis, therefore, the first §§ of H might represent a transcript
of the 1797/98 (or even 1796/97) lectures, whereas the latter portions
could be a transcript of the 1798/99 lectures.120
116	As Radrizzani argues, however, even if one does take this vague remark of Fichte’s to
be a reference to van Hemert’s book, it is still difficult to explain its presence at this point
in H (§ 13). One can readily calculate that Fichte would not have reached this point in his
lectures until the end of January, whereas, as Radrizzani notes, “one can seriously doubt
whether Fichte would at this date have had sufficient time to become aware of the trans¬
lation of van Hemert’s book.”
117	This is the opinion of Fuchs as well, who now considers the identification of van
Hemert as the “Dutch scholar” in question to be “obsolete” (quoted by Radrizzani, La Doc¬
trine de la Science Nova Methodo, p. 35).
usAA IV, 2: 116.
119	As Radrizzani, who also treats this notation as an important clue for determining the
date of H, remarks: “One cannot see what else it could be” (Radrizzani, La Doctrine de la
Science Nova Methodo, p. 36).
120	See AA IV, 2: 12. With the publication of K, it is possible to test this hypothesis by
comparing the corresponding portions of the two transcripts. What one discovers thereby
is that there is no difference between the earlier and later portions of the two manuscripts
which would suggest that H is a composite transcript of notes from two different semes¬
ters; thus the hypothesis fails. Since K displays the same alleged discrepancies between its
earlier and later portions that H does, these same discrepancies cannot be cited in support
of the suggestion that whoever transcribed H was working with various sets of student
transcripts.
Even less compelling is the suggestion by the editors of A A IV, 2 (p. 12) that their “com¬
posite” hypothesis is supported by the words “nach den Vorlesungen” in the subtitle of H.
The word Vorlesungen (“lectures”) can just as easily refer to a set of lectures delivered in a
single semester as to several different sets of lectures.

Editor’s Introduction 45
If the notation represents a date at all, however, it could just as well
represent the date at which a particular reader of the transcript had
reached this point in the text.121 At the very least, the presence of the
date “May 1798” appears to refute the hypothesis that H stems entirely
from 1798/99, while the “composite” hypothesis is seriously undermined
by the fact that K shows a similar difference between its earlier and later
parts. Thus, if one agrees that, on the basis of internal evidence alone,
“the beginning parts appear to reproduce an older version and the later
parts a more recent version,”122 then one also has to concede that the
same could be said of K, which definitely stems in its entirety from 1798/
99. Thus any alleged differences between the “older” and “more recent”
portions of the presentations contained in H and K would in fact reflect
a difference between those portions of Fichte’s own lecture manuscript
which were composed earlier (presumably, 1796/97) and those that were
composed (or revised) at a later date (probably 1797/98). In short, there
is no reliable internal evidence that any portion of the main body of the
text of H can be traced to the winter semester of 1798/99.
Finally, let us consider the evidence of the dictata. As has already been
mentioned, these are virtually identical in the two transcripts, except for
the additional presence of three “older versions” of §§ 1-3 in K, where
they are also labeled by Krause “(1798).” This date raises several prob¬
lems. First, why should the “older versions” of the dictata to the first
three §§ be dated “1798,” when this was obviously the date of the “newer
versions” of the dictata for the first three §§ (October-November 1798)?
The most likely hypothesis is surely that these alternate versions repre¬
sent the dictata from the “previous presentation” of 1797/98 and that
Krause copied them from someone else’s notes, perhaps dated simply
“1798” (which was, of course, when the previous presentation ended).123
121	Of course, it might also indicate the date at which a particular copyist had reached
this point in the transcription. But this would not explain the different ink and handwrit¬
ing, though it would support the 1797/98 dating of H.
?22 AA IV, 2: 12.
123	^is 1s the view that Fuchs defends in his introduction to K (pp. xiv-xv). In contrast,
Radrizzani proposes in La Doctrine de la Science Nova Methodo (p. 26) that the versions dated
“1798” actually represent the “newer versions” of the first three dictata and that the un¬
dated versions are the “older” ones. It is, however, impossible to reconcile this hypothesis
with the fact that, in the summary of the “Major Points of the Wissenschaftslehre” with which
K begins, these “1798” versions are explicitly labeled “older versions.” Radrizzani addresses
this inconsistency by suggesting that Krause simply erred in identifying these passages as
“older versions.” But surely it is at least as likely that he erred when he identified them
within the main body of his text as stemming from 1798.
To buttress his hypothesis, Radrizzani calls attention to the fact that the two versions of
the dictat to § 3, one of which occurs at the beginning of the paragraph and is labeled
“(1798)” and the other of which occurs at the end of the same §, are virtually identical.
Radrizzani interprets this puzzling fact as follows (p. 27): When Krause added the “older
version” (according to Radrizzani, the version at the end of the §), he simply “failed to
recognize” the striking similarities between the two versions, for “if he had, he would have
become conscious of his error [that is, his error in thinking that these were two different

Editor’s Introduction
But if one accepts this hypothesis (and also believes that K and H stem
from different semesters), then how can one explain the fact that same
dictata appear in H and in K? If we assume that 1796/97 can be ruled out
as the date of the lectures upon which H is based, then (according to the
above hypothesis) we would expect that Krause’s “older versions” of
“1798” would correspond to the versions of the dictata found in H. In
fact, however, the dictata found in H are virtually identical to those
found in K, and H contains nothing similar to the “older versions” in¬
cluded in K. How can this be explained?
One possible explanation could be that H and K represent two dif¬
ferent transcripts of the same 1798/99 lectures. To accept this explana¬
tion, however, one would have to reject all the other evidence in favor of
an earlier dating of H; consequently, anyone who insists that the two
transcripts derive from two different semesters must propose some
other explanation for the appearance of the same dictata in H and in K.
Fuchs, for example, suggests that whoever copied the final version of H
had access to the dictata from 1798/99 (though, presumably, not to the
Nachschrift of the lectures themselves) and simply substituted these
“more recent” versions for the older ones.124 Another possibility is that
Krause simply erred in assigning the date 1798 to his “older versions”
of the first three dictata, which might have come from an even earlier
version of the same lectures (those of 1796/97), in which case it is quite
possible that Fichte used the same dictata in 1797/98 and in 1798/99—
which would explain the otherwise puzzling congruence of the two tran¬
scripts on this point. Admittedly, none of these possible explanations is
entirely satisfactory, and there remains a certain amount of mystery con¬
cerning the precise provenance of the dictata in H and of the “older ver¬
sions” in K.
Despite the ultimately inconclusive character of all this evidence, it
seems safe to conclude that H and K represent two different transcripts,
deriving from two different semesters, of Fichte’s lectures on Wissen-
schaftslehre nova methodo. The main evidence for this conclusion was un¬
available to the editors of A A IV, 2: namely, the many differences
between H and K. Granted, such differences cannot be said to prove that
versions of the dictat to § 3] and would have eliminated the parenthesis [that is, the date
“(1798)” with which he labels the dictat at the head of § 3].” Once again, however, this hy¬
pothesis is undermined by the text of the “major points,” where the two (nearly identical)
versions of the dictat to § 3 occur one after the other—making it extremely difficult to be¬
lieve that Krause could have somehow “failed to recognize” the similarities between the
two versions.
124	Introduction to K, p. xv. This suggestion is not as far-fetched as it might at first ap¬
pear. There is ample evidence that copies of the dictata to Fichte’s lectures circulated quite
independently of transcripts of the lectures themselves. See, e.g., Smidt’s letter to Herbart,
August 10, 1796, requesting a copy of the dictata from Fichte’s lectures on natural rights
(in Fuchs, ed., Fichte im Gespräch, I: 370).

Editors Introduction 47
the two texts stem from two different semesters; these differences may,
however, be said to establish this beyond any reasonable doubt.
As any experienced teacher can testify, different students can often
produce strikingly different sets of notes from the same lecture; and one
would expect this would be all the more true in the case of a lecturer like
Fichte, who was noted for his rapid delivery.125 Yet these Kolleg-
nachschriften are much more than mere class notes. They at least attempt
to approximate stenographic transcriptions of Fichte’s lectures, and
their very length suggests that few of Fichte’s words went unrecorded.
Yet when we compare the two manuscripts, we find that, with the ex¬
ception of the dictata, they contain virtually no identical passages and
often differ substantially. Not only do the wording and phrasing of the
two texts vary to a greater or lesser degree,126 but entire paragraphs,
such as the many summaries that occur in the later portions of H, ap¬
pear in one text but not in the other. Though the structure of the ar¬
gument—both in its general outlines and in its detailed execution—is
the same in the two texts, the examples that Fichte chose to illustrate his
points are not always precisely the same. Nor are the same references
always supplied in the two texts (as was noted above with respect to the
controversial allusion to “a Dutch scholar”). Finally, though both texts
include explicit comparisons between the new presentation of the first
principles of Fichte’s philosophy and the older version contained in the
Foundations and the Outline, the comparisons in K are more frequent and
more extensive than those in H.
Thus I agree with my fellow editors, Fuchs and Radrizzani, in reject¬
ing the hypothesis that H and K represent two different transcripts of
125	See the anonymous report on Fichte’s style as a lecturer in Fuchs, ed., Fichte im Ge¬
spräch, II: 96: “He never spoke slowly, but was almost always in a hurry.” This report, how¬
ever, should be compared with other, later ones which appear to conflict with it and which
emphasize the clarity of Fichte’s lectures and the deliberateness of his style as a lecturer.
See, e.g., Heinrich Kohlrausch’s 1804 report (in Fichte im Gespräch, III: 217) and the fol¬
lowing report, by August Twestan, on Fichte’s 1810 lectures “On the Study of Philosophy”:
“His manner of lecturing is a model for academic teachers, and especially for teachers of
philosophy. He speaks briefly, simply, and clearly, just as in the introduction to The Vocation
of Man; and one can see that he speaks not in order to demonstrate his eloquence, but is
concerned only with the subject matter. His speech is precise and is so well organized that
it is impossible not to follow him. He knows how to make his lectures clear by means of
frequent, but never extraneous, recapitulations and by repeatedly calling attention to how
everything is connected to the overall thread of the argument. Furthermore, he speaks
slowly and with appropriate pauses, so that it possible for everyone to retain an accurate
memory of what he said and to reflect upon it” {Fichte im Gespräch, IV: 269).
126	Though the technical vocabulary of the two presentations is in almost all cases the
same, there is at least one exception worthy of note: In § 17 (H, pp. i94ff.) the term In¬
begriff occurs in H in many passages where K continues to employ the term Zweckbegriff
(“concept of a goal”). The former term is never employed in this sense anywhere in K;
indeed, the work “Inbegriff ’ occurs only once in K, in the First Introduction, where it has
its usual sense of “substance” or “content” (K, p. 9). This minor difference is best explained
by the hypothesis that K and H are based upon lectures from two different semesters.

Editor’s Introduction
the same set of lectures.127 Moreover, since K undoubtedly comes from
1798/99, then H must be the earlier (1797/98) version—a conclusion
that follows, as Fuchs notes, “despite all the other indications that have
hitherto suggested a later dating for the Halle transcript.”128
At the same time, I also concur with the judgment of virtually all pre¬
vious editors and scholars, that H and K can nevertheless be treated as
two, slightly different transcripts of the same “new presentation” of the
foundations of the Wissenschaftslehre. This conclusion, which is inescap¬
ably suggested by a careful study of the content of the two transcripts, is,
in turn, reinforced by the fact that all the evidence clearly indicates that
Fichte himself employed the same manuscript each time he lectured on
Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo,129 though, like most accomplished teach¬
ers, he probably made various revisions, emendations, and new nota¬
tions in his manuscript each time he employed it, just as he surely added
different extemporaneous comments on each occasion. Furthermore,
the same evidence plainly suggests that the manuscript was first com¬
posed by Fichte in approximately 1796 and subsequently revised here
and there in 1797/98 and possibly in 1798/99 as well.130 Certainly the
127	See Fuchs’s introduction to K, p. xiv: “The attentive reader of both transcripts will
conclude from a comparison of the two that both can be traced to a common foundation,
namely the lectures on Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo based upon ‘notebooks’; the same
reader, however, will also conclude that these transcripts themselves stem from two (or
three) different courses of lectures. [ . . . ] Despite all the agreement, with which we are
now familiar, between the two versions of the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo—agreement
concerning content and structure, as well as concerning the order of the main thoughts, all
the way to the occasional agreement of their formulations—one can with great confidence
exclude the possibility that they were transcripts of one and the same set of lectures. The
differences in content, dimension, word order, and execution of details are too great” (p.
xiv). Radrizzani, though he quarrels with some of the evidence Fuchs cites, arrives at the
same conclusion on pp. 35-36 of the introduction to his French translation: viz., that there
is no positive proof that H stems from 1798/99, whereas there is considerable evidence
that at least parts of H stem from 1797/98 and no reason not to assume that the entire
transcript does as well.
128	K, p. xiv.
129	Hence the conclusion of the editors of AA IV, 2: “From a careful study of the
Nachschrift, one gains the impression that Fichte’s lectures became fixed in a written form
over a long period of time, and also that at least the later portions were later revised” (AA
IV, 2: 7).
130	There are, as already noted, minor discrepancies in Fichte’s own remarks on this sub¬
ject: in the “Public Announcement” (signed November 4, 1800), he reports that he has had
the manuscript on hand for “five years” (i.e, since November 1795!); in his letter to
Schmidt, March 17, 1799, he says he has been working on the new version “for three years”
(i.e., since the spring of 1796); in his January 31, 1801, letter tojohanssen, he claims that
he has had the manuscript “for four years” (i.e., since the beginning of 1797).
See the conclusion drawn by the editors of A A IV, 2: 9: “Most probably, Fichte began the
first drafts in the winter of 1795/96 or in the spring of 1796. In the first part of 1796,
however, he had so much to do in conjunction with his work on the Ethics that his work on
the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo did not progress as he had hoped, and thus he had to
cancel the projected course on the foundations of transcendental philosophy [originally
announced for the summer of 1796]. In the fall of 1796 he could, once again, dedicate
himself completely to work on this project. Assuming that he proceeded in his customary

Editor’s Introduction 49
dictata were revised, as is confirmed by the presence in K of “older ver¬
sions,” and the references to the System of Ethical Theory must also have
been added at some point after 1796/97.
Consequently, though K is a transcript of the 1798/99 lectures and H
can be traced back to 1797/98 with a fair degree of reliability, one is nev¬
ertheless entitled to speak of both these manuscripts as transcripts of
the “Wissenschaftslehre of 1796/99,” or simply as two different presenta¬
tions of “the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo.”* 131 Accordingly, the present
translation treats K and H as two, complementary transcripts of two dif¬
ferent sets of lectures deriving from a single manuscript or set of lecture
notes. Though Fichte’s own manuscript has apparently vanished, we can
attempt to reconstruct it by combining in a single text the contents of K
and H and, where necessary, emending each in the light of the other.
Though some questions still remain concerning the precise wording of
specific passages here and there, the general style, vocabulary, and man¬
ner of argument of these two transcripts are immediately recognizable
as Fichte’s own. When appropriately conflated, the two transcripts con¬
stitute a complete whole, with no gaps in the argument or any obvious
shortcomings in the presentation—a whole that is, from the point of
view of anyone trying to understand and analyze the Wissenschaftslehre of
1796/99, clearly superior to either of the two transcripts considered by
itself. The result, I believe, is the closest we are ever likely to come to an
accurate and complete version of Fichte’s Jena lectures titled “Founda¬
tions of Transcendental Philosophy (Wissenschaftslehre) nova methodo.”
manner, it follows that his composition of the ‘notebooks’ was preceded by a preliminary
draft, which could be what is referred to by the earliest dates mentioned (winter 1795/96,
spring 1796).” Moreover, these same editors quite plausibly interpret the previously
quoted passage in Fichte’s March 17, 1799, letter to Schmidt, where Fichte reports that he
has been working on the new version for three years (“seit drei Jahren habe ich eine neue
Darstellung bearbeitet"), as evidence that he continued to work on it throughout this period.
131	This was also the conclusion drawn by the very first scholar to make a detailed study
of the Halle transcript, Emanuel Hirsch (see Fichtes Religionsphilosophie, p. 5gn). Hirsch
subsequently reaffirmed this conclusion in Christentum und Geschichte, p. 67m where he
wrote: “From the winter semester 1796/97 on, Fichte’s Jena lectures were always based
upon a single notebook; consequently, with respect to its contents, we may treat the tran¬
script [H] as representing the Wissenschaftslehre of 1796.”

PRINCIPLES OF THE
EDITION AND TRANSLATION
The Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo is a fascinating and important doc¬
ument that not only occupies a central role in the development of Fich¬
te’s philosophy but richly deserves and handsomely repays intensive
study in its own right. Hence it is particularly unfortunate that no copy
of this text in Fichte’s own hand has survived. But this misfortune is at
least partially rectified by the fact that we possess two different, though
equally detailed, student transcripts of Fichte’s lectures on this subject.
Though each of these transcripts appears to be “complete,” neither is
entirely satisfactory, and each contains passages of extraordinary obscu¬
rity. Fortunately, the deficiencies of each are, as a general rule, reme¬
died in the other. The first half of the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo, for
example, is presented more clearly and in greater detail in K, whereas
H’s presentation of the second half is generally preferable to that of K.
Thus anyone who wishes to understand the Wissenschaftslehre nova meth¬
odo is advised to study both texts. For this reason, the present translation
represents a composite or conflated text of the two.
Nevertheless, some readers may object in principle to placing so much
authority in the hands of the editor and may wish to reach their own
decisions concerning the adequacy or inadequacy of the two transcripts.
Accordingly, the following text provides a complete translation of K,
supplemented by the inclusion, within the main body of the text, as well
as within the notes, of a great many passages from H.1 Moreover, these
additions from H are all clearly indicated (see below). Thus, with a bit
of effort, any reader who wishes to do so can ignore all the insertions
from H and can concentrate solely upon the text of K.
1	K has been chosen as the basis for the translation because, of the two transcripts, it
exhibits somewhat greater systematic unity and is, on the whole, better written. This is also
the judgment of Ives Radrizzani, whose French translation follows a similar strategy of
rendering K in its entirety, supplemented by passages from H. Nevertheless, well more
than half of the entire text of H is included in the present English translation.

Principles of the Edition and Translation 51
Despite the complexity of the editorial apparatus, every effort has
been made to produce an English text that is as accurate and as readable
as possible (though these two goals are not always readily reconcilable).
For the convenience of readers who may wish to compare the translation
with the German originals, the pagination of both H and K has been
provided in the margins, and in many instances the original German
text is provided in the (numbered) footnotes. The specific principles and
conventions governing this edition are as follows.
Integration of K and H: The basis of the present edition is a complete
and continuous translation of the entire text of K. In addition, a large
number of passages from H have been incorporated within the main
body of the text, where they are always enclosed within scroll brackets or
braces. Additional passages from H are included within the notes. In or¬
der to distinguish them from the rest of the editorial apparatus, notes
providing supplementary passages from H are always designated by su¬
perscripted capital letters, rather than numbers.
When one carefully compares the two transcripts, it is a relatively easy
task to determine where the insertions from H should be made in the
text of K. When and how often such insertions should be made is a more
difficult question. Since the two texts are very rarely exactly the same,
one must exercise editorial judgment in deciding which passages from H
to translate, as well as which to include within the main text and which
to relegate to the footnotes.
The inserted passages from H include (1) those that have no direct
parallel in K and (2) those that clarify, explain, and expand upon points
that are inadequately or obscurely presented in K. In addition, H con¬
tains a few passages that appear to conflict with the text of K. All such
passages are translated in the notes, as are certain passages from H
which merely provide interesting alternate formulations of points pre¬
sented in K.
Editorial interpolations: Occasionally, each transcript contains gaps or
ambiguities that cannot be remedied by incorporating material from the
other transcript. In such cases, editorial interpolations have been in¬
serted. Such interpolations are always placed within square brackets.
Numbering of sections: In his manuscript, Krause experimented with
various different ways of indicating the sections of each of the nine¬
teen §§ into which the entire presentation is divided: sometimes
employing letters, sometimes numbers; sometimes placing his sec¬
tion numbers at the left margin, sometimes indenting them, and some¬
times arranging them as centered headings; sometimes enclosing the
section numbers within parentheses, and sometimes not. H displays

52 Principles of the Edition and Translation
similar inconsistencies. The translation, in contrast, follows a single, con¬
sistent scheme of placing the section number in parentheses at the left
margin of the first sentence of each section.
Paragraphing: Whereas the text of H is broken into many short para¬
graphs, the paragraphs of K (like those of Fichte’s own published writ¬
ings) are typically much longer, though occasionally interrupted by
dashes (Gedankenstriche). The translation follows the paragraphing of the
original texts, with the following exceptions: (1) Paragraph breaks have
sometimes been introduced where a dash occurs in K, and (2) new para¬
graph breaks have occasionally been introduced into the text of K in
cases where the content (as can usually be confirmed by a comparison
with H) clearly indicates a change of subject matter in the middle of a
paragraph. Every paragraph break I have introduced is clearly indicated
by the symbol “■.
Sentence structure: Though the English translation attempts to pre¬
serve the style and feel of the original German texts, the canons of En¬
glish usage have sometimes made it necessary to break up some of the
longer sentences in both H and K. Again, I have attempted to keep such
departures to a minimum.
Use of emphasis: The manuscripts of H and K are both written pri¬
marily in German script, though each employs Latin script on occasion
as well. Though usually employed to transcribe foreign words or Ger¬
man words with a foreign root, the Latin script is sometimes used simply
for emphasis. In addition, both K and H also employ underlining (and
double underlining) as a mode of emphasis.2 3 The published German
texts of H and K preserve these distinctions by means of elaborate ty¬
pographical devices (normal type to indicate normal German handwrit¬
ing, italics to indicate terms underscored in the manuscripts, and small
capital letters to indicate words and passages written in Latin script).
Though the translation attempts to follow the originals in their use of
emphasis, no effort has been made to preserve the distinction between
Latin and German script. Thus the words written in Latin script are
2	The paragraphing of K is also interrupted on those occasions when a paragraph break
is included within a passage from H which is inserted within a paragraph from K.
3	Neither K nor H is consistent in the use of either Latin script or underlining. For ex¬
ample, whereas Krause sometimes transcribed the entire text of a dictat in Latin script, on
other occasions Latin script is employed only for the first line of the dictat, and sometimes
the entire dictat appears in German script. Obviously, here again Krause was simply ex¬
perimenting with various ways of composing his transcript. (The translation ignores these
experiments and employs normal type for the dictata.) Or, to take another example,
whereas the words Ich and Nicht-Ich generally appear within H in Latin script, this con¬
vention is not always followed (especially in the latter portions of the text). In contrast,
these same two words are almost always written in plain German script in K.

Principles of the Edition and Translation 53
here printed in italics only in cases where the Latin script seems to have
been employed for the sake of emphasis and not simply to transcribe a
word with a foreign root. Words underlined in K and H are here printed
in italics, except in cases where the context clearly argues against this or
in cases (such as citation of names or “mention” of terms) where English
employs different conventions from German. In the latter cases, the em¬
phasis is either dropped altogether or else replaced with quotation
marks. No new emphasis has been introduced in the English translation.
In short, the translation follows the German originals in the use of em¬
phasis, though not slavishly, and is somewhat more consistent in its use
of italics for such things as titles, headings, and so on than either of the
German texts.
Annotation: As already mentioned, lettered footnotes provide sup¬
plementary passages from H. Numbered footnotes provide a variety of
different sorts of historical and philological information: (1) Some notes
identify or provide further information concerning persons, works, cir¬
cumstances, and events that Fichte mentioned or alluded to in the text
of his lectures. (2) Some notes indicate proposed corrected readings of
the text—whether based upon a comparison of the printed text with the
original manuscript,4 upon a comparison of H and K, or simply upon
considerations of context and content. (3) Many of the notes address
specific issues of translation and include, wherever it would be helpful,
citations from the German text. (Note that these quotations reproduce
the often eccentric orthography of the originals.) (4) On rare occasions,
the notes include a few words of explanation or commentary, but only
where the ambiguity of the text makes such commentary indispensable.
Page numbers of the German text: The page numbers of the Felix
Meiner edition of the text of K are supplied in the left margin of the
text. Page numbers of H (as published in AA IV, 2) are supplied, within
parentheses, in the right margin.5 Page references to H are also sup¬
plied, again in parentheses, following each of the supplementary pas¬
sages translated in the notes.
Translation: While my goal has been to make these texts of Fichte’s
lectures as readable and as accessible as possible to a broad Anglophone
audience, I have also attempted to address the more specialized concerns
4	I am especially grateful to Erich Fuchs for his invaluable assistance in identifying such
errors of transcription in the Meiner text of K.
5	Marginal page references to H are supplied only where material from H appears
within the body of the translation. That is, a page reference to H is provided at the point
of the first occurrence within the text of the translation of a passage from that particular
page of H.

54 Principles of the Edition and Translation
of scholars and of readers with some knowledge of the German lan¬
guage: hence the large number of citations from the original German
text.
Every effort has been made to preserve as much consistency and uni-
vocity as possible in the rendering of key terms (indicated in the
German-English glossary), though, of course, a sensitive and accurate
translation demands a certain latitude and flexibility in this regard as
well. As a general rule, long-standing conventions for rendering certain
technical, philosophical terms into English (e.g., Vorstellung =
“representation” and Anschauung = “intuition”) have been respected,
though there are some exceptions. For example, Ich is here rendered as
“I,” rather than as “ego” or “self,” and Vermögen is translated as “power”
or “ability,” rather than as “faculty.” Furthermore, Wissenschaftslehre,
which means “theory” or “doctrine” of “science” or of “scientific knowl¬
edge,” and which is customarily—albeit quite inaccurately—rendered as
“Science of Knowledge,” is here treated as a term of art and is not trans¬
lated at all.
In this case, as in every other, translation remains a matter of com¬
promise and interpretation. This fact, however, is as much of an incen¬
tive as an obstacle to the philosophically inclined translator, who may
take some comfort in the fact that Fichte insisted that “my theory should
be expounded in an infinite number of ways” and conceded that “ev¬
eryone will have a different way of thinking this theory—and must think
it differently, in order to be thinking this very theory.”6 This, therefore, is
the underlying goal and purpose of the present volume: to assist those
who wish to “think” Fichte’s Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo in a new and
different way—that is, in English.
6	Letter to Reinhold, July 2, 1795.

GERMAN/ENGLISH GLOSSARY
abbilden
ableiten
die Absicht
der Accident
afficieren
die Agilität
der Akt
anerkennen
anhalten
anknüpfen
anschauen
das Anschauen
das Anschauende
die Anschauung
die Ansicht
auffassen
die Aufforderung
der Aufgabe
aufhalten
aufheben
aufnehmen
aufstellen
die Ausdehnung
(sich) äussern
das Beabsichtigte
die Bedingung
die Begierde
begreifen
to portray
to derive
intention
accident, accidental property or feature
to affect, to have an effect on
agility
act
to acknowledge, to recognize
to arrest, to bring to a halt
to attach, to connect, to tie or to hold
together
to intuit
intuiting, act of intuiting
the intuiting subject
intuition
view, point of view, opinion, way of looking
at, appearance, aspect, perspective, the
way something looks
to grasp, to interpret, to construe (to pick
out)
summons
task, assignment
to bring to a halt, to arrest
to cancel, to annul
to assimilate, to take up, to absorb, to
accommodate
to present, to exhibit, to display, to set up
expansion
to express
what is intended
condition (for the possibility of)
desire
to comprehend, to grasp, to grasp in or by
means of a concept
[55]

German/English Glossary
das Begreifen
das Begreifende
die Begrenztheit
der Begriff
die Beharrlichkeit
das Beruhen
die Beschaffenheit
die Beschränktheit
die Beschränkung
bestehen
bestimmbar
die Bestimmbarkeit
bestimmen
das Bestimmen
bestimmt
die Bestimmtheit
das Bestimmtsein
beweglich
die Beweglichkeit
der Beweis
beweisen
das Bewusstsein
das Bild
bilden
binden
die Causalität
der Charakter
darstellen
die Darstellung
das Dauerende
die Denkart
denken
das Denken
das Denkende
der Denkzwang
der Drang
die Einbildungskraft
die Einschränkung
einwirken
die Einwirkung
empfinden
die Empfindung
der Endzweck
(act of) comprehending, comprehension
the comprehending subject
limitation, state of limitation
concept
constancy
(state of) rest
structure, constitution, (set of) properties
limitation, state of limitation
limitation
to subsist (to endure)
determinable
determinability
to determine, to specify
determining, specifying, act of deter¬
mining
determinate, determined, specific
determinacy, determinate state, precision
determinate being
movable, mobile, changeable
mobility
proof, argument
to prove, to demonstrate
consciousness, act or state of consciousness
image
to form or entertain images, to shape, to
form
to constrain, to bind
causal power, causality
characteristic feature, feature, character,
nature
to present, to expound, to exhibit, to
portray
presentation, exposition, portrayal
that which endures
way or manner of thinking
to think, to conceive of
thinking, act of thinking
the thinking subject
intellectual compulsion, feeling of being
compelled to think in a certain way
impetus
(power of) imagination
limitation, restriction
to exercise an effect on
effect, influence, efficacious action
to sense, to have a sensation
sensation
final goal

German/English Glossary 57
entgegensetzen
entschließen
der Entschluß
entwerfen
erblicken
ergreifen
erkennen
das Erkennen
die Erkenntnis
erweisen
die Evidenz
fixiert
das Fixiertsein
die Folge
die Forderung
fortdauern
das Fühlbare
das Fühlende
für sich
gebunden
die Gebundenheit
das Gefühl
das Gefundene
der Gegensatz
gegensetzen
das Gegensetzen
der Gegenstand
das Gehaltene
der Geist
geistlich
das Gemüth
das Gesetztsein
die Gewalt
der Glaube
glauben
das Glied
die Grenze
die Größe
der Grund
die Grundeigenschaften
die Haltbarkeit
halten
handeln
das Handeln
die Handlung
hemmen
to oppose, to posit in opposition
to resolve, to decide
decision
to construct, to project
to view, to catch sight of, to observe
to apprehend
to cognize, to recognize
cognizing, cognition
cognition
to demonstrate, to show
self-evidence
fixed, stabilized, arrested
fixedeness
sequence, consequence, result
demand
to endure
what can be felt
the feeling subject
for itself, by itself
constrained, bound
constraint, constrained state
feeling
what is found or discovered
opposite, opposition
to oppose, to posit in opposition
(act of) opposing, (act of) opposition, (act
of) positing in opposition
object
that which is brought to a halt
mind, spirit
mental, intellectual, spiritual
mind
being-posited
power
belief, faith, confidence
to believe, to have confidence in, to trust,
to think
element, member, term, link
limit, boundary
magnitude, quantity
ground, foundation, basis, reason
elementary qualities
stability
to bring to a halt, to arrest, to restrain
to act
acting, instance (mode or type) of acting
action
to curb, to obstruct, to restrict

German/English Glossary
herausgreifen
to select, to choose
herausreißen
to wrench out of
hervorbringen
to produce, to generate
das Hinderniss
obstacle, hindrance
das Ich
the I
die Ichheit
I-hood
die Idee
Idea
die Intelligenz
intellect, intelligence
kennen
to be acquainted with, to know
die Körperwelt
corporeal world
die Kraft
force, energy
die Lehre
theory, account (philosophy, system)
leiden
to be passively affected
das Leiden
passivity, passive state, state of passivity
losreißen
to wrench away, to tear away
machen
to produce, to make
das Machen
productive activity, act of producing,
productive act
das Machende
the productive subject or agent
mannigfaltig
manifold, multiple
das Mannigfaltige
manifold, multiplicity
die Mannigfaltigkeit
multiplicity
das Material
material, content
die Materie
matter, content
das Merkmal
attribute, distinctive feature
nachbilden
to copy
nachmachen
to imitate, to copy
nachweisen
to establish, to show
das Nichtdürfen
prohibition
das Nichtlch
the Not-I
das Objekt
object
das Objektive
objective (element)
die Praxis
practice, practical activity
das Prinzip
principle, first principle
rässonieren
to argue, to calculate, to reason
das Rässonnement
argumentation, argument, line of
reasoning
realisieren
to realize, to make real, to bring into bei
das Recht
right, law, justice
die Reflexion
(act of) reflecting, (act of) reflection
die Ruhe
repose, state of repose, passive state,
stability
ruhend
in a state of repose, passive, stable
die Sache
content, matter, subject
der Satz
proposition, principle
schweben
to hover, to oscillate
die Selbständigkeit
self-sufficiency
das Selbstgefühl
self-feeling, feeling of self

German/English Glossary
59
die Selbsttätigkeit
die Sensibilität
setzen
das Setzende
der Sinn
die Sinnenwelt
sinnlich
die Sinnlichkeit
die Sittlichkeit
stehend
stetig
die Stetigkeit
die Stimmung
der Stoff
der Stoß
das Suchen
die Tat
die Tathandlung
das Tätige
die Tätigkeit
der Trieb
das Tun
das Uebergehen
übersinnlich
die Unbestimmtheit
die Verbindung
die Vereinigung
das Verfahren
verknüpfen
das Vermögen
die Vernunft
versinnlichen
der Verstand
verständlich
das Vorbild
das Vorhandsein
vorschweben
vorstellen
das Vorstellende
die Vorstellung
wahrnehmen
die Wahrnehmung
wechselwirken
self-activity, spontaneous self-activity
sensibility
to posit
the (actively) positing subject
sense
sensible world
sensible, sensuous
sensibility, sensuousness
morality
stable
constant, continuous
continuity
mood, disposition
matter, material, content, object, stuff
impact, stimulus
quest
deed, act
Act
the active subject or being
activity
drive
doing, instance or type of doing, act of do¬
ing something
movement of transition, passage, move¬
ment, transition
supersensible
indeterminacy, state of indeterminacy
connection, bond
unification, union
process, operation
to connect, to tie together
power
reason
to make sensible, to sensibilize
understanding
intelligible
model, ideal préfiguration
presence, being present
to hover before, to have (something) in
mind
to represent, to have or to entertain repre¬
sentations
the representing subject
representation
to perceive
perception
to interact, to stand in a relationship of re¬
ciprocal interaction

6o German/English Glossary
die Wechselwirkung
widerstehen
der Wille
die Willkür
wirken
das Wirken
wirklich
die Wirklichkeit
wirksam
die Wirksamkeit
die Wirkung
wissen
die Wissenschaft
das Wollen
das Ziel
(in sich selbst) zurückgehend
das Zusammenfassen
der Zusammenhang
zusammensetzen
Zusehen
der Zustand
der Zweck
(reciprocal) interaction
to resist
will
choice, free choice, power of (free) choice
to act efficaciously, to operate, to have an
effect upon, to affect
efficacious acting, accomplishment
actual
actuality
effective, effectively
efficacy, efficacious power
effect
to know
science
willing, act of willing
goal, object
self-reverting
act of combining, combination
combination, connection
to combine, to assemble, to posit together,
to compose
to witness, to observe, to look at
state
goal, end (aim, purpose)

ABBREVIATIONS
AA
EPW
GEWL
GWL
H
K
KGS
KRV
SK
SW
WLnm
J. G. Fichte: Gesamtausgabe der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften.
Ed. Reinhard Lauth, Hans Jacobs, and Hans Gliwitsky. Stuttgart-
Bad Cannstatt: Frommann, 1964— (This definitive edition is pub¬
lished in four parts, each of which consists of many separate
volumes. Cited by section, volume, and page number.)
Fichte: Early Philosophical Writings. Ed. and trans. Daniel Breazeale.
Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1988.
J. G. Fichte. Grundriß des Eigentümlichen der Wissenschaftslehre in Rück¬
sicht auf das theoretische Vermögen (1795). (Cited according to the pag¬
ination of the edition in SW, I.)
J.	G. Fichte. Grundlage der gesamten Wissenschaftlehre (1794/95).(Cited
according to the pagination of the edition in SW, I.)
The “Hallesche Nachschrift” of WLnm (1797/98?). (Cited according
to the pagination of the edition in A A IV, 2.)
The “Krause Nachschrift” of WLnm (1798/99) = Johann Gottlieb
Fichte. Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo. Kollegnachschrift K. Chr. Fr.
Krause. Ed. Erich Fuchs. Hamburg: Meiner, 1982.
Kants gesammelte Schriften. Ed. Königlich Preußischen Akademie der
Wissenschaften. Berlin: Reimer/de Gruyter, 1902—. (Cited by volume
and page number.)
Immanuel Kant. Kritik der reinen Vernunft (First ed. [A], 1781; second
ed. [B], 1787).
Fichte: The Science of Knowledge. Ed. and trans. Peter Heath and John
Lachs. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982 (orig. 1970).
Johann Gottlieb Fichtes sämmtliche Werke. Ed. I. H. Fichte. Berlin: Veit,
1845-46. (Cited by volume and page number. The SW pagination is
also indicated in the critical editions of many of Fichte’s writings in
AA,	as well as in the English translations of Fichte’s writings in EPW
and SK.)
J. G. Fichte. Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo (1796/99). (Usually cited
as K or H, above.)
[61]

KEY TO SYMBOLS AND NOTES
{} All material enclosed with braces or scroll brackets is inserted into the
text of K from H.
[] Everything within square brackets is added by the editor/translator.
A Footnotes marked by a superscripted letter provide additional, supple¬
mentary passages from H.
Footnotes marked by a superscripted number provide philological and
other information and are added by the editor/translator.
■ This solid square at the beginning of a paragraph indicates a paragraph
break introduced into the text of K by the editor/translator.
The numbers in the left-hand margins refer to the page numbers of the text of
K, as published by Felix Meiner.
The numbers in the right-hand margins (within parentheses) refer to the page
numbers of the text of H, as published in AA IV, 2 (and are provided only where
material from H appears within the main body of the English text).

Foundations of Transcendental Philosophy
(Wissenschaftslehre) Nova Methodo
(! 79^99)

The Major Points of the
Wissenschaftslehre of 1798—1799
Fichte’s Dictata to His
Lectures on the Wissenschaftslehre
Winter Semester 1798-1799
(his last lectures on this topic)1
§ 1
The Concept of the I. Intellectual Intuition.
(newer version)
Postulate: Construct the concept of the / and observe how you accom¬
plish this.
It was claimed that if one does what one is asked to do one will dis¬
cover that one is active and will discover in addition that one’s activity is
directed upon one’s own active self Accordingly, the concept of the I
comes into being only by means of a self-reverting activity; and conversely,
the only concept that comes into being by means of such an activity is
the concept of the I. By observing oneself while engaged in this activity,
one becomes immediately conscious of it; i.e., one posits oneself as self-
positing. As the sole immediate form of consciousness, this immediate
1	This is Krause’s title for the general summary he placed at the beginning of his
Nachschrift. Krause’s subtitle notwithstanding, this was not to be the last time that Fichte
lectured on the Wissenschaftslehre. He began a new series of lectures on the topic in Berlin
only a year after his departure from Jena and continued to deliver new lectures on the
Wissenschaftslehre at various intervals throughout the rest of his life. This was, however, his
last series of lectures on the topic at Jena.
The following summary of the “major points” or “chief propositions” {Hauptsätze) of
Fichte’s Wissenschaftslehre, with which Krause’s manuscript commences, is simply a compi¬
lation of the carefully dictated summaries (“dictata”) that occur at the end of each of the
nineteen §§ into which the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo is divided. For this reason, per¬
haps, Erich Fuchs did not include this preliminary section in his published edition of
Krause’s transcript. Though there are some minor differences between the versions of the
summaries which appear within the text of the lectures and the transcriptions assembled
here, only those changes that seem to involve some shift of meaning are explicitly noted.
The translation of these “major points” departs from Krause’s manuscript in several

66 Major Points of the Wissenschaftslehre
consciousness of oneself must be presupposed in the explanation of all
other possible varieties of consciousness. It is called the original intuition
of the I. (The word “intuition” is here employed in both the subjective
and the objective sense. For intuition can mean two different things: (a)
it can refer to the intuition which the I has, in which case the I is the
subject, the intuiting subject; or ((3) it can refer to that intuition which is
directed at the I, in which case the intuition is objective, and the I is the
intuited object.)
One will further observe that one is unable to posit oneself as acting
without positing a state of repose in opposition thereto. Whenever a
state of repose is posited, a concept is produced—in this case, the concept
of the /.
(older version of § 1)
All consciousness is accompanied by an immediate self-consciousness,
which is called intellectual intuition, and this immediate self-consciousness
must be presupposed if one is to be able to think at all. Consciousness,
however, is an activity, and self-consciousness, in particular, is the self-
reverting activity of the intellect, or pure reflection. Remark: Everything
follows as a consequence of carrying out the indicated self-observation.
This pure act of reflection, viewed as a concept, is thought of by the I.
Accordingly, I posit myself simply by means of myself, and all other con¬
sciousness is conditioned by this act of self-positing.
§ 2
Relation of the I to the Not-I.
(newer version)
It was claimed that when one constructs the concept of the I one will
also discover that one cannot posit oneself as active without positing this
activity as self-determined, and that one cannot do this without positing
a movement of transition from a state of indeterminacy or determinability—
minor respects: (i) The page layout is different. Krause arranged his content headings
(which, presumably, derive from Krause himself and not directly from Fichte) in a column
on the left side of his pages and the summaries themselves in a column on the right side
of the same pages. (2) As in the main body of the Nachschrift, two virtually identical versions
of § 3 are also included in the “major points,” and here too only one of these (the “more
recent” version) is translated. (3) The second paragraph of Fichte’s summary of § 17 is not
included in Krause’s compilation of “major points” but has been included here. (4) As in
the main body of the text, words and passages are occasionally inserted from the text of
the dictata appearing at the end of each § of H. Such insertions are always enclosed within
braces or scroll brackets.

Major Points of the Wissenschaftslehre
which movement of transition is itself the very activity one is here ob¬
serving (see sections 1 and 2 above). Similarly, one cannot grasp the
concept {of the 1} which comes into being by means of the determinate
activity without determining this concept by means of an opposed Not-I.
What is determinable is the same as what was previously called the state
of repose (§ 1), for it becomes determined precisely by being trans¬
formed into an activity. Moreover, that which, in relation to the intuition
of the I, is a concept of the I, is for the Not-I an intuition. More specif¬
ically, it is the concept of the act of intuiting (section 4). As a consequence of
this opposition, the Not-I can be characterized as the {real} negation of
activity; that is, it can be characterized as “being,” which is the concept of
canceled activity. The concept of-being is thus by no means an original
concept, but is a negative one, derived from activity.
(older version of § 2)
When this very activity of reflection, through which the intellect pos¬
its itself, is intuited, it is intuited as a self-determining agility; and this
agility is intuited as a movement of transition from a state of passive re¬
pose and indeterminacy, which is nevertheless determinable, to one of
determinacy. This determinability here appears as the power to think ei¬
ther of the I or of the Not-I, and thus the concept of determinability
necessarily involves the concepts of the I and the Not-I, which are pos¬
ited in opposition to each other. Accordingly, whenever one engages in
self-active reflection each of these concepts appears as something inde¬
pendent of this act, and the characteristic feature of the Not-I is being,
i.e., a negation.
§ 3
Actual Consciousness. Freedom.
One will find that this movement of transition (from what is deter¬
minable to what is determinate, § 2) possesses its foundation utterly
within itself. The action involved in this transition is called real activity
and is opposed to that ideal activity which merely copies the former, and
the overall activity of the I is thereby divided between these two types of
activity. In accordance with the principle of determinability, no real ac¬
tivity can be posited without also positing a real or practical power. Real
and ideal activity mutually condition and determine each other. Neither
is possible without the other, nor can one comprehend what either of
them is without also comprehending the other. In this act of freedom
the I itself becomes objective. An actual consciousness comes into being,
and from now on anything that is to be an object of consciousness at all

68 Major Points of the Wissenscha/tslehre
must be connected to this starting point. Freedom is therefore the ulti¬
mate ground and the first condition of all being and of all consciousness.
§4
The Character of the I as the Identity
of Practical Power and Intellect.
Free self-determination is intuitable only as a determination to become
“something,” of which the self-determining or practical {power} must
possess a {freely constructed} concept. A concept of this sort is called
“the concept of a goal.” Consequently, for the intuiting subject, the same
subject who possesses practical power at the same time possesses the
power to form concepts, just as, conversely, the comprehending subject, or
{the power of} the intellect, must necessarily be practical. Practical power
and intelligence are inseparable. Neither can be thought of apart from
the other. The {true} character of the I thus lies in this identity.
§5
Intuitability of the Activity of the I by Means of
the Synthesis of Resistance.
For intuition, what is determinable becomes an infinitely divisible manifold,
because it is supposed to be the object of a free choice on the part of ab¬
solute freedom. This must also be true of what is determinate, since it is a
part of this manifold. What is determinate and what is determinable are,
to this extent, similar. What distinguishes them is this: In the first case,
the action intuited is merely possible, i.e., an action posited by an intel¬
lect that is oscillating between opposites; in the second case, the action
intuited is {actual, i.e.,} an action posited by an intellect that is bound to
a determinate series of the manifold. Action2 is activity that is constantly
resisted, and it is only by means of this synthesis of resistance {with activity}
that an activity of the I becomes intuitable.
§6
Drive and Feeling.
A free action is possible only if it is guided by a freely constructed con¬
cept of this action (§ 4); consequently, in advance of all action, the free 22	Reading “Handlung” for “Hemmung.” The summary of § 5 which appears within the
text of the lectures (in both K and H) reads “action” {Handlung) instead of “constraint”
{Hemmung), a word that makes little sense in this context and is presumably an error in
transcription on Krause’s part. In fact, the context makes it clear that what Fichte is re¬
ferring to here is neither “constraint” nor “action” per se, but rather “constrained action.”

Major Points of the Wissenschaftslehre
intellect must be acquainted with the possibilities of action. Such an ac¬
quaintance can be explained only by assuming the presence within the I,
prior to all action, of a drive, within which, precisely because it is only a
drive, the inner activity of the I is limited. Since nothing pertains to the
I which it does not posit, the I must also posit this limitation, and an
original limitation that is posited in this way is called a ‘feeling. ”3 Since a
free choice or selection is supposed to take place, a manifold of feelings
must be present, and these various feelings can be distinguished from
one another only through their relationship to the general system of
feelings, a system that is likewise originally present.
§ 7
Feeling of the Object and Intuition of the Ideal.
An intuition is necessarily connected with every feeling; for feeling is
limitation, but a limitation that is not opposed to an activity is nothing.
That within the I which necessarily remains an activity, however, is its
ideal power. The point of union between feeling and intuition is this: even
as the I feels itself to be limited (in its real aspect), it also feels itself to be
engaged in intuiting (in its ideal aspect). To the extent that intuition is
directed at the limitation, this limited state of the I becomes a mere ob¬
ject, with no relation to a subject, and the intuition is felt to be con¬
strained in the depiction of the object. A feeling of this sort, however, is
impossible apart from an opposed feeling of freedom; consequently, the
intuition is also, in another respect, felt to be free, and to this extent it is
an intuition of the ideal.
§8
The Concept of the I and the Concept of the Not-I.
An intuition of the I is necessarily connected with an intuition of the
Not-I, and only through the former does the latter become an intuition
at all. In order to explain this intuition of the I, however, one has to as¬
sume an alteration in the state of [the Is] feelings, i.e., a limitation of its
limited condition, through which the I itself becomes limited in the in¬
tuition of the Not-I. From this alteration there arises a feeling of this
particular limitation of the ideal activity, from which there then arises
an intuition of the same. The ground of the union of the intuition of the
I and the intuition of the Not-I is this: no constraint can be posited within the
3	“so etwas nennt man ein Gefühl.” The translation interprets K’s “so etwas” in the light
of the parallel passage in H: “(so ein setzen der ursprünglichen Beschränkung).”

JO Major Points of the Wissenschaftslehre
intuition of the Not-I without also positing freedom in opposition to it. All free¬
dom, however, pertains to the /, and only by means of freedom does the
intuition of the I become an intuition of the I. But an intuition accom¬
panied by a consciousness of the intuiting subject is called a “concept”
Therefore, the concept of the I and the concept of the Not-I both arise from
the postulated alteration in the system of feeling.
§ 9
The Thing and the Representation of the Thing.
The act of comprehending is a free act of reflection upon the previ¬
ously derived intuition, and it is posited as a free act. The freedom of the
act of reflecting upon intuition cannot be posited, however, unless this
act of reflection4 is itself posited as such. Accordingly, we obtain a two¬
fold view of the act of reflection, and along with this, a twofold view of
the object of the same. (That is to say, the double aspect of the act of
reflection is present for the philosopher, whereas what is present for the
I is the double aspect of the object.) In the first instance, [we are con¬
cerned with] the act of reflection as such, without any further reflection
thereupon, and this furnishes the object that is present without any help from
the /. In the second instance, [we are concerned with] the act of reflec¬
tion as a particular determination of freedom, which is itself reflected
upon, and this furnishes the representation of the thing.
§ ioa
Acting as Drawing a Line. Space.
The act of comprehending is posited as a freely occurring act; this
means that {it} is posited by the intellect as an act that can either occur
or not occur, and indeed, as a specific mode of acting in general (for oth¬
erwise nothing at all would be posited). Consequently, acting as such or
in general is posited, and it is posited as something that can occur or not
occur—though acting is not possible “in general” unless one or another
4	“aber die Freiheit der Reflexion auf sie kann nicht gesetzt werden, außer in wiefern
sie selbst überhaupt gesetzt ist.” The antecedent of the second sie in this clause is uncer¬
tain and might be either “the act of reflection” (die Reflexion) or “the intuition” {die
Anschauung), though the context appears to support the former. Indeed, the correspond¬
ing passage in H (p. 98) explicitly refers to both and states that “the freedom of this act of
reflecting upon intuition cannot be posited except insofar as these (i.e., the act of reflec¬
tion, as well as intuition itself) are already posited as such.” It should be noted, however,
that this same passage in H (“außer er inwiefern die[se] (Reflexion, Anschauung selbst)
überhaupt schon gesezt ist”), with its plural subject and singular verb, also appears to be
defective.

Major Points of the Wissenschaftslehre 7 1
specific mode of acting is posited. Consequently, this “acting in general”
exists for the intellect only as an instance of free acting—but no instance
of “free acting” can be present for the intellect without “acting as such”
or “in general” being present for it [as well]. However, the I intuits its
sheer acting, considered as such, as an act of drawing a line, and hence it
intuits its indeterminate power to act in this way as space.
§ 10b
Matter in Space.
Since the positing of the object and the positing of acting are neces¬
sarily united within the I, the former (the object) and the schema of the
latter [i.e., space] must necessarily be united as well. But uniting an ob¬
ject with space is the same as filling space; consequently, all objects nec¬
essarily occupy space, that is, they are material. The freedom of the
intellect consists in (i.e., expresses itself in) the synthesis of an object,
which is determined by the predicates of feeling, with a place in space,
which is determined by spontaneity; and, in this way, space becomes
continuous, and space, as well as matter, becomes infinitely divisible. The
determinacy of the latter (the intellect), without which the former (free¬
dom) is impossible and which is not possible without the former, consists
in this: that the object must be posited in some space or another,5 6 and
that space must be filled with some sort of matter. There is no space with¬
out matter, and vice versa. This is a matter of necessity; but it is a matter
of freedom that this object is not situated just in this space and that this
space does not belong just to this object.
§ 11
A Rational Being Posits Itself in Space as a
Practically Striving Being.
Every object obtains its place in space from its relation to the represent¬
ing subject, and, apart from this relationship, no determination of place
is possible. Anything that is supposed to determine the position of an¬
other thing in space, however, must itself be in space. Accordingly, a ra¬
tional being posits itself in space as a practically striving being. This
internally felt striving, which obtains the form of intuition through the
act of intuiting the object (an act that is necessarily united with feeling),
5	“in einen Raum überhaupt”: that is, “in space as such or in general.”
6	“mit Materie überhaupt.”

72 Major Points of the Wissenschaftslehre
is the original and immediate standard of measure for every determination of
place. It is not possible to posit anything in space without also discovering
oneself to be in space, but one cannot discover that one is in space unless
one posits an object in space.
§ 12
Real External Efficacy.
Our striving, or our practical acting, is, according to the preceding §,
the standard of measure for all spatial determination. Inner or pure force
is the efficacy of willing, as intuited immediately and therefore intellec¬
tually. Through such willing, the entire free power of the I is focused
upon a single point. Outer or physical force is this same energy, but ex¬
tended by sensible intuition in a temporal series, in which series the man¬
ifold of the power of feeling, as determined by the causality of the will, is
brought into a relationship of dependence; and it is only through this
relationship of dependence that this manifold can be assimilated to the
unity7 of consciousness. A physical force of this sort, however, can be
posited only in [the context of] some real efficacy, from which it follows
that any determination of the place of things—and thus consciousness
itself—is possible only in consequence of some real efficacy.
§ 13
The Intelligible Pure Will. The Feeling of “Ought.”
The I as an Individual in the Realm of Rational Beings.
Real efficacy is possible only in accordance with a concept of a goal; a
concept of a goal is possible only on the condition of a cognition; and
such a cognition is possible only on the condition of a real efficacy; con¬
sequently, consciousness would not be explained by this circle. There
must therefore be something that simultaneously is an object of cogni¬
tion and is efficacious.8 All these features are united in only one thing:
in pure will, which must be presupposed prior to all empirical willing and
to all empirical cognition. This pure will is something purely intelligible,
but it can express itself through a feeling of “ought,” and in this way it be¬
comes an object of thought. To the extent that this occurs, pure willing
is assimilated into the overall form of thinking as something determi¬
7	Reading, with the version of this paragraph which appears at the end of § 12 in both
K and H, “Einheit” instead of “Freiheit” (“freedom”).
8	Reading, with the version of this paragraph which appears at the end of § 13 in both
K and H, “das Object der Erkenntni{3 und Wurksamkeit” for “das Object der Erkenntni{3
und der Wirksamkeit” (“an object of cognition and of efficacy”).

Major Points of the Wissenschaftslehre 73
nate in opposition to something determinable. In this way, I, the willing
subject, become an individual, and there comes into being for me a realm
of rational beings, as what is determinable in this case. Consciousness in its
entirety can and must be derived from this pure concept.
§ 14
Willing and Doing.
Unification of Cognition of the Object with the Will.
The pure will is the immediate object of all consciousness and of all
reflection (§ 13). Reflection, however, is discursive; consequently, the
pure will must be a manifold. It is not originally manifold, but first be¬
comes so by being related to its own {original} limitation, by means of
which it {first} becomes a will. This relation of the pure will to its own
limitation occurs within the act of reflection itself, which is absolutely
free; and the freedom and entire essence of this act of reflection consist
precisely in this act of relating9 {the pure will to the original limitation}.
The freedom of this act consists, in part, in the fact that such a relation¬
ship is established at all and, in part, in the fact that it occurs in this or
that way. Insofar as it is simply thought of, this act of reflection appears
as an act of willing; insofar as it is intuited, it appears as a “doing. ” This
same act of reflection is the foundation of all empirical consciousness.
In an individual act of such reflection, a rational being views itself in
two different ways or under two different aspects. On the one hand, it
views itself as limited; on the other, it views itself as active in describing
this limitation. The former is its outer aspect, the latter is its inner one;
and, as a result, it ascribes to itself a general organ {(a body)} consisting
of an inner and an outer organ. Feeling is the relation of limitation to
reflection. The source of the limitation is something that exists only for
the ideal activity engaged in thinking about the real activity, and the
immediate union of cognition of an object with the will is thereby
explained.
§ 15
The I’s Task of Limiting Its Will by Itself.
But a limitation is not a limitation of the I, and does not exist for the
I, unless it is one the I assigns to itself. Accordingly, the original limitation
of the will can signify nothing but a task for the I: the task of limiting
its own will. The distinctive harbinger of this task within empirical
9	Reading, with H, “Beziehen” for K’s “Beziehung” (“relation”).

74 Major Points of the Wissenschaftslehre
consciousness can be nothing other than a concept that demands a spe¬
cific self-limitation, and it is by grasping this concept that feeling and
intuition first arise. Consequently, all consciousness begins with the act
of thinking of something purely intelligible.
§ 16
The Summons to Engage in Free Activity,
Coming from a Rational Being10 Outside of Us.
Viewed from another side, this task of limiting oneself is a summons
to engage in a free activity (for it does not appear to come from the in¬
dividual; instead, it appears to come from a rational being outside of us).
We cannot determine ourselves, however, unless our act of self-
determination is accompanied by an actual act of willing; consequently,
consciousness of an actual act of willing is inseparably linked with this
perception of a summons to freedom.
§ 17
In its Activity upon Itself the I
Discovers11 Itself as a Willing Subject.
As we know, the I is what acts upon itself,12 and, by virtue of this self-
directed activity, it is a willing subject. “The I discovers itself”: this ob¬
viously means that it discovers itself to be engaged in acting upon itself.
The I discovers13 itself to be a willing subject in this self-directed activity,
because its original nature—which cannot be derived from anything
higher, but must instead be presupposed for {the possibility of} any ex¬
planation—consists in an act of willing. Every object of {the I’s} free re¬
flection upon itself must consequently become its own willing.
Every act of reflection is an act of self-determining, and the reflecting
subject immediately intuits this act of self-determining. But it intuits this
act through the medium of the imagination, and, accordingly, it intuits
it as a sheer power of self-determination. By means of this abstract act of
thinking (as a power) the I arises for itself as “something”—something
purely spiritual,14 something exclusively ideal—and becomes conscious
10	“einer Vernunft.”
11	Reading, with the text of the summary that appears at the end of § 17 in H, “findet”
for K’s “fiihlt” (“feels”).
12	Reading, with H, “das auf sich selbst thatige” for K’s “das durch sich selbst thatige”
(“what is active through itself”), a reading that is confirmed by the rest of this paragraph.
13	Reading, with H, “findet” for K’s “fuhle.”
14	“ein rein Geistiges,” i.e., something purely “intellectual.”

Major Points of the Wissenschaftslehre f 5
of its own activity of pure thinking and willing, and becomes conscious
of it as such, {that is, as an activity}. This act of reflection, however, is an
act of self-determining; but the previously described act of imagination
is an act of the I, and it is therefore determinate. Consequently, in one
and the same undivided act, pure thinking is made sensible by the imag¬
ination, and what is made sensible by the imagination is determined by
pure thinking (reciprocal interaction of intuiting and thinking). This
determination produces a self-contained power of the I as a sensible
force, as well as a determinacy of this power15 16 * (concept of substantiality).
An object is added in thought to the determinacy of this sensible force,
and the latter determines the former in an act of thinking (concept
of causality).
§ 18
The I in Opposition to Reason and Freedom Outside of Itself
as well as in Opposition to Things Outside of Itself.
Since the I, when engaged in the act of intuiting its own act of pure
thinking, is at the same time determinate, this same pure act of thinking
(that is to say, the I as a product of this act of thinking, the I as a free
being) necessarily becomes something determinate for the I. But a free
being, as such, can be determined only by the task of freely determining
itself. When the I thinks of this, it proceeds from a general sphere of
freedom as such (as what is determinable) to itself (as what is determi¬
nate within this sphere) and thereby posits itself as an individual, in op¬
position to a {realm of} reason and freedom outside of itself.
In this determinate act of thinking, the I is at the same time free, and
it thinks of what is determinate only insofar as it does so with freedom;
consequently, it also confers freedom upon what is determinate. But
freedom within mere determinacy (as in nature) is independent being.16 In
this manner, a being that is independent of the I is attributed to the Not-
I, which first becomes a thing thereby. Insofar as the Not-I possesses this
type of being, it is what endures and is determinable throughout all
the different determinations it receives through the freedom of the I.
The act of thinking of the I as a free but limited being and that of think¬
ing of the Not-I as a self-subsisting thing17 mutually condition each other.
The I intuits its own freedom only in the objects of its acting, and it in¬
tuits these objects only insofar as it freely acts upon them.
15	Reading, with H, “derselben” for K’s “desselben”(“of the I”).
16	“ist Seyn durch sich selbst.” More literally: “being through itself’ or “self-
supported being.”
'^“als für sich bestehenden Dinges.”

Major Points of the Wissenschaftslehre
§ 19
Articulated Body. Organized Nature.
When the limitation of the I is made sensible and is perceived, it ap¬
pears as a summons to act freely. What is perceived in this case appears to
us as a limitation of our physical force—assuming that we confine our¬
selves to ourselves. Accordingly, a physical force outside of us is posited as
what determines this limitation. The physical force in question is gov¬
erned (this is to be understood practically, that is, only in the sense of
positing it as engaged in real activity)18 by the will of a free individual out¬
side of us, an individual who is determined and characterized by this will.
(I.e., the individual in question is this determinate will, from which the
existence of a rational being is first inferred.) What is determinable in
this case {(what is determined by the freely determining agent and is, for
us, a determinacy)19} provides us with the concept and the perception of
an articulated body, a person, outside of us.
This, the body, is a product of nature and consists of parts, which consti¬
tute this determinate whole only in their union with one another; there¬
fore, nature contains within itself the law that its parts must necessarily
unite to form wholes, which, in turn, constitute one single whole. Nature
is both organized and organizing; insofar as a sensuous, rational being out¬
side of me is posited, nature is therefore posited. This exhausts the sphere
of what must necessarily be present within consciousness.
Remark: Nature is {a complete whole and is} explicable {through itself}
only insofar as it is both organized and organizing. Otherwise, one will
be driven further and further afield by the law of causality, {if one as¬
sumes this law as one’s explanatory rule}.
18	“(ist praktisch zu verstehen, nur im wirklichen Activitatsetzen).”
19	“Das Bestimmbare davon (von dem freyen bestimmenden, das fur uns Bestimmtheit
ist).”

First Introduction
(presented in public lectures)1
This introduction will address the following three questions:
I.	What is philosophy?
II.	How will philosophy be dealt with within the context of the system
of the Wissenschaftslehre?
III.	How has the previous version of this system2 been altered, and how
will the Wissenschaftslehre be dealt with in this series of lectures?
Re. I: No mere definition of philosophy will be provided, no mere for¬
mula that would simply stand in the way of any further thought. In¬
stead, we will show what philosophy is by proceeding in a genetic
manner. That is to say, we will describe how it happens that the human
mind begins to philosophize.
We will take it for granted that one assumes that things exist outside
of oneself. In support of this assumption one appeals to one’s own inner
state. It is from within oneself that one obtains this conviction: one is
conscious of an internal state from which one infers the existence of ob¬
jects outside of oneself. But of course, one is conscious only insofar as
1	Fichte’s course of lectures on the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo [henceforth WLnm] was
a private course, i.e., one open only to officially enrolled (and paying) students. Public lec¬
tures, in contrast, were free and open to the entire university community. Fichte obviously
intended this “public introduction” to the Wissenschaftslehre to attract prospective students
to his course of private lectures and to provide them with some idea of what to expect. The
numbers in the left margin of this translation refer to the page numbers of the German
text of Krause’s typescript as edited and published by Erich Fuchs (K).
2	GWL and GEWL. Together, these two published works constitute the “previous pre¬
sentation” to which Fichte makes frequent reference throughout the present text. Fichte’s
own page references are to the first editions of these two works, but the translation sub¬
stitutes references to the texts contained in the first volume of the readily available SW.
The translations of GWL in SK (pp. 89-286) and GEWL in EPW (pp. 243-306) provide
marginal page references to SW, I, as do the editions of GWL and GEWL included in AA
I, 2 and I, 3.
[77]

78 First Introduction
one entertains representations;3 hence all one can say is that one is con¬
scious of representations of things outside of us, and in fact, one really
asserts no more than this when one says that there are objects outside of
us. No person can immediately affirm that he has senses, but merely
that he is compelled to assume something of the sort. Consciousness is
concerned only with what can be found within consciousness—and
these are representations.
■4 Nevertheless, we do not content ourselves with this, but quickly in¬
troduce a distinction between the representation and the object; and we
assert that beyond the representation there lies something else, some¬
thing real or actual.5 As soon as we become aware of this distinction be¬
tween the representation and the object, we say that they both exist. All
rational beings (even idealists and egoists, so long as they are not stand¬
ing behind a lectern) continuously affirm the existence of an actual
world. Any person who has raised himself to the level of reflecting upon
this phenomenon occurring within the human soul must be astonished
at the inconsistency this appears to involve. Hence one poses the follow¬
ing question: Why do we assume that actual things exist, beyond and
in addition to our representations? Many people do not raise this ques¬
tion, either because they do not notice the distinction between represen¬
tations and things, or simply because they are too thoughtless to raise
such a question. But anyone who does pose this question has thereby
raised himself to the level of philosophical inquiry. The aim of philo¬
sophical inquiry is to answer this question, and the science that answers
it is philosophy.
Whether there actually is such a science is a question that must remain
undecided for the moment. It is, however, well known that much effort
has already been devoted to attempts to answer the previously indicated
question; for this has always been the task of philosophy. In trying to
answer this question, however, most philosophers have proceeded in a
one-sided manner, and hence their answers had to be one-sided as well.
They thought, for example, that all they had to do was to inquire
3 What Fichte actually says is that insofar as one is conscious, one is a “representing
creature” or a “representing being” (ein vorstellendes Wesen). Throughout this translation,
all technical occurrences of the term Vorstellung have been rendered as “representation.”
Fichte’s employment of this term is derived from Kant (and Reinhold), for whom it des¬
ignates the immediate object of consciousness, i.e., that which is “placed before”—vorge-
stellt—the mind (cp. Locke’s “ideas” or Hume’s “perceptions of the mind”). Thus the verb
vorstellen, which is somewhat awkwardly rendered here as “to represent” or “to entertain
representations,” means no more than this: to have something “on one’s mind,” i.e., to be
conscious of anything at all.
4A11 paragraph breaks that I have introduced into the text of K are marked by the sym¬
bol
5 “liege noch etwas wtirkliches.” The adjective wirklich, which is often rendered as “real”
but is normally translated in this volume as “actual,” derives from the verb xvirken, the root
meaning of which is “to have an effect.” Fichte fully exploits this intimate etymological con¬
nection between efficacy and reality (“actuality”).

First Introduction ^9
whether God, immortality, and freedom exist, i.e., whether there is any¬
thing actual outside of these representations and corresponding to
them. But the question philosophy has to answer is not whether these
particular representations possess any reality, but rather whether any of
our representations possess any reality whatsoever.
In maintaining that something else exists in addition to a particular
representation, one asserts the objective validity of that representation.
Thus, to inquire concerning the objective validity of the Deity means to
investigate whether God is merely a thought, or whether there is some¬
thing else, beyond this thought, which corresponds to it. The question
concerning the objectivity of the world is every bit as interesting as those
concerning the objectivity of the Deity and of immortality, and if one
has not answered the former question one cannot answer the latter ones.
Philosophy is thus something that is at least conceivable; that is to say,
it is conceivable that one might ask about the objectivity of our repre¬
sentations, and it is worthy of a rational being to ponder the answer to
this question. The Idea of philosophy6 is thereby demonstrated, but the
only way in which its reality can be demonstrated is by actually construct¬
ing a system of philosophy.
Just as the human mind can pose these questions, so can it also pose
many other ones, which it can then proceed to answer or to attempt
to answer. If this occurs in conformity with specific laws it is called
“reasoning,”7 and a science comes into being thereby, but not yet phi¬
losophy, which is devoted solely to answering the previously indicated
question.
Re. II: To be sure, people also philosophized in former times, but only
in an obscure manner, not yet based upon any clear concept. The ques¬
tion concerning the objective validity of our representations has been
particularly insisted upon by the skeptics. It was one of the greatest of
these skeptics, Hume, who awoke Kant.8 Kant, however, constructed no
6	“Die Idee der Philosophie.” “Idea” (or “transcendental Idea”) is a term Kant employed
to designate a “necessary concept of reason to which no corresponding object can be given
in sense-experience” (Kritik der reinen Vernunft, A327/B383 [henceforth KRV and cited ac¬
cording to the pagination of both the first (1781 = A) and second (1787 = B) editions;
English translation by Norman Kemp Smith, Critique of Pure Reason (New York: Macmillan
Press, 1963)]). Kant’s examples include the concepts (“Ideas”) of God, freedom, and im¬
mortality. In order to remind readers of the technical, Kantian background of this term,
“Idea” is capitalized throughout this translation.
7	“so wird RAESONNIRT.”
8	See Kant’s famous remark in the Preface to his Prolegomena zu einer jeden künftigen Meta¬
physik (1783) about being awakened from his “dogmatic slumbers” by his reading of Hume.
In Kant’s Gesammelte Schriften, ed. Königliche Preußischen Akademie der Wissen¬
schaften (1902-10; rpt., Berlin: de Gruyter, 1968) [henceforth KGS], IV: 260. English
translation by Lewis White Beck, Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics (Indianapolis:
Bobbs-Merrill, 1950).

80 First Introduction
system, but only wrote Critiques, i.e., preliminary inquiries concerning
philosophy.9 Yet when one grasps in a systematic matter what Kant says,
especially in the Critique of Pure Reason, one can see that he correctly con¬
ceived the question philosophy has to answer, which he expressed as fol¬
lows: “How are synthetic judgments a priori possible?”10 His own answer
was that, in producing representations, reason acts with a certain neces¬
sity and in accordance with certain laws, and whatever is brought about
by means of this necessity and through these laws possesses objective va¬
lidity. Kant, therefore, is not concerned with things in themselves, with
some sort of existence possessing no relation to a representing subject.
■ It was a great misunderstanding to think that what Kant presented
in his Critiques constitutes a system. The following objections may be
raised against those who believe this:
(1)	All the human mind’s modes of acting,11 as well as the laws gov¬
erning the same, are not systematically established by Kant, but
are merely picked up from experience. Consequently, one cannot
be certain:
(a)	that Kant’s list of the laws governing the human mind’s nec¬
essary modes of acting is exhaustive, since he has not proven
them.
(b)	how far their validity extends.
(c)	According to Kant, the most remarkable expressions of the
human mind—namely, thinking, willing, and feeling pleasure or
pain—cannot be traced back to a first principle, but are merely
coordinated.
(2)	The most important task of all, namely, to prove that and how our
representations obtain objective validity, has not been accom¬
plished. Kant proves his philosophy only by means of induction
and not through deduction. His philosophy states that conscious¬
ness would be explained if one were to assume the operation of
this or that law, and thus it possesses only hypothetical validity.
To what extent may one acquiesce in such a philosophy, and to what
extent should one refuse to be content with it? Why must one go any
further? A person who ingenuously surrenders himself to the dictates of
his own reason has no need of philosophy. Would it not then be better to
dispense with philosophy altogether, and indeed, to advise anyone who
no longer surrenders himself in this naive manner to his own reason to
retain his faith in the truth of his own consciousness?
9	For Kant’s own affirmation of precisely this point, see KRV, Ai 1/B25.
10	See Kant, KRV, B19.
11	“Das gesammte Handeln des menschlichen Geistes.” In order to preserve the distinc¬
tion between “das Handeln” and “die Handlung,” the former is normally translated as
“acting” (or occasionally, as here, “mode[s] of acting” or “instancefs] of acting”), whereas
the latter is always rendered as “action.”

First Introduction 81
■ It is a good thing to have an ingenuous confidence in the dictates of
one’s own consciousness, but such is not the vocation of mankind; in¬
stead, it is mankind’s destiny to strive constantly for well-grounded
cognition.12 We are ceaselessly driven to seek well-grounded conviction;
and anyone who has arrived at the point of philosophical doubt cannot
be sent back along the path he has already traversed, but will always seek
to resolve his doubts on his own. Such a person finds himself in a painful
state, which not only disturbs his inner peace, but also interferes with his
external acting; for him, therefore, such a state is practically harmful.
The idealist who denies the reality of the corporeal world nevertheless
never ceases to rely upon this world just as much as the person who be¬
lieves in its reality. Although the idealist’s doubt has no immediate effect
upon his life, the contradiction between his theory and his practice is
still unseemly. Skepticism can also lead one astray concerning belief in
God and immortality, and this has an effect upon one’s peace of mind
and disposition. One may indeed take some temporary comfort in an
incomplete and superficial philosophy; but as soon as one discovers the
inadequacies of such a philosophy, one then comes to doubt the very
possibility of philosophy itself, and this doubt transports one into a state
of even greater distress.
The practical goal now is to resolve these doubts and to bring man
into harmony with himself, so that he can trust his own consciousness
from conviction and on the basis of good reasons—just as he previously
trusted it from the instinct of reason. (The overall goal of human edu¬
cation and cultivation is to employ labor to make man what he previ¬
ously was without the need of any labor at all.) This [practical] goal has
been completely achieved by the Kantian philosophy. It is a proven phi¬
losophy, and everyone who understands it must admit that it is true. But
it is not our vocation to be satisfied with this. We are destined for com¬
plete and systematic cognizance. It is not sufficient that our doubts be
resolved and that we be consigned to tranquility; we also want science.
Human beings have a need for science, and the Wissenschaftslehre offers
to satisfy this need. The conclusions of the Wissenschaftslehre are there¬
fore the same as those of Kant’s philosophy, but the way in which these
12	“die Bestimmung der Menschheit ist es nicht, sie geht unaufhörlich fort auf gegrün¬
dete Erkenntniß.” The word Grund means “ground” or “basis” or “foundation” or “rea¬
son.” (The German name for the “principle of sufficient reason,” for example, is Satz des
Grundes.) A well-grounded cognition is thus one that has its basis or foundation in some
previous one, whereas the ultimate Grund of all knowledge cannot be derived from any¬
thing higher, but must be somehow self-evident. The task of the Jena Wissenschaftslehre is to
demonstrate, via a genetic deduction or “derivation,” the connection between ordinary
experience and its ultimate “ground.” Thus it is the aim of Fichte’s philosophy finally to
satisfy the perennial human quest for “well-grounded knowledge.” For a detailed discus¬
sion of the vital connections among “philosophy,” “science,” “system,” and “ground,” see
Fichte’s important “programmatic” work of 1794, Ueher den Begriff der Wissenschaftslehre
(SW, I: 27-81 = AA I, 2: 107-63; English translation in EPW, pp. 84-135).

82 First Introduction
results are established is quite different. Kant does not derive the laws of
human thinking in a rigorously scientific manner. But this is precisely
what the Wissenschaftslehre is supposed to do. It provides a derivation of
the laws that apply to any finite rational being whatsoever. Because it is
based merely upon experience, the Kantian system merely asserts the
laws of human reason, but the Wissenschaftslehre proves these laws. “I
prove something to someone” means that I lead him to the point where
he recognizes that he has already conceded the truth of some proposi¬
tion simply because he has previously conceded the truth of some other
proposition. Every proof thus presupposes that the person to whom one
wishes to prove something accepts something else as already proven, and
two people who can agree on nothing are unable to prove anything to
each other. Accordingly, since the Wissenschaftslehre wishes to provide a
proof of the laws in accordance with which a finite, rational being gen¬
erates its cognitions, it must base this demonstration upon something.
And since it wishes to provide a foundation for our knowledge,13 it must
begin with something that every person will concede. If there is no such
thing, then systematic philosophy is impossible.
The Wissenschaftslehre calls upon every person to reflect upon what he
does when he says “I.” According to the Wissenschaftslehre, what happens
when one says “I” is this: one supposes that one posits oneself, and that
one posits oneself as a subject-object. One cannot think “I” without do¬
ing this. The identity of the positing subject and the posited object14
completely exhausts the concept of I-hood,15 insofar as this concept is
postulated by the Wissenschaftslehre. We do not here import into this con¬
cept anything else that one might otherwise think of in conjunction with
self-positing. The Wissenschaftslehre can do nothing with a person who
will not concede this identity. This is the first thing that the Wissen¬
schaftslehre demands of everyone. In addition, it asks one to consult one’s
own consciousness once again; and it claims that if one does so, one will
discover the following: that one not only posits oneself, but also posits
something else in opposition to oneself—i.e., that one opposes some-
13	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “Wißen” for K’s “Wesen.” Thanks to information supplied
by Fuchs, I have been able in this English edition to correct some mistranscriptions that
appear in the Meiner edition of the German text.
f4 “die Identität des Setzenden und Gesetzten”: i.e., the identity of the actively positing
subject and what is posited by means of this act. This is the same identity that, in the 1794/
95 version of his system, Fichte tried (rather unsuccessfully) to convey by the term
Thathandlung.
The verb setzen (here translated throughout as “to posit”) is a basic term in Fichte’s philo¬
sophical vocabulary and is employed to designate the act of being aware or conscious of
anything whatsoever. The root meaning of setzen is “to place” or “to put,” and thus it des¬
ignates the reflective act in which the I “places” something before itself and thereby at¬
tends to it. Though this term does indeed call attention to the action involved in all
consciousness, it does not, taken by itself, imply that the conscious subject somehow “cre¬
ates” the object of which it is conscious.
15	“Ichheit.”

First Introduction
thing to oneself.16 What is thereby posited in opposition is called “Not-
I,” for the only thing said about it is that it is posited in opposition to the
I. One cannot yet call it “an object” or “the world,” because, before one
can do so, one must first show how it becomes an object and a world.
Otherwise, ours would be nothing more than yet another variety of Pop¬
ular Philosophy.17
Everything else is derived from these presuppositions. Reason lies
within the I, finitude in the Not-I. The Wissenschaftslehre maintains that
everything that follows from this is valid for all finite, rational beings.
The Wissenschaftslehre then proceeds to exhibit the conditions that
make it possible for the I to posit itself and to oppose a Not-I to itself, and
this is what proves its correctness.These conditions are the human mind’s
original ways of acting. Whatever is required in order for the I to be able
to posit itself and to oppose a Not-I to itself is necessary. The Wissen¬
schaftslehre demonstrates these conditions by means of a deduction.
A deductive proof proceeds as follows: We can assume that it is the
very nature of the human mind to posit itself and to oppose a Not-I to
itself; but if we assume this, we must also assume much else as well. This
is called “deducing,” i.e., deriving something from something else. Kant
merely asserts that one always proceeds in accordance with the cate¬
gories,18 whereas the Wissenschaftslehre asserts that one must proceed in
accordance with the categories—just as surely as one posits oneself as an
I. The conclusions are the same, but the Wissenschaftslehre connects them
to something higher as well.
(l)	Thus the Wissenschaftslehre seeks to discover within the inner work¬
ings of finite, rational being as such19 the foundation of all the thinking
that exists for us. This can be briefly expressed as follows: The essence of
reason consists in my positing myself; but I cannot do this without pos¬
iting a world in opposition to myself, and indeed, a quite specific world:
16	“daß man sich nicht nur selbst setze, sondern daß man sich auch noch etwas entge¬
gensetze.” The reader should keep in mind that when the verb “oppose” occurs in this
translation, it always means entgegensetzen, “to posit in opposition” (hence the term “coun-
terposit” coined by Peter Heath and John Lachs in their translation of The Science of Knowl¬
edge). By “opposition,” therefore, Fichte does not always (or even usually) mean formal,
logical opposition. Indeed, the meaning of “opposition” in this text is often closer to sim¬
ple “difference,” in the sense that, in order to posit or to recognize a difference between x
and y, we must oppose them to each other.
17	The so-called Popular Philosophers formed a distinct movement in late eighteenth-
century German intellectual life and were frequent objects of Fichte’s derision. “Popular
Philosophy” of this sort was characterized by a distrust of formal rigor, an inclination to
cultivate philosophy as a form of belles-lettres, and frequent appeal to the tribunal of
“healthy common sense.” For information concerning this long-forgotten (though, in an¬
other sense, perennial) philosophical movement, see chap. 13 of Lewis White Beck, Early
German Philosophy (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1969), and chap. 6 of
Beiser, The Fate of Reason.
18	See, e.g., Kant, KRV, A80/B106.
19	“in dem inneren Verfahren des endlichen Vernunftwesens überhaupt.”

First Introduction
a world in space, within which appearances follow one another sequen¬
tially in time. This all occurs in one single, undivided act. When this first
act occurs, all the others occur simultaneously. But philosophy, and es¬
pecially the Wissenschaftslehre, wishes to become minutely acquainted with
this single act. One never becomes acquainted with anything exactly and
in detail, however, except by disassembling and dissecting it, and this is
also how the Wissenschaftslehre deals with this single action of the I. We
thereby obtain a series of interconnected actions of the I; for we are un¬
able to grasp this single action all at once, since a philosopher is a being
who must do his thinking within time.
In this manner, the need for science is satisfied, and we then obtain a
cognition that is not merely discursive and pieced together from expe¬
rience, but systematic, in the sense that it all can be derived from a single
point to which everything else is connected. The human mind strives for
systematic cognition, and hence it should follow the promptings of this
striving. Anyone who says it is impossible to obtain this says no more
than that it is impossible for him personally to obtain it. The method
followed in the Wissenschaftslehre also has advantages in respect of clarity,
since what hangs together in such a way that everything can be easily
surveyed from a single point is always clearer than a diverse aggregate of
things, each of which must be perceived separately.
(2)	Kant did not answer the question, How is it that we come to ascribe
objective validity to certain representations? But the Wissenschaftslehre
succeeds in answering just this question. We attribute objective validity
to a representation whenever we affirm that, in addition to the represen¬
tation itself, there also exists some thing that corresponds to the represen¬
tation but is independent of it. What distinguishes the representation
from the thing is that I have produced the representation, but I have not
produced the thing. The Wissenschaftslehre asserts that, when we are
dealing with representations that are supposed to be present within us
necessarily, we are simply forced to assume that something external cor¬
responds to them; and it demonstrates this in a genetic manner.
There are two fundamental actions of the I: one is that act by means
of which it posits itself, along with all that is required in order to do so—
namely, the entire world. The other action is a reiterated positing of
what has already been posited by the first act. Thus there is an original
positing of the I and of the world, and, in addition to this, there is a pos¬
iting of what has already been posited. The first action makes conscious¬
ness possible in the first place, and thus it cannot itself occur within
consciousness. The second, however, is consciousness itself. Thus the
second action presupposes the first one; and accordingly, in the second
action something is found to be present without any assistance from the
I, which then reflects upon what it has found. The thing, which is the

First Introduction 85
result of the first act and which is thus actually a product of the I, makes
its appearance in this second act.20
Consequently, we must distinguish the original thesis, or rather syn¬
thesis (since a manifold is posited in this original thesis), from the anal¬
ysis of this synthesis, which occurs when one reflects upon what is
contained in the original synthesis. Experience in its entirety is thus
nothing but an analysis of this original synthesis. We can never actually
be conscious of the original act of positing, for it is itself just the condi¬
tion for the possibility of all consciousness.
Such, in brief, is the substance, the essence, and the distinctive char¬
acter of the Wissenschaftslehre.
Re. Ill: (1) The investigations that make up the Wissenschaftslehre will
here be conducted in a new manner, just as if they had never been con¬
ducted before. This revised version will profit from the fact that, since
the time of the original version, the first principles have been further
developed and extended, and this facilitates a clearer understanding of
those principles themselves.21 Moreover, from his conversations on the
subject with various people, your instructor has discovered the reason
why many still find his earlier statements to be unclear. All the same,
consideration will be given to the first presentation as well.
(2)	The first presentation was made somewhat awkward by the fact
that the discussion of the conditions for the possibility of the principles
did not present these conditions in their natural order, but was instead
divided into a “theoretical” part and a “practical” part. As a result of this
division, many directly related issues were separated too widely from
one another. This will no longer occur in the present version, [which will
follow] {a method of presentation that is just the opposite of that fol- (17)
lowed by the author in his compendium of 1794, where he proceeded
from the theoretical portion of philosophy (i.e., from what had to be ex¬
plained) to the practical part (i.e., to what was meant to serve as the basis
for explaining the former). In the present lectures, however, the hith¬
erto familiar division between theoretical and practical philosophy is not
to be found. Instead, these lectures present philosophy as a whole, in the
20	“Das erste dessen Resultat das Ding ist; dadurch zeigt sich, was eigentlich das Product
des Ich ist.” This sentence, which is incomplete or incoherent as it stands, is construed by
Radrizzani to read: “The first act [that is, the act of self-positing], the product of which is
the thing, reveals what is really the product of the I.”
21	This is presumably an allusion to Fichte’s two major works that intervened between
the original 1794/95 presentation of the first principles of his system (in GWL and GEWL)
and the present, revised version: the Grundlage des Naturrechts nach Principien der Wissen¬
schaftslehre (1795/96) and the System der Sittenlehre nach den Primipien der Wissenschaftslehre
(1798), in which (as the full titles of the two books declare) the principles of Fichte’s phi¬
losophy are “extended” into the fields of natural right (or natural law) and ethics.

86 First Introduction
exposition of which theoretical and practical philosophy are united.
This presentation follows a much more natural path, beginning with the
practical sphere, or, whenever it would contribute to the clarity of the
exposition to do so, inserting the practical into the theoretical, in order
to explain the latter in terms of the former: a liberty for which the au¬
thor was not yet sufficiently self-confident at the time that he published
his Wissenschaftslehre.}22
We will also discuss, in an explicit and thorough manner, the laws of
reflection, in combination and in connection with what proceeds from
these laws. (This promise could not be fulfilled because of a lack of
time.)23 “To reflect” means to direct the ideal activity of the mind at
something; this can occur only in accordance with certain laws, and this
determines the specific character of the object of reflection.
In the course of these lectures, your instructor will be following a cer¬
tain path of inquiry, and those who do not think along with him will ob¬
tain nothing at all from these lectures, which can be of use only to
persons able to think along with them. For those who do not make such
an effort to think along with him, the instructor might just as well de¬
liver his lectures in Arabic.
22	Though H contains nothing comparable to the “first introduction” to K, and begins
instead with what, in K, is the “second introduction,” this introduction is preceded in H by
the short paragraph here translated. The first page of H begins with the title, “WISSEN¬
SCHAFTSLEHRE, according to the lectures of Prof. Fichte,” which is immediately fol¬
lowed by the paragraph translated above, the first words of which are “N.B. And
moreover, according to a [. . . . ]”
Page references to the text of H (as published in AA IV, 2) are henceforth supplied,
within parentheses, in the right margin of the translation.
23	There is some controversy concerning the author of this parenthetic remark. See
“Dating the Krause Transcript” in the Editor’s Introduction.

Second Introduction
1 1
(1)	These lectures will be concerned with the first and deepest foun¬
dations of philosophy. {Wissenschaftslehre and philosophy are one and (17)
the same.}
Philosophy is not a collection of propositions that can be studied and
memorized as such; instead, it is a certain way of looking at things,
{a way of viewing things in accordance with certain principles,1} a par¬
ticular way of thinking, which one must generate within oneself. Anyone
who is not yet able to state correctly what philosophy is concerned with
still lacks a correct concept of philosophy.
As Kant said, it is an advantage for a science when its task can be ex¬
pressed in a single formula. Kant himself reduced the task of philosophy
to answering the question, “How are synthetic judgments a priori pos¬
sible?” {(Synthesis occurs when we go beyond our representations and (18)
connect something to them: what has to be shown is that one is impos¬
sible without the other.)} Your instructor phrases the same question as
follows: “How do we come to assume that something external to us
corresponds to the representations within us?” These two questions are
the same.
I know that I am conscious of a representation of something. In ad¬
dition to this, I also maintain that there exists a thing corresponding to
this representation, a thing that would exist even if I did not entertain a
representation of it. Yet the connection between the representation and
the thing is itself, in turn, nothing more than a representation, i.e.,
something within me. Nevertheless, we do not merely assert that we en¬
tertain representations; we also maintain that things outside of these
representations correspond to these representations themselves. Ac¬
cordingly, the representation of the connection between representations
and things would be a necessary representation. In this case, therefore,
12 a connection has already been made; and even though we are not yet
aware of the act of connecting, such an act is necessary nevertheless.
1 “Geschichtspunkt nach gewissen Principien.”
[87]

88 Second Introduction
This process, by means of which I go beyond the mere representation to
the representation that there actually are existing things, is something
that occurs necessarily. All rational beings proceed in this way.
Necessary representations are therefore present within a thinking be¬
ing. Philosophy inquires concerning the basis or reason for these neces¬
sary representations within the intellect.2,A
(2)	Not philosophy itself, but the philosophical task, the tendency toward
philosophy, has its origin in the fact2 3 that we are conscious, {which can¬
not be and does not need to be proven}.® Among those determinations
and states of our consciousness, which we designate under the general
name “representations,” there are some that are accompanied by a feel¬
ing of necessity, while others depend purely upon our own free choice.4
{This is equally undeniable.}
(1)	No one doubts this fact. There can be no question whatsoever
about it, and anyone who still demands a proof of it does not know what
he is asking. (Example: Tiedemann,5 who, in his Theaetetus, wishes to
prove that he entertains representations.)
(2)	Pay careful attention to how this fact is stated: It is asserted that
there are representations accompanied by a feeling of necessity, that {we
are compelled to assume that} there are things that correspond to these
representations. It is not claimed that things {are or that they} exist. We
can be conscious only of the objects of our consciousness.
(3)	Something else is now attached to this indubitably certain fact,
namely, the Idea of a ground or foundation.6 The philosopher asks the
following question: What is the foundation of those representations of
mine that are accompanied by a feeling of necessity? That there is some
foundation is taken for granted. The question is simply, What is this
foundation?
2	“fragt nun nach dem Grunde dieser nothwendigen Vorstellungen in der Intelligenz.”
A The task of philosophy as a whole may be expressed in the following question: What is
the basis of what occurs in consciousness accompanied by a feeling of necessity? (Or, what is the basis
of the necessary representations within the intellect?) (p. 18). [Lettered footnotes supply
supplementary passages from H. Unlike the passages enclosed within scroll brackets in the
text itself, which generally go beyond or clarify the text of K, these supplementary pas¬
sages represent alternative—and sometimes conflicting—formulations of points and argu¬
ments elaborated in K.]
3	“Facto.”
B Philosophy begins with the fact that we are conscious of ourselves, which cannot be and
does not need to be proven (p. 18).
4	“Willkiihr.”
5	Dietrich Tiedemann (1748-1803) was a professor of philosophy at Marburg and au¬
thor of a work entitled Theatet, oder uber des menschliche Wissen, ein Beytrag zur Vernunft-
Kritik, which appeared in 1794, the same year as the first part of Fichte’s Grundlage der
gesamten Wissenschaftslehre. Tiedemann’s work remained a favorite target of Fichte’s scorn
throughout his Jena period, though, as Radrizzani has pointed out, Fichte’s criticism of
Tiedemann in this passage appears to be based upon a distorted reading.
6	“die Idee eines Grundes.”

Second Introduction
{For example, a blow from behind (fact) forces me to look around for (19)
the cause (necessary representation) (since it is possible that I might not
have received this blow or that I might have received a weaker or a stron¬
ger one). What, however, is the reason that I act in this manner? Why am
I forced to infer that there is something lying beyond and corresponding
to these necessary representations of mine? Why does what is contingent
appear within my consciousness in just the way that it does and not in
some other way? This indicates and is the foundation.}
A synthesis is already contained in the very task that all philosophy
assumes, for philosophy proceeds from a fact to its foundation. {Now,
however, one can raise a second question:} But how do I ever arrive at
the point of proceeding from a fact to its foundation? {Or, how is phi¬
losophy possible?} This is an important question, for philosophical in¬
quiry consists precisely in posing and in answering just such questions;
and, since this question lies at the foundation of philosophy itself, in or¬
der to answer it one has to philosophize about philosophy. The question
concerning the possibility of philosophy is thus itself a philosophical
question. Philosophy provides an answer to the question concerning its
own possibility. Accordingly, one can demonstrate the possibility of phi¬
losophy only by arguing in a circular fashion, or, philosophy requires no
proof and is simply and absolutely possible.
We must now ask how one arrives at the previous question. What is
one doing when one raises7 this question [concerning the foundation
of representations accompanied by a feeling of necessity]? The ques¬
tion concerning the foundation8 is itself one of our necessary repre¬
sentations.0
One seeks a foundation only for contingent things. Philosophy as
such, however, seeks the foundation of necessary representations; there¬
fore, it must consider such representations to be contingent. It would be
absurd to inquire concerning the foundation of something one did not
consider to be contingent. “I consider something to be contingent”
means that I am able to think that it might not have existed at all or that
it might have been altogether different than it is. Our representations of
the universe are contingent in this sense; we think that the earth might
very well have been different than it is, and we can imagine ourselves on
7	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “aufwirf ” for K’s “streift.”
8	“Die Frage nach dem Grunde.” This might be better translated as “the demand for a
reason.” Throughout this entire section, Fichte capitalizes on the multiple senses of the
word Grund (both “foundation” and “reason”). Thus, in a previous passage discussing the
presence within us of representations accompanied by a feeling of necessity, when he asks
“welches ist dieser Grund?” his question might just as easily (and more naturally) be ren¬
dered, “Why do we have such representations?” Once again, it might be helpful to recall
that the German name for “the principle of sufficient reason” is Satz des Grundes.
c But this very question already belongs to the domain of what appears [within con¬
sciousness] accompanied by a feeling of necessity (p. 19).

go Second Introduction
another planet.0 Whether we might still be able to exist without such
representations is a question to be answered by philosophy; in any case,
it is certain that we consider the universe to be something contingent,
for otherwise we could not ask about its foundation, that is, why it is as
it is.9
Experience in its entirety is such a fact. To proceed beyond the facts,
i.e., to go beyond experience as a whole {and to connect something
thereto, something that by no means lies within the domain of facts or of
experience—that is, to specify the ground of experience}: this is philos¬
ophy and nothing else, {or it is metaphysics, which is the same thing as
philosophy).
A ground or foundation does not lie within what it establishes. Thus
the ground of experience lies outside of experience, and philosophy,
which establishes the ground of experience, raises itself above experi¬
ence. Physics encompasses all experience. Philosophy, which goes be¬
yond experience, is therefore metaphysics. Philosophy adduces not a
single fact or experience. This assertion has recently been contested by
those who talk about basing philosophy upon facts. Philosophy, along
with everything that occurs therein, is a product of the pure capacity for
thought. Philosophy itself is not a fact; instead, its task is to provide a
foundation for the fact of experienced {Philosophy is a product of the
power of free thought, or is the science of experience, which everyone
has to produce within himself.}
It is doubly unfortunate that some of these philosophers who appeal
to facts style themselves “Kantians,”10 for Kant said, “I ask about the
possibility of experience.”11 To be sure, before I can ask about the pos¬
sibility of something, I have to be acquainted with it; but the basis for the
possibility of the thing in question lies beyond the thing itself. That phi¬
losophy should raise itself above the level of experience is, therefore,
something that has already been explicitly asserted by Kant himself.
To ask how we are able to raise ourselves beyond experience to the
level of philosophy is to call into question the very legitimacy of philo-
D Our representations of the world and of the things around us are, of course, contin¬
gent, and yet they are nevertheless necessary. This apparent contradiction can be ex¬
plained as follows: An individual representation, e.g., my representation of the table
standing before me, is accompanied by a feeling of necessity; but it is a contingent fact that
precisely this representation should be generated within my consciousness. Something
other than precisely this table might have stood in this place (p. 19).
9	“denn nur darum können wir nach dem Grunde deßelben fragen.”
E Facts and experience have no place, as such, within philosophy, for what is to be pro¬
vided with a foundation is not itself the foundation (p. 19).
10	E.g., Fichte’s colleague at Jena and bitter philosophical opponent, Christian Erhard
Schmid (1761-1812). For Schmid’s system and Fichte’s devastating critique thereof, see
Fichte’s 1796 polemic, Vergleichung des vom Herrn Prof. Schmid aufgestellten Systems mit dem
der Wissenschaftslehre (SW, II: 420-58 = AA I, 3: 235—66; translated in EPW, p. 316—35).
11	See, e.g., KRV, A158/B197.

Second Introduction Ql
sophical inquiry; i.e., it is to call into question the entire process12 of rea¬
son which makes us search for a foundation for everything contingent.
Philosophy itself is supposed to provide an answer to this question, and
to this extent philosophy is self-grounding.
{Corollary to this section: What is present within consciousness and ac¬
companied by a feeling of necessity is experience in its entirety. Insofar
as we inquire about the foundation thereof, we assume the existence of
something lying beyond all experience, something that is only produced
by pure thought for the purpose of providing a necessary foundation
for experience. The legitimacy and necessity of seeking such a founda¬
tion has its original roots within reason itself, and this is first deduced
within philosophy.}
Thus the first and highest condition for all philosophical inquiry is to
bear in mind that one will encounter absolutely nothing at all within
philosophy unless one produces from within oneself everything about
which one reasons. Philosophical ideas cannot be given to anyone; they
have to be generated within one’s own mind.
(3)	{The question just raised can be answered in two diametrically op¬
posed ways:
(A)	One can treat the representations accompanied by a feeling of ne¬
cessity as products of presupposed things in themselves: dogmatism.
(B)	One can treat them as products of a presupposed representing
subject: idealism.)
The dogmatist assumes that there are things that exist in themselves;
he postulates their existence, for they are not contained within the fact
of my consciousness. No dogmatist claims to be immediately conscious of
things in themselves, {which are not supposed to be facts of conscious¬
ness}. The dogmatist merely claims that one cannot explain the facts of
consciousness without presupposing the existence of things in them¬
selves. Neither dogmatists of the old-fashioned variety, nor those Critical
dogmatists who consider the material of representations to be some¬
thing given,13 seem to appreciate this fact about their own position; for
they inveigh loudly against any attempt to go beyond consciousness,
even though this is just what they themselves are doing.
The idealist accounts for representation on the basis of a representing
subject, whose existence he presupposes. This representing subject is
not an immediate object of consciousness either, {for the representations
of which we become conscious are mere determinations or states of con¬
sciousness (that is, of the representing subject) and are not the repre¬
senting subject itself}. Ordinary consciousness is always preoccupied
12	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “Verfahren” for K’s “Verstehen.”
13	“die sich noch Stoff geben laßen.” “Critical dogmatism” is Fichte’s name for the kind
of “Kantianism” that explains representations as products of things in themselves.

92 Second Introduction
with representations of things outside of us. If a representation of the
representing subject is to arise, this must first be produced by an act of
self-reflection. I am conscious of nothing but consciousness and its de¬
terminations, and these too are representations. All that can appear
within consciousness is a representation of the representing subject, not
the representing subject itself.
■ Consequently, both idealism and dogmatism go beyond conscious¬
ness. The dogmatist begins with a lack of freedom and ends with the same
thing. For him, representations are products of things, and the intellect
or subject is something merely passive/ Freedom of acting is sacrificed
as well, and a dogmatist who affirms free will is either inconsistent or
else a hypocrite. {(The instructor does not know whether any dogmatist—
even Spinoza—was ever consistent.)} For my own free acting is some¬
thing I am conscious of by means of representations; but if representa¬
tions are impressions produced within us by things, then it follows that
my representation of myself as acting freely is likewise dependent upon
some thing.
{Dogmatism is equally irrefutable from the side of speculation (objec¬
tively) and from the side of innermost feelings (subjectively). It rejects
out of hand all the idealist’s principles and postulates.}
One cannot get at the dogmatist by speculative means, for he rejects
out of hand all the principles by means of which one might be able to
refute him. One has to refute him on the basis of those principles with
which he himself begins.
The idealist begins with the consciousness of freedom, which the dog¬
matist interprets as a delusion. The only objections one can raise against
the dogmatist, and in respect of which the idealist has an edge on him,
are these: The dogmatist does not explain everything he is supposed to
explain. Moreover, one can also say that he is indeterminate;14 for he
cannot deny that we are conscious of freedom, and therefore he has to
explain this as an effect of things—which is impossible. Finally, he is un¬
able to offer a clear account of how representations could be produced
within any sort of creature by the influence of things. He is unable to pro¬
vide a genetic account of the intellect, whereas the idealist can do just this.
{Hence dogmatism is a very arbitrary and problematic way of thinking.0
Dogmatism is equally irrefutable from the side of innermost feeling
(subjectively); for there is no arguing with anyone who, as a person, has
F Since, according to this system, our soul operates in a purely passive manner, there is no
place for freedom within the dogmatic system, so long, that is, as the dogmatist wishes to be
consistent (p. 20).
14	“unbestimmt.”
G Dogmatism is also indeterminate It cannot explain what is supposed to be explained:
What is an intellect? It presupposes something that does not appear within consciousness
at all, namely, a thing in itself. Moreover, it cannot explain how a representation can be
understood as an “effect” of something (p. 21).

Second Introduction 93
not yet been cultivated to the point where he has come to feel that our
representations are products of our I or who denies this feeling.}
Thus the place to begin a confrontation with dogmatism is not from
the side of speculation, but rather from that of innermost feeling. Dog¬
matism is intolerable to a noble and superior soul, for whom the most
lofty and important thought is the thought of self-sufficiency and free¬
dom. {This is the aspect of dogmatism which respectable persons find
most shocking: that it denies the feeling of freedom or spontaneous self¬
activity.}
Our consciousness includes the feeling of freedom as well as the feel¬
ing of constraint. The former is the consequence of our infinitude; the
latter is the consequence of our finitude. The former leads us back into
ourselves, whereas the latter directs us toward the world. A person who
confounds these two feelings is inconsistent.
The human species, as well as the individual, begins with the feeling
of constraint. We all begin with experience, but then we are driven back
into ourselves, where we discover our own freedom. Everything depends
upon which feeling is predominant in a particular person, upon which
he will refuse to allow to be taken from him {— the feeling of depen¬
dency and constraint (as in the case of dogmatism) or the feeling of free¬
dom and self-sufficiency (as in the case of idealism)}.H The conflict
between dogmatism and idealism is, in fact, not a proper philosophical
conflict at all, for the two systems share no common ground whatsoever.
If they remain consistent, each denies the principles of the other, and a
philosophical conflict can arise only when both parties agree upon the
same principles, while disagreeing merely about what these principles
imply. Instead, we have here a struggle between two different ways of
thinking. The consistent dogmatist provides himself with his own anti¬
dote, for he cannot endure this way of thinking for very long. {The best
way to cure a dogmatist and to win him over is to let him remain con¬
sistent with himself; for his system must eventually lead him to fatalism,
and thereby he will finally be won over to idealism and will transfer his
allegiance to the side of the latter.}
(4)	{According to the preceding section, the system of idealism begins by
presupposing the activity of the representing subject; whereas dogma¬
tism considers the behavior of this same subject to be passive. Idealism
begins with the representing subject; dogmatism begins with the thing.
Granted, the idealist does not discover the feeling of the freedom and
self-activity of his I to be immediately present within his consciousness;
H Depending, therefore, upon which of these feelings is dominant in a particular per¬
son—the feeling of dependency and constraint (as in the case of dogmatism) or the feeling
of freedom and self-sufficiency (as in the case of idealism)—one will be attracted to one of
these two systems and will silence the other, opposed feeling (p. 21).

94 Second Introduction
nevertheless, he knows how to locate this feeling within himself and how (22)
to produce it through a free act of self-positing. The dogmatist, on the
other hand, explains this same feeling as illusory and thereby denies the
reality of freedom itself.}
The dogmatist’s presupposition [the thing in itself] is nothing but a
mere thought. Moreover, his presupposition cannot be justified, for it
does not even explain what it is supposed to explain. As soon as there
appears another system that does explain everything, then there can no
longer be any place for the dogmatist’s presupposition.
The idealist says: Think about yourself, and pay attention to how you
accomplish this. You will thereby discover a self-reverting activity.15 {I.e.,
you will discover that you determine yourself through your own activity.
The idealist starts with this determination of self-activity.} The idealist
thus adopts as his foundation something that actually occurs within con¬
sciousness, whereas the dogmatist’s foundation is something { = the
thing in itself} that one can merely think of as lying outside of all con¬
sciousness.
To this one could object as follows: Everything the idealist demands
from me is nothing but a representation of my self-re verting activity; it
is therefore not a self-reverting activity “in itself,” which occurs apart
from my representation of it. {This objection is raised by Aenesidemus.16}
Response: We are not talking about anything more than the occurrence of
this representation!1 It would be futile to try to introduce a distinction
between a self-reverting activity and a representation of the same. For
an activity of representation apart from representing would be a
contradiction.17 Every active substance should be treated as substance;
philosophy has to show where this substrate comes from and where it
occurs. Here we are dealing with nothing but an immediate positing of
the I, and this is a representation.
15	“eine in dich zurückgehende Thätigkeit.”
16	A reference to G. E. Schulze (1761-1833), professor of philosophy at Helmstädt, who
raised this objection against Kant and Reinhold in 1792 in his anonymously published
work entitled Aenesidemus oder über die Fundamente der von dem Herrn Professor Reinhold in
Jena gelieferten Elementar-Philosophie. Nebst einer Vertheidigung des Skepticismus gegen die An¬
maasungen der Vernunftkritik. Fichte responded to Schulze’s criticism in his own “Review of
Aenesidemus” (1793) (in SW, I: 3-25 = AA I, 2: 41—67; English translation in EPW, pp. 59-
77. An excerpt from Schulze’s Aenesidemus is translated by di Giovanni in Between Kant and
Hegel, pp. 104-35). For further information concerning Schulze/Aenesidemus, see chap. 9
of Beiser’s The Fate of Reason.
1 Response: We are not and could not be speaking of any such self-reverting activity in
itself and apart from all representation. All representation ceases at this point. What, for
example, could “writing” mean if I were to abstract from everything that is required in
order to write? (p. 22).
17	“Denn eine Thätigkeit des Vorstellens auser dem Vorstellen wäre ein Widerspruch.”
The text of K appears to be corrupt at this point. A possible emendation, suggested by the
parallel passage in H, is to substitute “des Vorstellendes” for “des Vorstellens,” in which
case the sentence would read: “An activity of the representing subject other than an act of
representing would be a contradiction.”

Second Introduction 05
The idealist’s principle is present within consciousness, and thus his
philosophy can be called “immanent.” But he also finds that his princi¬
ple does not occur within consciousness on its own; instead, it occurs as
a result of his own free acting. In the course of ordinary consciousness,
one encounters no concept of the I, no self-reverting activity. Neverthe¬
less, one is able to think of one’s I when a philosopher calls upon one to
do so; and then one discovers this concept by means of free activity, and
not as something given.J
Every philosophy presupposes something, something that it does not
demonstrate and on the basis of which it explains and demonstrates ev¬
erything else. This is also true-of idealism. Idealism presupposes the pre¬
viously mentioned free activity as its first principle, on the basis of which
it must then explain everything else; but this principle itself cannot be
explained any further. {To be sure, each of these two systems postulates
something. But the idealist does not presuppose anything outside of his
own consciousness; he merely postulates that this free activity of his I is
that principle that cannot be derived from anything else. The first, im¬
mediate principle with which he begins is his consciousness of freedom.}
Dogmatism is transcendent; it soars beyond consciousness. Idealism is
transcendental; for though it remains within consciousness, it shows how
it is possible to go beyond consciousness. That is to say, it shows how we
come to assume that there are things outside of ourselves which corre¬
spond to our representations. Whether one embraces or rejects such a
philosophy is something that depends upon one’s inmost way of think¬
ing and upon one’s faith in oneself. A person who has faith in himself
cannot accept any variety of dogmatism or fatalism. This is what Kant
often refers to as “the interest of reason.” He speaks of an interest of
speculative reason and of an interest of practical reason and opposes
these two to each other.18 From the perspective of Kant’s philosophy this
is correct, but it is not correct in itself; for reason is always one and has
only one interest. The interest of reason lies in confidence in one’s own
self-sufficiency and freedom, and reason’s interest in unity and coher¬
ence is a consequence of this prior interest. One could call the latter “the
interest of speculative reason,” because it demands that the whole be
constructed upon a single foundation and be connected therewith.K
Idealism is more compatible with this interest than is dogmatism.
J His [the idealist’s] principle is not something given, but is discovered through a free
exercise of activity, in the free action of self-positing (p. 22).
18	See, for example, KRV, A462/B49off. and A8o4/B832ff.
K The idealist’s system thus rests upon his faith in himself or in his own self-sufficiency,
or upon what Kant called “the interest of reason.” That is to say: for which of these two
systems will reason decide when they are weighed against each other? For our reason—
theoretical as well as practical—has but a single interest, and this is unity. Thus, when Kant
speaks of “two interests,” these are merely different modifications of one and the same
interest (p. 23).

Second Introduction
(5)	{The idealist indicates within consciousness that activity of the rep¬
resenting subject which he will use to explain representations. But it
goes without saying that he accomplishes this not by referring to a rep¬
resentation that is necessary and therefore discovered within conscious¬
ness, but rather by means of a representation that has to be freely and
actively generated within consciousness. (It would be contradictory for
this free act of self-representation and self-positing to be somehow
given.) Against the dogmatist, who treats this same activity as derived
from something else (and thus, not as an activity at all), the idealist can¬
not prove that this activity of the representing subject should be treated
as the ultimate foundation of consciousness, nor can he prove that this
activity cannot be derived from something higher and that it must in¬
stead be treated as the highest principle from which everything else
must be derived. On the contrary, the necessity of making this assump¬
tion is based upon nothing beyond the idealist’s own manner of
thinking.}
If one is ever willing to concede the truth of idealism’s claim and to
accept this assertion as one’s principle {(i.e., as something that is certain
in itself, and not merely as something that is true),} then everything that
occurs within consciousness can be strictly derived therefrom. But whether
one will, in fact, concede this principle is something that depends upon
one’s own manner of thinking.
[This demonstration of the idealist’s system or derivation of the con¬
tents of consciousness proceeds as follows:] {The representing subject
(or I) is a consciousness of many different representations, including
representations accompanied by a feeling of necessity (this is the fact in
question). But whatever the representing subject may be, it is so only by
means of its own self-activity (this follows from the principle); hence it
likewise follows that it is also only by means of self-activity that it (the
representing subject) is a consciousness of representations accompanied
by a feeling of necessity; that is to say, all representations, and specifi¬
cally, those representations that are accompanied by a feeling of neces¬
sity, are products of this representing subject.
Insofar as the propositio major (that the representing subject is a con¬
sciousness of manifold representations) is concerned, it is simply a mat¬
ter of differing linguistic usage whether one says “is a consciousness” or
“possesses consciousness.” The latter, however, is a consequence of dog¬
matism; for “our I” or “the representing subject” or “consciousness” are
all one and the same. Our I is nothing other than consciousness itself.
The most important thing is not to misunderstand the propositio minor:
“the representing subject is whatever it is only by means of self-activity.” This
proposition should not be taken to suggest any creation of representa¬
tions, or the presence of some sort of substrate; it asserts merely that the
I posits itself, i.e., that a self-reverting activity is the essence of the I.

Second Introduction 9*7
This activity produces the concept of the I. The I is all that it is only
because it posits itself.}
One says, “I possess consciousness”—as if consciousness were an acci¬
dental property of the I. This distinction between consciousness and the
I is introduced rather late, and philosophy must explain the basis for
making such a distinction. It is true that I must ascribe to myself other
determinations or predicates in addition to consciousness, but still, it is
only by means of representations that we become conscious of any ac¬
tions. Therefore, nothing can exist for us except insofar as we possess a
consciousness of it.19 One can see at first glance that it is correct to say,
“My consciousness is I, and Lam my consciousness.” To be sure, con¬
sciousness includes representations accompanied by a feeling of neces¬
sity; or rather, the representing subject is conscious of what is present
accompanied by a feeling of necessity. But whatever the representing
subject might be, it is such only by means of its own spontaneous self¬
activity,20 and thus, even those representations that are accompanied by
a feeling of necessity are products of self-activity.
It is not correct to think that the I becomes conscious by means of
something else. The I is nothing but its own activity. The representing
subject is identical with its own self-activity, which constitutes its very es¬
sence; and thus, in every specific situation, its essence consists in a cer¬
tain, specific self-activity. The I posits itself: this means that it is a self-
reverting activity. A person who cannot abstract from all objects is
incapable of ever becoming a philosopher who can penetrate to the
foundation of things. Later on we shall see that one must also add [to the
I] the thought of a substrate; but until then, we must abstract from this.
Since everything the representing subject is supposed to be has to owe
its existence solely to self-activity, it follows that those representations
that are accompanied by a feeling of necessity are also produced by the
representing subject.
(6)	The foregoing demonstration would be quite sufficient to justify a
categorical assertion that those representations that are accompanied by
a feeling of necessity are products of the activity of the I, but it does not
provide us with a detailed understanding of how this occurs. A sufficient
19	“aber alle Handlungen gehen doch durch die Vorstellung hindurch. Alles was fur uns
sein soil, ist doch nur ein Bewustsein.” More literally: “but still, all actions pass through
representation. Everything that is supposed to exist for us, therefore, is only a conscious¬
ness.”
20	“nun aber ist das Vorstellende . . . durch Selbstthatigkeit.” Though normally trans¬
lated simply as “spontaneity” or “spontaneous activity,” Selbstthatigkeit is here usually ren¬
dered, more literally, as “self-activity” (or “spontaneous self-activity”) in order to emphasize
its quite special significance within the context of the Wissenschaftslehre. Note that Fichte’s
claim in this passage is not that the I “makes the world,” but rather that all consciousness
involves and springs from an element of free spontaneity.

Second Introduction
explanation of this would have to display in its entirety that previously
postulated act by means of which representations are produced. If ide¬
alism is to be a science, then it must be able to accomplish just this task
{of explaining how the act of representation occurs}. Let us here con¬
sider, in a preliminary manner, how idealism might be able to accom¬
plish this task successfully.
Philosophy is concerned, above all, with those representations that are
accompanied by a feeling of necessity. Unlike dogmatism, which explains
such representations in terms of passivity, idealism explains them with
reference to the acting of a free being. And this must be a necessary
mode of acting, for otherwise it would be of no use for explaining the
representations that need to be explained.
At first, one doubts whether such representations could be products
of a self-activity, because one is not conscious of any such activity. When
most people hear the words “activity” or “acting,” they think of an in¬
stance of free acting. But there can also be a necessary mode of acting.
But should necessary acting still be considered “acting” at all? Would it
not be better to call it a state of passivity?
(The true dogmatist, who must also be a fatalist, is unable to deny our
consciousness of freedom, but he explains this as a delusion. For him,
acting occurs only in consequence of some external influence. See Alex¬
ander von Joch’s—i.e., Hommel’s—discussion of the Turkish laws con¬
cerning reward and punishment.)21
The necessity of the necessary mode of acting is conditional on the
occurrence of an instance of free acting. It is not necessary as such, for
then it would be indistinguishable from a state of passivity.
The first, absolutely free and unconditioned instance of acting
{considered within idealism} is the self-positing of the I.22 Another type
of acting might then follow as a necessary consequence of this first act¬
ing; and if so, one could then say that this second type of acting is “nec¬
essary”—not absolutely necessary, to be sure, for its necessity would
be conditioned.L
21	Karl Ferdinand Hommel (1722-81) was a jurist and professor of law at Leipzig. In
1770, under the pseudonym Alexander von Joch, Hommel published a book entitled
Alexander von Joch beyder Rechte Doctor über Belohnung und Strafe nach Türkischen Gesezen, in
which he not only defended metaphysical determinism, but also denied that he had any
personal feeling of his own freedom. In 1793 Fichte included a criticism of Hommel’s “fa¬
talism” in the second edition of his own Versuch einer Kritik aller Offenbarung (SW, V:
45 = AA I, 1: 139; English translation by Garrett Green, Attempt at a Critique of All Reve¬
lation [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978], p. 45).
22	“das Sezen des Ich durch sich selbst.”
L As a science, idealism has the additional task of explaining how the act of representa¬
tion occurs. Philosophy as a whole is concerned with necessary representations, which are
to be explained on the basis of a type of acting—which must, therefore, be viewed as nec¬
essary. To be sure, idealism does not consider the necessary acting of the representing sub¬
ject to be unconditionally necessary. Its necessity is only conditional; insofar as the first act

Second Introduction
Freedom and necessity are already present in the first type of acting,
that is, in the act of self-positing. It is possible for one to reflect upon
objects rather than upon oneself. I am free to do either, but when I do
reflect upon myself, I can do so only by means of a self-re verting activity.
{When I posit myself \ which is possible only by means of an activity that re¬
verts back upon myself, there arises, purely from this, the concept of the I
and no other concept. Hence this concept is necessary, even though it is
also free, because the act through which it arose, which preceded it and
was therefore first, is a free act. (In contrast, many concepts arise
through an outwardly directed activity: e.g., the concept of the world, of
heaven, of the earth, of the wall, of the stove, etc.)} This much is already
contained in the principle; and thus it might well happen that we will
encounter an entire series of necessary actions, all of which are condi¬
tioned by the positing of the I. If so, then the proposition, “the I is what
it is through and by means of itself,” which heretofore has been treated
as a merely formal condition, would obtain objective validity as well.
{Through this proof that all representations are products of the rep¬
resenting subject23 idealism has not yet done enough to satisfy the well-
founded demands made upon it by science, namely, the demand that it
show how, through the acting of the representing subject, precisely these
determinate representations appear within consciousness. If it presents
itself as a science, then it must show how this can be explained from the (25)
principle it presupposes. It can do this only by means of the following
inference: The representing subject can posit its own self-activity only in
a certain manner, which is demonstrated within consciousness (namely,
only through a self-reverting activity). The other (necesssary) represen¬
tations follow from this.
All the necessary actions may be deduced in this way, and the manner
in which the representing subject acts is thereby subjected to laws. Ide¬
alism thereby becomes Critical or sound idealism,24 in contrast with that
completely groundless variety of idealism which begins with free and
lawless acting.
Accordingly, this section [ = (6)] would contain within itself the entire
system of idealism; and once one has conceded the idealist’s principle or
major premise, then all that has to be proved is the minor one: that the
I cannot posit itself without also engaging in other actions as well.
of the representing subject is an instance of free acting, then the entire series of its actions
or representations is also free—even if it is at the same time conditioned. These acts and
representations must indeed occur in the sequence in which they do occur, because they
proceed from the first act. But they are nevertheless free acts, because the first act is free
(p. 24).
23	“Durch diesen Beweis, daß überhaupt es so sey.” The translation supplies the missing
description of the general conclusion that is already supposed to have been established.
24	“ein kritischer oder reeller Idealismus.“

lOO Second Introduction
This proof is based upon on one’s own intuition of oneself: Observe all
the conditions of your self-reverting activity, and you will discover that
many other activities are necessary in addition to the first one—namely,
a second, a third, etc.}
The I is what it is, because it posits itself through itself. This act of
self-positing is possible only in a certain way; and thus this act of self-
positing presupposes another [act of positing], which, in turn, presup¬
poses another, etc.
In order to talk about anything mental or spiritual one has to make
use of sensible expressions, which gives rise to many misunderstandings,
for the signs employed are often arbitrary. Therefore, when one em¬
ploys a sign, one must first provide an explanation of it. But when one
has to explain something for which the words are lacking, one then has
to explain the thing itself, i.e., one must explain it genetically. I posit my¬
self, and, in doing this, I pay attention to the fact that I posit myself in
a particular manner and that I can posit myself only in this way. Per¬
haps, however, there are also many other things I can accomplish only in
this particular way, in which case we can speak of a “law”; and this is the
sense in which one speaks of “laws of intuition,” “laws of thinking,” etc.
Such necessary ways of thinking are the same as laws of thinking. In fact,
laws really apply only to an active being, whom we normally consider to
be free; and just as we say [to the latter] “you must behave in such and
such a manner,” so, in an analogous way, we say that a rational being
must behave in this way or that, and these constitute the laws of reason.
{“This is the manner in which our reason necessarily operates”; in
other words, “these are the laws of thinkingand, if this is true, then the
results of these laws must agree with experience. For example, the re¬
sults of these laws of thinking must be that objects are in space, appear¬
ances are in time, etc.}
The broader task of idealism may thus be described as follows: We
have already seen that the positing subject and what is posited are one
and the same. I can posit the I only in a certain way; but I cannot do this
without also positing a second thing, which, in turn, I cannot posit with¬
out also positing a third thing, etc. In this manner we might be able to
derive from the first act all those laws that explain how there comes to be
a world for us. This is what idealism has to demonstrate.
(7)	Most idealists before Kant claimed that representations lie within us
because we produce them within ourselves. As they understood the mat¬
ter, representations were something they could either produce or not pro¬
duce. This sort of idealism is groundless.
One can imagine two different paths along which one’s reasoning
might proceed. One path starts with the familiar structure of the world,
i.e., with those necessary representations that occur within conscious-

Second Introduction ÎOI
ness. This way of proceeding amounts to no more than feeling one’s way
by trial and error. This is not a satisfactory method, since the results are
always undecided and merely pending, even in one’s own eyes.
The other path starts with a description of the way in which a repre¬
senting being acts, and then proceeds to show how certain representa¬
tions come into being in accordance with the laws that govern the acting
of such a being. In this case, all one is observing is the manner in which
something comes into being. When one proceeds in this manner, one ab¬
stracts from everything actual. If one has the correct first principle and
if one has inferred correctly from this principle, then the results of one’s
deductions must agree with ordinary experience. If they do not, this
failure does not directly imply the incorrectness of the entire enterprise,
but indicates only the presence of a faulty inference somewhere
therein—which one must then try to discover. What has to be shown is
that the I could not posit itself without also positing much more as well.
Like the first law, which established that I can posit myself only in that
specific manner, these additional conditions must be established exclu¬
sively within self-intuition. This is the path our system will follow.
Remark: The system can only call upon everyone to look within him¬
self while observing how this is accomplished. Nevertheless, it lays claim
to universal validity and asserts that every rational being must behave in
the manner it describes. This claim is justified; for if one supposes that
the essence of reason really does consist in self-positing, then all of those
actions whose necessity is established by showing that they follow from
this act of self-positing can equally be said to follow from the nature of
reason itself, and therefore, every rational being must acknowledge the
correctness of the system.M
Moreover, in order to understand this system, one has to reproduce
within oneself all the actions examined here. For the system does not
enumerate a series of facts, which are simply given as such; instead, it
presents a series of actions, while at the same time observing that upon
which this series depends.
The philosopher is not a mere observer; instead, he conducts exper¬
iments with the nature of consciousness and turns to himself for answers
to his specific questions. This is a system for persons who are able to
think for themselves. {One of the features of this system is that it cannot
be learned in a historical manner.} It cannot be grasped merely by read¬
ing and study. Every person must produce it within himself, particularly
since no fixed terminology will be introduced. Kant produced so many
mere imitators precisely because he did adopt a fixed terminology. {Un¬
like Kant’s, this system does not have any special terminology of its own,
M This system possesses universal validity; it is based upon the nature of all rational be¬
ings, and it is absolute—possessing its foundation within itself—for it is founded upon our
self-activity (p. 25).

102 Second Introduction
and thus it does not encourage mere imitation. Instead, one can grasp
the truth of this system only by reproducing these actions for oneself
and producing these self-observations within one’s own consciousness.
Consequently, it is a system suited only for independent thinkers—
though it can also serve to promote independent thinking, especially
among young men.}
Not that a person already has to be an independent thinker in order
to gain entrance into this system: all that is required is an admiration for
independent thinking. It is unlikely that young people will already have
fallen into those mental ruts that make one incapable of thinking for
oneself. One can encourage independent thinking in others by provid¬
ing them with material for thought. By thinking things through in ad¬
vance, one may be able to lead them to reflect for themselves. 5
Relation of This System to Experience.
Within experience, which this system is supposed to deduce, one
encounters objects and the various properties of the same; within the
system, however, one encounters the actions of rationality itself25 26 and
those modes of action which are involved in the production of objects,
for idealism shows that no other means of arriving at objects makes any
sense. The philosopher asks how representations of things outside of us
arise—as well as how the representations of duty, God, and immortality
originate. This amounts to asking how we arrive at those objects that
are supposed to correspond to these representations. One could thus
call necessary representations “objective representations,” for necessary
representations are representations that are referred to objects. This ap¬
plies to the representations of duty, the Deity, and immortality as well.
One can in this way inquire concerning the origin of an object for us.
Accordingly, philosophy encompasses a system of those actions by means
of which objects come into being for us. But do these actions described
by idealism actually occur? Do they possess reality, or are they merely
invented by philosophy?
To begin with, idealism only postulates a series of original actions. It
does not affirm that such a series actually exists. To do so would be in
violation of the system, which asserts merely that the first action cannot
25	“Man kann zum Selbst[denken] anführen; [dadurch] daß man Stoff giebt worüber ge¬
dacht werden soll, daß man vordenke, and dadurch zum Nachdenken erwecke.” Unfortu¬
nately, most of the virtuoso wordplay in this sentence has been lost in translation.
26	“die Handlungen des Vernunftwesens.” The term Vernunftwesen refers not to any con¬
crete, rational individual, but rather to “rationality as such,” that is, to the essence or struc¬
ture of rationality, which is shared by all self-conscious subjects.

Second Introduction 103
exist without a second one, etc. The actions in question thus do not oc¬
cur separately; for the one action is not supposed to exist without the
other. In a single stroke, I exist and the world exists for me. Within the
system, however, what is really only one action has to be treated as a se¬
ries of actions, for this is the only way in which we are able to think about
it at all; for we are able to grasp only parts, and indeed, only quite spe¬
cific parts.N If a rational being experiences things in accordance with
certain laws, and if he must proceed in this fashion, then he must also
proceed in this fashion within the domain of philosophy as well. One
thought must be linked to another. One must therefore request a person
who asks the above question concerning the reality of the actions de¬
scribed by idealism to consider what he is really asking thereby. What
does he mean by “actually”? What does “reality” mean to him? Accord¬
ing to idealism, these terms designate whatever necessarily occurs within
consciousness. The question then is, Do these actions occur? Where ? How?
Not within the realm of experience; for if they did, then they would
themselves be items of experience, and, as such, they would not belong
within philosophy, which is supposed to display the foundation of expe¬
rience. Therefore, these actions do not possess the sort of actuality that
experience does; nor can one say that they occur within time, for only
appearances have temporal reality.
{The series of necessary actions of reason disclosed by Critical idealism (27)
possesses no reality except this: if one is to succeed in explaining what
one is trying to explain, then one necessarily has to assume that these
actions do occur. But they require no other sort of reality, for in this sys¬
tem there is no other sort of reality at all except for reality of the sort
indicated (i.e., necessity of thinking).}
Professor Beck,27 who has understood the Critique of Pure Reason, still
does not want to go beyond experience. But in this case, all philoso¬
phy—including his own—would be abolished. Kant, however, does not
share Prof. Beck’s opinion on this matter; for Kant asks how experience
is possible, and with this question he raises himself above experience.
{The question has been raised whether the system of Critical idealism (25)
also possesses actual reality, that is, whether the actions of reason it de¬
scribes actually exist.
N On account of our limitation, the idealist’s cognition is, and can never be anything but,
discursive; that is to say, he develops his concepts little by little and infers one from the
other. Thus he develops his system step by step, even though this constitutes but a single act
within our consciousness. I posit myself and a world at the same time—in a single stroke
(pp. 26-27).
57 J. S. Beck (1761-1841) was professor of philosophy at Halle and author of the cele¬
brated, three-volume Erläuternden Auszugs aus den critischen Schriften des Herrn Prof Kant
(1793—96). An excerpt from Vol. Ill, The Standpoint from which the Critical Philosophy is to Be
Judged, is available in an English translation by di Giovanni, in Betwen Kant and Hegel, pp.
204-49.

104 Second Introduction
In answering this question, we must distinguish two different senses of
the phrase “actually to exist.” If one thereby means to refer to a being
within experience, an occurrence in space and time, then the answer to
the question is no. Reality of this sort by no means applies to the actions (26)
described within philosophy, for the foundation or ground, i.e., what I
connect with experience (which is what is here provided with a ground),
is not itself identical with what is grounded thereby. The philosopher
does indeed go beyond all experience.}
What does not lie within the realm of experience possesses no actu¬
ality in the proper sense of the term; it cannot be considered to be in
space and time. Instead, it must be thought of as something that is nec¬
essarily thinkable, as something ideal. The pure I, for example, is, in this
sense, nothing actual. The I we encounter within experience is the per¬
son. Thus anyone who objects to the philosophical concept of the pure
I on the grounds that it does not occur within experience does not know
what he is demanding.
{The question can be truly answered yes only in the sense that the as¬
sertions of the idealist possess reality for the philosopher and are them¬
selves the results of necessary thinking.} These actions do possess reality
for the person who raises himself to the philosophical level; that is, they
possess the reality of necessary thinking, and it is for necessary thinking
that reality exists.28 Experience possesses this sort of reality as well. As
certainly as we exist and live, there must be experience. As certainly as
we engage in philosophical inquiry, we must think of these actions. Some¬
thing that does not occur as such within ordinary consciousness is thus
present within the consciousness of the philosopher. {The philosopher
may and must elevate his consciousness above all experience. (Did not
Kant, and, along with him, Prof. Beck himself, engage in rational inquiry
concerning the possibility of experience?)} The philosopher’s conscious¬
ness expands, and {the system of idealism} thereby becomes comprehen¬
sive and complete.29 His thinking extends just as far as thinking can go.
One can ask questions that go beyond experience; and indeed, we do ask
such questions. But one cannot rationally ask questions that go beyond
philosophy; {that is to say, one cannot adduce any reasons or grounds in
abstraction from all reason. Such a demand is self-contradictory.} For
example, a question such as, “What is the foundation of limitation in
28	“Wer sich zur Philosophie erhebt, für den haben diese Handlungen Realität, nehm-
lich die des nothwendigen Denkens und für dieses ist Realität.”
29	What the text of K actually says is that “the philosopher’s consciousness thereby
becomes comprehensive and complete [ein vollständiges, vollendetes].” The text of H, how¬
ever, makes it clear that by expanding his consciousness to the limits of thinking, the ide¬
alist “finishes and completes” his system and not his own consciousness: “dadurch sein
Bewußtseyn erweitern, soweit als das denken nur irgend gehen kann, und damit w. das
system des Id. geschloßen und vollendet.”

Second Introduction 105
itself?”30 is self-contradictory, and thus is an absurdity. A question of this
sort requires an application of reason in abstraction from all reason.
Human beings naturally progress from reality to reality, from one
level of consciousness to another, and here we may recognize the follow¬
ing three levels:
(1)	One connects the objects of experience with one another in accor¬
dance with laws, but without any conscious awareness of doing this. Ev¬
ery child and savage searches for a reason for every contingent event,
and thereby judges it in accordance with the law of causality, though he
is not conscious of this law.
(2)	One reflects upon oneself and notices that one proceeds in accor¬
dance with these laws, and one thereby becomes conscious of these con¬
cepts. At this second level it often happens that one takes the results of
these concepts to be properties of things. Accordingly, one says things
like “things in themselves are in space and time” {—origin of dogmatism}.
(3)	The idealist observes that experience in its entirety is nothing but
an acting on the part of a rational being.0
(8)	Idealism begins with the self-positing of the I, or with finite reason
as such {and proceeds from there to the individual}. But when we talk
about anything “as such,” we are employing an indeterminate concept.
Thus idealism starts with an indeterminate concept. The idealist then
observes the way in which reason becomes determinate when it is lim¬
ited; and, by means of this act of determination, he allows a rational
individual to come into being—an actual rational being, which is some¬
thing quite different from the indeterminate concept of the I. This in¬
dividual also observes the world and the things in it, and as he does so,
his way of viewing the world is itself observed from the viewpoint of ide¬
alism. The idealist observes how there must come to be things for the
individual. Thus the situation is different for the [observed] individual
than it is for the philosopher. The individual is confronted with things,
men, etc., that are independent of him. But the idealist says, “There are
30	“was der Grund der Beschränktheit, an sich sei.” The reason such a question is “ab¬
surd” is because something can—by definition—be “limited” only by something else. And
thus it is an analytic truth that limitation can never possess its foundation “in itself.”
0	The reason for the different points of view and for the differing opinions and systems
that thereby ensue is contained in the following gradations in the progress of our reason
and in the development of our consciousness.
First level: Mankind acts in conformity with the laws of theoretical reason that govern
thought, but without being conscious of these laws: e.g., the child, the savage—the com¬
mon man.
Second level: Men reflect upon themselves and become conscious of themselves in accor¬
dance with universal rules. They construct concepts, but they take the results of these con¬
cepts to be things in themselves—origin of dogmatism.
Third level of consciousness, at which consciousness represents its own representations
and concepts to itself as an acting of the representing subject, which acts in accordance
with specific rules—idealism (p. 26).

lo6 Second Introduction
no things outside of me and present independently of me/’ Though the
two say opposite things, they do not contradict each other. For the ide¬
alist, from his own viewpoint, displays the necessity of the individual’s
view. When the idealist says “outside of me,” he means “outside of rea¬
son”; when the individual says the same thing, he means “outside of my
person.”
The viewpoint of the individual can be called “the ordinary point of
view,” or “the viewpoint of experience.” Considered from an a priori
perspective and within the context of its place within a genetic account,
this same ordinary viewpoint is found to arise in the course of acting,
and thus it can also be called “the practical point of view.” No abstraction
occurs in acting; but philosophical speculation is possible only insofar as
one engages in abstraction. Thus the philosophical viewpoint can also be
called “the ideal point of view.” The practical viewpoint lies beneath the
idealistic viewpoint.
{Hence one must distinguish the idealistic or transcendental viewpoint
from the ordinary or practical viewpoint, which appears within the course
of ordinary life or in acting. The former commences with the I and takes
as its object nothing but the I;31 in contrast, the world remains present
for the ordinary standpoint, which concerns itself with a rational indi¬
vidual. Viewed from the idealistic standpoint, the practical standpoint
appears to be subordinate, and this enables one to see why and to what
extent the ordinary view is true and why one has to assume that a world
exists. Speculations do not disturb the idealist within the course of his
active life and do not cause him to commit errors. He is a man like any
other; he feels pleasures and he suffers like anyone else, for he possesses
the proficiency to transport himself from the speculative viewpoint to that of
life. One has not yet achieved a clear understanding, has not yet obtained
the true philosophical view of things, and has not yet reached the cor¬
rect standpoint so long as one continues to think and to expect that daily
life is something altogether different [from the standpoint of life as it is
characterized from the speculative standpoint].}
When the philosopher adopts the practical point of view, he behaves
just like any other rational being and is not disturbed by doubt, for he
knows how he arrived at this point of view. Only someone who has just
begun to speculate, but has not yet reached the point of clarity in his
speculations, can be disturbed by speculation. This cannot happen to
the Critical philosopher, for the results of experience and speculation
are always in harmony. But in order to shift back and forth from one
point of view to the other, one needs proficiency;32 and this is precisely
31	“Beym ersten fängt das Ich an u. ist blos das Ich der Gegenstand.” Literally: “The I
commences with the former, and only the I is the object.”
32	Reading, with H, “Fertigkeit” for K’s “Festigkeit” (“stability”).

Second Introduction ÎO^
what the beginner, whose speculations are disturbed by realistic doubt
and whose acting is disturbed by speculative doubt, often lacks.
{It is by no means the case that idealism disturbs any actual person’s
belief in the reality of external things. On the contrary, idealism is much
more likely to strengthen this belief against all doubt engendered by
confused speculation; for idealism indicates the point of view from
which one believes in the reality of things and shows why such a belief is
necessary so long as one occupies this viewpoint.}
{So much for the prolegomena.}

27
§ 1
Preliminary Remarks
(i)	The attempt to establish a first principle within philosophy has re¬
cently encountered strong objection.1 Some base their objections upon
arguments of their own, while others are simply going along with cur¬
rent fashion.
Those who maintain that we should not seek any first principle might
mean by this that one should not attempt to philosophize in a systematic
manner at all, because it is impossible to do so. {[That is, they might (28)
mean that] no systematic connection is possible in philosophy; instead,
one must here and there accept an unproven proposition. Philosophy is
nothing but an aggregate of individual propositions.} The way to remove
this objection is by actually constructing a system.
Or else they might mean something like this: Every proof begins with
something unproven. What does it mean “to prove” something? Anyone
with a clear concept of what is involved in a proof will admit that to
prove something means to connect the truth of one proposition with
that of another, and to do so in such a way that I transfer the truth of
some previously known proposition to another one. But if this is what
“proof’ means, then human beings must possess some truth that neither
can nor needs to be proven and from which all other truths can be de-
1	At the time these lectures were first delivered, the attempt to establish a philosophical
first principle had recently been subjected to harsh criticism in two essays that appeared
almost simultaneously in the Philosophisches Journal einer Gesellschaft Teutscher Gelehrten (to
which Fichte himself was a regular contributor and of which he was soon to become co¬
editor). Presumably, these are the two “recent objections” that Fichte has in mind, though
neither is mentioned by name anywhere in these lectures: (1) Paul Johann Anselm Feuer¬
bach, “Ueber die Unmàglichkeit eines ersten absoluten Grundsatzes der Philosophie” Phil¬
osophisches Journal 2, 4 (1795), and (2) Karl Christian Erhard Schmid, “Bruchstiicke aus
einer Schrift iiber die Philosophie und ihre Principien,” Philosophisches Journal 3, 2 (1795).
[108]

§ i log
rived. If not, then there is no truth at all, and we are driven into an in¬
finite regress.2
(2)	Neither of these opinions seems to have been shared by the better
thinkers who reject [this attempt to discover a first principle].3 Prof.
Beck also lashes out against the attempt to discover a first principle and
contends instead that philosophy must begin with a postulate.4 But a pos¬
tulate is also a starting point, which is not further proven, and thus it is
a first principle. A first principle is any cognition that cannot be further
proven. Thus anyone who states a postulate also states a first principle.
Within the expression “first principle,” Prof. Beck places the emphasis
upon the word “principle”; accordingly, he declares that a first principle
28 has to be something objective, something that simply has to be “discov¬
ered” and then can subsequently be analyzed. But who called upon him
to explain the meaning of a “first principle” in this manner? Philosophy
cannot be established by attending to what is simply “given”; instead, it
can be established only by proceeding synthetically. According to Rein¬
hold, the “principle of consciousness” states a fact, and he claims that
philosophy in its entirety should be generated merely by analyzing what
is contained within this principle.5 It is appropriate to find fault with
such a procedure.
The Wissenschaftslehre begins with an I. But the point is not to analyze
this I, for this would produce a purely empty philosophy. Instead,
the Wissenschaftslehre allows this I to act in accordance with its own laws
and thereby to construct a world. This is no analysis, but instead a
2	“wir werden ins Unendliche getrieben.”
3	“Keine von beiden Meinungen scheinen die beßeren die sich dagegen auf lehnen zu
haben.”
4	An insistence that every systematic philosophy must begin by “postulating” something
is a central feature of J. S. Beck’s “Theory of the Standpoint,” as developed most fully in
the third volume of his Erläuterenden Auszugs, entitled Einzig-möglicher Standpunct, aus
welchem die critische Philosophie beurtheilt werden wwß (1796). In English, see the excerpt
translated in Giovanni and Harris’s Between Kant and Hegel, pp. 206-49.
5	Karl Leonhard Reinhold (1758-1823), Fichte’s immediate predecessor at Jena, was an
influential early popularizer of Kant’s philosophy who also developed his own, highly orig¬
inal systematic reformulation of transcendental idealism. Reinhold called his system “El¬
ementary Philosophy” or “Philosophy of the Elements.” He first expounded it in 1789 in
his Versuch einer neuen Theorie des menschlichen Vorstellungsvermögens and subsequently elab¬
orated it in Vol. I of his Beiträge zur Berichtigung bisheriger Mißverständnisse der Philosophen
(1790) and Ueber das Fundament des philosophischen Wissens (1794). (In English, see the ex¬
cerpt from the latter, The Foundations of Philosophical Knowledge, translated by di Giovanni in
Between Kant and Hegel, pp. 52—103.) The “principle of consciousness,” the “first principle”
of Reinhold’s system (i.e., the principle from which all the other propositions of his system
are to be derived), states that “in consciousness, the subject distinguishes the representa¬
tion from the subject and the object and relates it to them both.” For further information
about Reinhold’s “Elementary Philosophy” and Fichte’s criticism of it, see chap. 8 of Beiser,
The Fate of Reason, as well as Breazeale, “Between Kant and Fichte.”

no § i
continually progressing synthesis. It is thus correct, after all, that phi¬
losophy must begin with a postulate, {but one that is grounded in an Act6 (29)
and not in a fact. (An “Act” is what occurs when I let my I act within itself
and observe what happens. A “fact,” in contrast, is present within con¬
sciousness as something already given or discovered, which can only be
analyzed subsequently.)} The Wissenschaftslehre proceeds in this manner
as well, and it employs the term “Act” to designate its postulate. This
term was not understood; but it means no more—and is meant to mean
no more—than this: one is supposed to act internally7 and observe what
one is doing. This means that if one wants to communicate this philos¬
ophy to someone else, one has to ask the other person to perform the
action in question. In this sense, one does have to postulate something.
A fact is something that is simply found to occur in a certain way
within experience, where it is accompanied by a feeling of necessity.8 All
one can do with such a fact is to begin to analyze it—if, that is, one
wishes to remain consistent and does not wish to assume something else
as well (as Reinhold does with his “principle of consciousness”).9
■ The first principle is a postulate. Just as geometrical instruction be¬
gins with the postulate that one describe space, so too must the reader or
student of philosophy begin by doing something. Anyone who under¬
stands the first proposition is put into the proper frame of mind for
philosophy.
Postulate:
Think the concept “I” and think of yourself as you do this. Everyone
understands what this means. Everyone thinks of something thereby;
one feels one’s consciousness to be determined in a particular manner,
29 and it is by virtue of this that one is conscious of something specific. Now
one must observe what one does when one thinks of this concept.
Think of any object at all—the wall, for example, or the stove. The
thinking subject is a rational being;10 but, in thinking of this object, this
freely thinking subject forgets about itself and pays no attention to its
own free activity. But this is just what one has to do if one wishes to lift
oneself to the viewpoint of philosophy. In thinking about an object, one
6	“Thathandlung.” This is a word of Fichte’s own coinage and is a key term for under¬
standing the 1794/95 version of the Wissenschaftslehre. It is, however, virtually absent from
the Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo (it appears only once in K and three times in H).
7	“man soil innerlich handeln.”
8	“Eine Ursache ist etwas nur so gefundenes in der Erfahrung mit Nothwendigkeit
vorkommendes.” Reading, with H, “Thatsache” (“fact”) for K’s “Ursache” (“cause”).
9	In his 1794 review of Aenesidemus Fichte criticized Reinhold for assuming (without any
argument) that every representation must consist of two elements: form and matter (or
content) (SVF, I: 17—18 = AA I, 2: 58—59; English translation in EPW, pp. 59-77. See Brea-
zeale, “Fichte’s Aenesidemus Review.”
10	“Das denkende ist das Vernunftwesen.”

§ 1 111
disappears into the object; one thinks about the object, but one does not
think about oneself as the subject who is doing this thinking. For exam¬
ple, when I am thinking about the wall I am the thinking subject and the
wall is the object of thought. I am not the wall, nor is the wall I. The
thinking subject and the object of thought are thus distinguished from
one another. But now I am supposed to think about the I. When I do
this, as when I think of anything at all, I am an active subject. {From this
we can see that, whether we are concerned with a representation of an
object or with a representation of the I, we are active in both cases. With¬
out engaging in the activity of thinking we cannot entertain any thought
at all. This is what these representations have in common.) With the same
freedom with which I think about the wall, I now think about the I.11 I
am also thinking about something when I think about the I; but in this
case the thinking subject and the object of thought cannot be distin¬
guished from each other in the way they could be while I was still think¬
ing about the wall. The thinking subject and the object one is thinking
of, the thinker and the thought, are here one and the same. When I think
about the wall my activity is directed at something outside of myself, but
when I think about the I my activity is self-reverting; i.e., it is directed
back upon the I. (The concept of activity requires no explanation. We
are immediately conscious of it; it consists in an act of intuiting.)A
11	Henrick Steffens, who was present as a student for some of Fichte’s lectures during
the winter semester of 1798/99, included in his memoirs the following amusing account of
the listeners’ reaction to these instructions:
“I cannot deny that I was awed by my first glimpse of this short, stocky man with a sharp,
commanding tongue. Even his manner of speaking was sharp and cutting. Well aware of
his listeners’ weaknesses, he tried in every way to make himself understood by them. He
made every effort to provide proofs for everything he said; but his speech still seemed
commanding, as if he wanted to dispel any possible doubts by means of an unconditional
order. ‘Gentlemen,’ he would say, ‘collect your thoughts and enter into yourselves. We are
not at all concerned now with anything external, but only with ourselves.’ And, just as he
requested, his listeners really seemed to be concentrating upon themselves. Some of them
shifted their position and sat up straight, while others slumped with downcast eyes. But it
was obvious that they were all waiting with great suspense for what was supposed to come
next. Then Fichte would continue: ‘Gentlemen, think about the wall.’ And as I saw, they
really did think about the wall, and everyone seemed able to do so with success. ‘Have you
thought about the wall?’ Fichte would ask. ‘Now, gentlemen, think about whoever it was
that thought about the wall.’ The obvious confusion and embarrassment provoked by this
request was extraordinary. In fact, many of the listeners seemed quite unable to discover
anywhere whoever it was that had thought about the wall. I now understood how young
men who had stumbled in such a memorable manner over their first attempt at specula¬
tion might have fallen into a very dangerous frame of mind as a result of their further
efforts in this direction. Fichte’s delivery was excellent: precise and clear. I was completely
swept away by the topic, and I had to admit that I had never before heard a lecture like that
one” (Fuchs, ed., Fichte im Gespräch, II: 8).
A What distinguishes them [the representation of the I and that of an object] is that, in
the case of the representation of my I, the thinker and the thought are one and the same—
in the concept of the I. I am the object of thought as well as the thinking subject. In the
case of other representations, the activity is directed outside of me, but in this case it is
directed back upon myself.

112	§ l
The concept or thought of the I arises when the I acts upon itself, and
the act of acting upon oneself12 produces the thought of the I and no
other thought. The two expressions mean exactly the same: The I is
what it itself posits, and it is nothing but this; and what posits itself and
reverts into itself becomes an I and nothing else. {Thus it is [only] insofar
as I act upon myself and posit myself, [only] insofar as my activity reverts
back upon me, that the I arises and that I think about my I. “I am I,” and
“I posit myself as I”: these two propositions mean exactly the same
thing.}
Self-reverting activity and the I are one and the same. These two ex¬
pressions have precisely the same meaning. This assertion could present
difficulties only if one were to understand more by the term “I” than it
is supposed to mean in the present context.
{Here it is to be noted that we are concerned only with the I for me, or
with the concept of the I for me, insofar as I form it through immediate
consciousness. We are not at all concerned here with any other sort of
being the I might have—as a substance, a soul, etc. Here we must ab¬
stract from all other sorts of being, without presupposing any of them.
We are here concerned solely with the concept of the I.}
The I is not the soul, which is a type of substance. In conjunction with
the thought of the I, everyone surreptitiously thinks of something else
as well. One may think, “Before I can do anything at all [for example,
before I can think of the I], I first have to exist.” But this notion must be
discarded. Anyone who makes such a claim is maintaining that the I ex¬
ists independently of its actions. Or one may also say, “Before I could act,
30 there had to be some object upon which I could act.” But what could
such an objection really mean? Who makes this objection? It is I myself.
I thereby posit myself as preceding myself. Thus this entire objection
could be rephrased as follows: “I cannot proceed to posit the I without
assuming that the I has already posited its own being.”13
The concept of the I arises through my own act of positing myself, by
virtue of the fact that I act in a way that reverts back upon myself. What
has one done when one has acted in this manner, and how did one man¬
age to do this?
{Hitherto, people reasoned as follows:} I am conscious of some object, (30)
B.	But I cannot be conscious of this object without also being conscious
of myself, for B is not I and I am not B. But I can be conscious of myself
This activity cannot be defined; it rests upon immediate intuition and consists in my be¬
ing immediately conscious of myself (p. 29).
“ein Handeln im Handeln auf sich selbst.”
13	“Ich sezte mich also vorher selbst, und der ganze Einwurf ließe sich so ausdrücken:
ich kann das Setzen des Ich nicht vornehmen, ohne ein Gesetztsein des Ich durch sich
selbst anzunehmen.” Unfortunately, Fichte’s play on vornehmen and annehemen is lost in
translation.

§ 1	113
only insofar as I am conscious of consciousness. Therefore, I must be
conscious of this act of consciousness; i.e., I must be conscious of this
consciousness of consciousness.14 How do I become conscious of this?
This series has no end, and therefore consciousness cannot be explained
in this manner. The chief explanation for this impossibility is that con¬
sciousness has always been treated as a state of mind,15 i.e., as an object,
for which, in turn, another subject is always required.0 {Until now, this
piece of sophistry has lain at the foundation of every system—including
Kant’s.} Had previous philosophers only realized that they were reason¬
ing in this manner, then perhaps this realization would have helped
them arrive at the correct point.
The only way to avoid this objection is to discover some object of con¬
sciousness which is at the same time the subject of consciousness. One
would thereby have disclosed the existence of an immediate conscious¬
ness, i.e., an object to which one would not have to oppose a new subject.
We can now answer the previously raised question concerning how we
become conscious of acting. We observed ourselves and became con¬
scious of doing so, even while we were acting. While I was acting, I be¬
came conscious that I was acting. Through immediate consciousness,
the self-consciousness of the acting subject is identical with its conscious¬
ness of acting. {I posited myself as positing—this is intuition; I repre¬
sented myself as engaged in the act of representing; I acted and was
conscious of my acting: these were one and the same.} While I was think¬
ing, and along with my thinking, I became conscious thereof; that is to
say, I posited myself as an actively thinking subject. Thus, in this very act
of consciousness, I posited myself as both the subject and the object of
consciousness, and we have thereby discovered the immediate conscious-
31 ness we have been seeking. I simply posit myself.16 Such consciousness is
14	“Ich muß mir also bewust sein des Actes des B, des Bewustseins vom Bewustsein.”
Though “B” could refer to the previously mentioned object (B), it makes more sense to
assume that here, as elsewhere in K, it is an abbreviation for Bewusstsein (consciousness).
15	“als Zustand des Gemüths.”
R Hitherto, people reasoned as follows: We cannot be conscious of things posited in op¬
position to us, that is, of external objects, unless we are conscious of ourselves, i.e., unless
we are an object for ourself. This occurs by means of an act of our own consciousness, of
which we are able to become conscious only insofar as we, in turn, think of ourself as an
object and thereby obtain a consciousness of our own consciousness. But we become con¬
scious of this consciousness of our consciousness only by, once again, turning it into an
object and thereby obtaining a consciousness of the consciousness of our consciousness,
and so on ad infinitum. Our consciousness, however, would never be explained in this
manner. Or else one would have to conclude that there is no consciousness at all—so long,
that is, as one continues to treat consciousness either as a state of mind or else as an object;
for in proceeding in this manner one always presupposes a subject, which, however, one
can never discover (p. 30).
16	“Ich setze mich schlechthin.” This recalls the famous, oft-quoted formula with which
the 1794/95 Grundlage der gesamten Wissenschaftslehre begins: “das Ich setzt sich selbst
schlechthin.” Though commonly (and misleadingly) translated “the I posits itself abso¬
lutely,” this sentence does not imply that the I posits itself in a special (and mysterious)

ii4 § 1
called “intuition;”17 and intuition is an act of positing oneself as posit¬
ing, not a mere act of positing.18
Every act of representing is an act of self-positing. Everything begins
with the I. The I is not a component part of the representation; instead,
all representation proceeds from the I. All possible consciousness pre¬
supposes immediate consciousness and cannot be comprehended in any
other way.
The identity of the posited object and the positing subject is absolute
{and is what makes all representing possible in the first place}. It is not (31)
learned; it is not derived from experience. Instead, it is what makes all
learning and all experience possible in the first place. The I is by no
means a subject; instead, it is a subject-object. If it were a mere subject,
then consciousness would be incomprehensible. If it were a mere object,
then one would be driven to seek a subject outside of it—which one will
never find. “I,” “subject,” “soul,” and “mind”: these are not the same.
The I is a subject insofar as it posits something in a representation. {The
I becomes an I only by means of an act of self-positing. It is not already
a substance in advance of this act of self-positing; instead, its very es¬
sence is to posit itself as positing. These are one and the same. Conse¬
quently, the I is immediately conscious of itself.}
The I simply posits itself, {that is to say, without any mediation at
all. It is at once subject and object}. In other words, that the I posits
itself within immediate consciousness as a subject-object is itself
something that occurs immediately,19 and no reasoning can go beyond
this. Reasons can be provided for all the other specific determinations
that occur within consciousness, but no reason can be given for imme¬
diate consciousness. Immediate consciousness is itself the ultimate rea¬
son or foundation upon which everything else is based and to which
everything else has to be traced back, if our knowledge is to have any
foundation.
We must possess some knowledge of this ultimate ground, for we are
able to talk about it. We obtain this knowledge through immediate in-
“absolute” manner. Instead, the force of the adverb schlechthin is to emphasize (1) that the
sole, or distinctive, activity of the I qua I is to posit or be aware of itself (“the I is nothing but
this act of self-positing”), and (2) that this activity is immediate or unconditioned, in the
sense that it occurs spontaneously and cannot be inferred from anything else (“the I simply
posits itself’).
17	“Anschauung.” This is one of the most common terms in Fichte’s technical vocabulary,
and, like his use of “representation,” it is directly derived from Kant. In the first Critique,
Kant defines “intuition” as the means by which objects are “given” to us and thus the
means by which a cognition is “immediately related to objects” (see KRV, A19/B33). Like
Kant, Fichte employs the term Anschauung to designate both the mental activity (or power)
by virtue of which such “immediate” representations are possible and the “content” of such
acts: “intuitions.”
18	“ein sich selbst setzen als solches, kein bloßes Setzen.”
19	“daß es sich im unmittelbaren Bewustsein als Subjectobject setze, ist unmittelbar.”

§ i ii5
tuition, and, in turn, we immediately intuit our immediate intuition it¬
self. I.e., we have an immediate intuition of intuition. Pure intuition of
the I as a subject-object is therefore possible. Since pure intuition of this
sort contains no sensible content, the proper name for it is “intellectual
intuition.”
Kant rejected intellectual intuition,20 but he defined the concept of
intuition in such a way that intuitions could only be sensible; and there¬
fore he said that these sensible intuitions cannot be intellectual. Against
32 those, such as Platner,21 who claim to intuit the I as a thing, or against
those who believe they can intuit an immediate revelation within them¬
selves, Kant is correct. What is intuited in sensible intuition is fixed, pas¬
sive, and ordinarily in space; but all that is intuited in our intellectual
intuition is an acting. Kant too had such an intuition, but he did not re¬
flect upon it. Indeed, his entire philosophy is a product of this intuition;
for he maintains that necessary representations are products of the act¬
ing of a rational being and are not passively received. But this is some¬
thing he could have come to realize only by means of intuition.0 Kant
recognizes that self-consciousness occurs, i.e., a consciousness of the act
of intuiting within time.22 How could he have arrived at such a recog¬
nition? Only by means of an intuition—and such an intuition is certainly
intellectual.
Less rational than Kant’s denial of the possibility of intellectual intu¬
ition is the behavior of those who have continued to reject intellectual
intuition even after its reality has been deduced (e.g., the author of the
review, published in 1796 in the Allgemeine Literatur-Zeitung, of Schell-
ing’s On the I).23 People of this sort will never become conscious of their
own freedom of thinking.
Anyone who has ever thought of the I has also had a concept of it.
How does this concept of the I come into being?
20	For Kant’s denial of the possibility of “intellectual intuition,” see, e.g., KRV, Bxlff.n.,
B68, B72, B158, and B307.
21	Ernst Platner (1744-1818), a professor of philosophy and medicine at Leipzig, is best
remembered for his critique of Kantianism and for his defense of a skeptically tinged va¬
riety of “common sense” empiricism. Fichte chose Volume I of Platner’s Philosophische Aph¬
orismen (1793) as the text for his introductory course “Logic and Metaphysics,” which he
first taught in the winter semester of 1794/95 anc* subsequently offered every semester he
remained at Jena. In relation to the present point, see Fichte’s comment in his lectures on
Platner (as transcribed by Krause): “In consciousness I appear to myself not as a real thing,
but rather as really acting” (AA IV, 1: 225).
c Kant, in his system, merely failed to reflect upon this type of intellectual intuition. His
system, however, does contain the result of this intellectual intuition: [in the recognition]
that our representations are products of our self-active mind (p. 31).
22	“Bewustsein des Anschauens in der Zeit.”
23	The author of this anonymously published review was Johann Benjamin Erhard
(1766-1827), a physician-philosopher from Nürnberg who had been one of Fichte’s ear¬
liest supporters. Erhard’s highly critical review of Schelling’s (utterly Fichtean) treatise of
1795» ^orn hh ak Prinzip der Philosophie oder über das Unbedingte im menschlichen Wissen, ap¬
peared in the October 11,1796, issue of the Allgemeine Literatur-Zeitung.

In order to be able to perceive myself as positing myself, I must pre¬
suppose that I have already been posited.24 I transport myself from a
state of repose and inactivity to the activity of self-positing, and I oppose
this activity to my previous state of repose and inactivity. Otherwise, one
would be unable to notice the representation of activity, which is a
wrenching away from a state of repose and a movement of transition to
activity.25 {It is only by wrenching ourselves away from a state of repose
and transporting ourselves into the opposite state that we are able to ob¬
tain any consciousness (i.e., any intuition) of our activity. Only through
this opposite state do we obtain a clear awareness of what “acting” is (for
this is something we are quite unable to define). We are able to think about
activity only by means of what is fixed, only by means of a state of re¬
pose; and conversely, we are able to think about stability only by means of
activity.} Consequently, it was only by means of opposition that I was able
to become clearly conscious of my activity and to obtain an intuition of it.
Acting is, so to speak, “agility,” a movement of inner or spiritual
passage.26 Within consciousness, this agility is opposed to a passive state
of stability or rest. On the other hand, I can be conscious of this state of
repose only to the extent that I am conscious of activity. One must,
therefore, observe acting and repose simultaneously in order to be able
to observe either of them individually. Indeed, it is only through oppo¬
sition that it is possible to obtain a specific and clear consciousness of
anything whatsoever.27 Here, however, we are concerned not with this
proposition in its general form, but only with the specific, individual
case before us.
Let me now turn my attention to the state of repose, within which
what is really an activity becomes something posited.28 It no longer re¬
mains an activity; it becomes a product, but not, as it were, a product
24	“Um mich selbst als mich selbst setzend wahrnehmen zu können, müßte ich mich
schon als gesezt voraussetzen.” This sentence provides a good example of some of the fea¬
tures of Fichte’s presentation which are lost in translation. Though “presuppose” is, for
most purposes, the best and least problematic way of rendering voraussetzen, it fails to dis¬
play the connection between “positing” (setzen) and “presupposing” (voraussetzen, i.e., “pos¬
iting in advance”). Yet it is just this connection that one must appreciate in order fully to
understand the point of Fichte’s claim in this sentence.
25	“sie ist ein Loßreißen von einer Ruhe, von welcher zur Thätigkeit übergegangen
wird.”
26	“agilitaet, Uibergehen im geistigen Sinne.”
27	Though this principle of “determination through opposition” has its roots in the di¬
alectical tradition, Fichte acquired his understanding of it through his careful study of the
writings of Salomon Maimon. Elsewhere Fichte refers to it as “the law of reflective oppo¬
sition” (§ 2) or “the principle of determinability” (dictat to § 3). Maimon (1752-1800) was
one of the most acute critics of Kant’s Critical undertaking—as well as one of its most orig¬
inal interpreters. For more information concerning Maimon’s skeptical Kantianism, see
chap. 10 of Beiser’s The Fate of Reason.
20 “in dieser Ruhe wird das was eigentlich ein Thätiges ist, ein Gesetztes.” The ordinary
meaning of the adjective gesetzte is “calm,” “composed,” or “steady,” and this is certainly
part of the meaning of the term in this sentence. But gesetzte is also derived from the past

ii7
§ i
separate from the activity itself. It does not become any sort of matter29
or thing that could precede the I’s representation [of it]. What happens
is simply that acting, by being intuited, becomes fixed. Such [an instance
of stabilized acting] is called a “concept,” in opposition to an intuition,
which is directed at the activity as such.
The subject and the object collapse into each other within this self-
reverting activity when it is intuited as a state of repose, and this pro¬
duces something positive and stable. Neither this coincidence of subject
and object, nor the manner in which an intuition is thereby transformed
into a concept can be intuited; this is something that can be grasped only by
means of thinking. Only intuition can be intuited rather than thought.
Thinking can only be thought; it cannot be intuited. Indeed, every ex¬
pression of the mind can be grasped only through itself. This confirms
the theory of consciousness we have just been discussing.
Being conscious of intuition is what is meant by “philosophical ge¬
nius.” All thinking begins with intuition; accordingly, all philosophizing
must also begin with intuition.
Kant calls philosophy “rational cognition by means of concepts.”30 But
this cannot be right, even according to Kant himself; for he says that ev¬
ery concept without intuition is empty.31 In addition, Kant also talks
about transcendental imagination, and this is something that can only be
intuited.
The concept arises in one and the same moment with the intuition
and cannot be separated from it. It seems to us as if the latter would
have to precede the former,32 but it seems this way to us only because we
refer the concept back to an intuition.0
participle of setzen, “to posit,” and as such it means “that which is posited.” Both senses are
combined in Fichte’s use of das Gesetztes: in contrast to the activity of positing, what is pos¬
ited within this activity becomes fixed and passive. Note too the relationship between these
terms and the usual German word for “law,” das Gesetz—again, “that which is posited.”
29 “Stoff.”
30KRV, A713/B741.
31	KRV, A51/B75. What Kant actually says in this celebrated (and frequently misquoted)
passage is that “thoughts without content are empty, and intuitions without concepts are
blind.”
32	The text of K reads: “Der Begriff entsteht mit der Anschauung zugleich in demselben
Moment, und ist von ihm unzertrennlich. Es scheint uns als ob der erste eher hätte sein
müßen.” This passage appears to be corrupt, and thus two corrections have been intro¬
duced in the translated text: (1) “von ihr” (“from the intuition”) is substituted for “von
ihm” (“from the moment” or, even less plausibly, “from the concept”); and (2) “der letzte”
(“the latter”) is substituted for “der erste” (“the former”).
D Applying this [general principle of determination via opposition] to the self-positing
or internal acting of the I, we obtain an inner intuition of the stability or state of repose of the
same and, at the same time, an inner intuition of its activity—an intuition of it as both acted
upon and acting. These coincide. Within this state of repose, however, the positing of the
activity is transformed for us into something posited, into a product, into a concept. That is
to say, when one considers this very same activity, first of all, not as an instance of acting,

118	§ i
Cf. § l of the printed Wissenschaftslehre,33 where the same thing is said
in a different manner; for there we proceeded from the concept to the
intuition, whereas the path followed here is just the reverse.
{Comparison with the instructor’s book,	(32)
Foundations of the Entire Wissenschaftslehre (1794):
§ 1. The absolute first principle can only be sought out; it can be nei¬
ther proven nor determined.
Within the context of the Wissenschaftslehre, to “determine” something
means the same as to limit it, and indeed, to restrict it to a certain region
or sphere of our knowledge. But the absolute first principle embraces (33)
the entire sphere of our knowledge. This principle is always valid in re¬
lation to any consciousness whatsoever.
“I posit myself as positing myself.” This presupposes that something
has already been posited, which can only be inferred and grasped by
means of thinking. But this is immediate consciousness, and the I itself
consists in just this harmony.
“I simply posit myself.” This means: “I am conscious of myself, first as
the object of consciousness, and then again as the subject, i.e., the sub¬
ject who is conscious.” The discovered and the discoverer are here one
and the same. The I is identical with immediate consciousness.
“I am.” In this context, “to be” means “to be the object of a concept.”
In contrast to this, “becoming” signifies an acting. When considered as
a state of repose, this acting, this activity, is a concept, a being, indeed, a
specific being, which the I portrays as a fact—a concept, something sim¬
ply found.
Here we began with the Act and arrived at the fact; but the method of
the book is just the reverse.
By the expression “in a state of repose” I mean that I find the I to be
something posited, a product, something discovered.
but as something stable and fixed, and glimpses and intuits it accordingly as a state of re¬
pose (since otherwise we would be unable to intuit it as engaged in acting, as active), this-
produces a product, namely, the concept of the I. The concept of the I can only be thought
of and cannot be intuited, since only activity that is engaged in acting is intuition. Such an
intuition, however, is impossible without simultaneously thinking of its opposite—that is,
without thinking of the same activity as previously in a state of repose, i.e., without a con¬
cept. Consequently, both are always connected with each other; concept and intuition co¬
incide (pp. 31-32).
33GWL. See SW, I: 91-101.

§ i H9
One has to begin with being and infer self-positing therefrom, and
vice versa. Similarly, one must infer the intuition from the concept, and
vice versa. Both must be present together. A state of repose must be con¬
nected with the intuition of activity. I obtain the concept only by means
of intuition and I obtain intuition only by means of the concept, for both
occur simultaneously in the free act of the self-reverting activity. Noth¬
ing precedes this act; no “something in itself’ is presupposed as the
foundation of this act.}
34	§ 1
Postulate
Construct the concept of the I and observe how you accomplish this.
It was claimed that if one does what one is asked to do one will dis¬
cover that one is active and will discover in addition that one’s activity is
directed upon one’s own active self. Accordingly, the concept of the I
comes into being only by means of a self-reverting activity; and con¬
versely, the only concept that comes into being by means of such an ac¬
tivity is the concept of the I. By observing oneself while engaged in this
activity, one becomes immediately conscious of it; i.e., one posits oneself
as self-positing. As the sole immediate form of consciousness, this im¬
mediate consciousness of oneself must be presupposed in the explana¬
tion of all other possible varieties of consciousness. It is called the
original intuition of the I. (The word “intuition” is here employed in
both the subjective and the objective sense. For intuition can mean two
different things: (a) it can refer to the intuition that the I has, in which
case the I is the subject, the intuiting subject; or (p) it can refer to the
intuition that is directed at the I, in which case the intuition is objective,
and the I is the intuited object. Here the word is employed in both senses
at once.) One will further observe that one is unable to posit oneself as
acting without positing a state of repose in opposition thereto. When¬
ever a state of repose is posited, a concept is produced—in this case, the
concept of the I.
§ i (dictated 1798)34
All consciousness is accompanied by an immediate self-conscious¬
ness, which is called “intellectual intuition,” and this immediate
34 Every § in K concludes with a paragraph of recapitulation and summary, indicated (as
in the preceding summary paragraph) by a repetition of the § number. These summaries

120	§ i
self-consciousness must be presupposed if one is to be able to think at all.
Consciousness, however, is an activity, and self-consciousness, in partic¬
ular, is the self-reverting activity of the intellect, or pure reflection.
Remark: Everything follows as a consequence of carrying out the in¬
dicated self-observation. This pure act of reflection, viewed as a con¬
cept, is thought of by the I. Accordingly, I posit myself simply by means
of myself, and all other consciousness is conditioned by this act of self-
positing.
In this course we will be conducting experiments. I.e., we will compel
reason to provide us with answers to specific, systematically calculated
35 questions; then, for the purpose of science and as an aid to memory, we
will formulate the results of our experiments in concepts.
or dictata were apparently, as the name indicates, carefully “dictated” to the class by Fichte
himself, so that the students could transcribe them as accurately as possible. Consequently,
though the text of H differs in many respects from that of K, the summary paragraphs are
virtually identical in the two versions (though H customarily places the dictata at the be¬
ginning rather than at the end of each §). § i and § 2 of K each include, in addition, a
second summarizing paragraph, with the heading “dictated 1798.” Presumably, Krause
obtained these alternate dictations from someone who had attended one of Fichte’s two
earlier courses of lectures on the WLnm, most probably that of the winter semester 1797/
98. These additional, earlier summaries do not appear in H, nor do they continue in K
after § 2 (though § 3 repeats the same summary—it appears once at the beginning and
once at the end of the §).

35
§ 2
From the moment we began the Wissenschaftslehre, we have been trying
to characterize the I solely in terms of activity and to see how this can be
accomplished; for idealism appeals to the acting of the I in order to ex¬
plain everything that is present within consciousness, and Critical ide¬
alism explains this in terms of law-governed, necessary acting. Our
present goal is to show as clearly as possible that the activity character¬
istic of the I is not just any sort of activity, but must be a self-reverting
activity. Thus we did not say that the concept of the I comes into being
by means of any acting whatsoever, but only by means of a quite specific
mode of acting.
{The question with which we are concerned remains, How was this (33)
process of self-intuition constituted? If A came into being by means of B,
then what is the foundation of B, etc.? Thus we always proceed geneti¬
cally, i.e., by self-observation of the “how.”}
Let us now reflect upon this.
(1)	Something else needs to be noticed concerning what was postulated
in § 1. We were there concerned with a specific mode of acting, in con¬
trast with or in opposition to another, quite conceivable one. We focused
our attention upon that act by means of which the concept of the I is
brought into being—and upon no other act. We took note of this restric¬
tion, and only insofar as we did so were we conscious of the activity in
question. Indeed, the act we were concerned with was itself this very act
of turning away from all other possible objects and concentrating upon
one specific one. Accordingly, all acting can be thought of as a kind of
restricting or limiting to a specific sphere. All consciousness of spontaneous
self-activity is a consciousness of our own restricting of our own activity; but I
cannot intuit myself as restricting my activity in this way without also positing a
transition from indeterminacy to determinacy, and thus without at the same time
positing this state of indeterminacy and opposing it to the determinate
[ 121 ]

122 § 2
condition.1,A {Nothing determinate is possible apart from what is deter- (34)
minable, i.e., without intuiting the one along with the other.} Much de¬
pends upon this point.
Limiting ourselves to the thinking of the I, what is determinate is pos¬
ited as an activity and is present to consciousness as such, and thus it is
only by means of activity that we become conscious of what is indeter¬
minate as well. Since what is indeterminate is posited in relation to and
36 along with what is determinate, let us call it “what is determinable.”1 2 As
noted above, activity cannot be intuited apart from stability or a state of
repose. Nor can activity be intuited except as a determinate activity; but
the concept of a determinate activity is impossible without intuiting a
determinable one.
■ The following objection might occur to someone: Granted that it has
been shown that the I can be posited only by means of a self-reverting
activity, and granted too that an activity can be posited only in opposi¬
tion to a state of repose and that a determinate activity can be posited
only by positing something determinable: it is still fallacious to infer
from this the general principle that there can be nothing determinate
apart from something determinable, for one cannot derive a universal
from a particular. [Reply:] All consciousness is mediated by the self-
positing of the I, and everything that occurs [therein] is a product of the
I’s activity. Therefore, whenever a determinate product is encountered,
it must be the product of a determinate activity of the I. And thus, since
no determinate activity of the I can be posited without positing a de¬
terminable activity, the above principle does indeed possess universal
validity.
(2)	{Here too one must avoid that rashness which is such a temptation
within a transcendental philosophy, and must not become transcendent.
1	“Alles Bewustsein der Selbstthätigkeit ist ein Bewustsein unseres Einschränkens unserer
Thätigkeit, nun kann ich mich nicht anschauen als beschränkend, ohne ein Uibergehen von der
Unbestimmtheit zur Bestimmtheit zu setzen, also ohne die Unbestimmtheit mit zu setzen, und dem
Bestimmten engegenzusetzen.”
A We abstracted from all [other] possible ways of operating and focused our reflection
upon a single point: namely, upon ourselves. We restricted our activity to our own I. Thus
it was by means of this passage from what is undetermined—in other words, from what is
determinable to what is determinate, from what is unlimited to what is limited—that we
became conscious of our own activity and obtained an intuition of it.
Just as we found above that no intuition of the activity of our I was possible without also
intuiting the I in a state of passive repose, so here as well: the movement of transition from
what is determinable to what is determinate is not possible unless one also and at the same
time intuits or posits something determinable. No intuition or concept of our own activity
is possible unless these two spheres are posited in opposition to each other: the sphere of
what is limited and the sphere of what is unlimited. The two must be connected with each
other (p. 34).
2	“welches wir, weil es in Beziehung auf das Bestimmtsein und mit ihm zugleich gesezt
wird, das Bestimmbare nennen wollen.”

§ 2	123
More specifically, one must not presuppose the existence of any “activity
in itselfand then imagine that one is able to think of this “activity in
itself’ only in the modified form produced by the colored glass of rep¬
resentation. Instead, the activity that concerns us here is nothing but the
transition from determinability to determinacy. The “activity in itself ’ is
simply the concept, which, however, is not presupposed; instead, this
concept arises merely by means of and along with the intuition of the
activity. This activity itself is both concept and intuition.}
Moreover, this determinate activity is not a determinate activity as
such or in general (which would be self-contradictory); instead, it is a
particular determinate activity. (Nothing can be anything at all without
being determined in a certain way. In an abstract context one may well
talk as if this were not so, but here we are dealing with intuition, not with
abstraction.) This act of limiting oneself, positing oneself, immediately
intuiting oneself, and becoming conscious of oneself is one single act:
the act of intuiting oneself.
But the determinate activity may not be posited unless the opposed
activity, from which the determinate activity is extracted, is also posited
along with it. An act of self-positing can [not] be understood unless an
act of non-self-positing is posited along with it. This follows from what
was said above; but it is also a consequence of the nature of intuition
itself. One does not and cannot think clearly of anything at all without
also thinking at the same time of its opposite, {i.e., without negating its
opposite by thinking “it cannot and should not be this.” (To be sure,
within everyday life this usually occurs only tacitly. But when we are
dealing with difficult objects and are engaged in sublime and abstract
meditations, this [explicit] way of proceeding promotes uncommon
clarity.)} This will not be proven here, but anyone who thinks clearly of
anything will discover this truth within himself. Therefore, in connec¬
tion with the act of positing the I, one necessarily has to think about the
act of not positing the I as well.
37 In accordance with our postulate, the activity that previously had to be
posited as determinable activity in general has now been posited as Not-
I, i.e., as an activity directed at what is opposed to the I. {An act of non- (35)
self-positing is therefore posited in opposition to the act of positing the I;
a Not-I is opposed to the I—A minus A. In the case of the act of self-
positing, the activity is directed back upon itself. This act of positing the
Not-I is determined by opposition. In the former case, the activity is di¬
rected at the subject that actively posits itself as positing, i.e., at what is
active (subjectively and objectively). In the latter case, the activity is di¬
rected not at a self-positing subject, but rather at something posited—
something stable, in a state of passive repose—which is present without any
assistance.} Thus, as surely as the I is posited at all, a Not-I must be pos¬
ited along with it. The character of the Not-I emerges directly from this

124	§ 2
opposition, for the activity by means of which I arrive at the Not-I is the
sole means I possess for characterizing it.
Let us note, first of all, that the activity that posits the I and that which
posits the Not-I are similar, inasmuch as activity of the I is present from
start to finish [in both cases].3 I am the thinking subject in each case. But
they are different in that, in the first case, the I’s activity is directed
within itself and has as its object that self whose act is this very activity;
whereas, in the second case, the activity of the thinking subject must
have as its object something in a state of repose, something that does not
posit itself (at least not in the same sense in which the I posits itself).
(Whether self-positing might still pertain to it in some other sense is not
a question that needs to be addressed at this point.)4 This object is some¬
thing that is present for the self-positing I we are currently considering.
The self-positing I simply encounters it. It does not find it to be a prod¬
uct of its own activity. Instead, the I finds this object to be a product of
necessity, though the necessity in question is itself conditional, since it
arises only because the I has first posited itself.8 (In order to think
clearly about the I, I require something to be the Not-I.)
{This necessary opposition of spheres, without which no clear intu¬
ition—[and hence no clear] thought—is possible, is what Kant calls “syn¬
thesis.” This is the process of going beyond intuition and connecting
concepts thereto. Accordingly, we here proceeded beyond the I—consid¬
ered as self-positing—and beyond the intuition of its spontaneous self¬
activity. By means of this act of opposing, we obtained the concept of the
I—considered in a state of repose, as something posited.}
The concept of the Not-I is not a concept derived from experience. It
can be derived only from the very action through which it is con¬
structed. The Not-I is something merely posited, and “being” is its sole
determination. (The concept of being will later5 be derived from the
concept of activity, which itself admits of no further explanation.)
(3)	Let us now reflect a bit upon what we have just discovered and con¬
sider how we were able to do this. Every act of connecting something
with the I, i.e., all synthesis, depends upon something posited in oppo¬
sition thereto (as we saw in this and the previous §). Before I can intuit
3	“Zuförderst, daß die Thätigkeit des Ich durch gehe, darin sind beide gleich.” Krause
later emended this passage by replacing durch gehe (“permeates” or “is present from start
to finish”) with daraufgehe (“is directed at”).
4	See below, § 9, where a variety of (unfree) “self-positing” is attributed to nature itself.
B To be sure, activity is present in the latter case [that is, when the Not-I is posited] as
well, since the activity of the I relates itself to it; and, in this respect, they are similar. The
I is [in this latter case] the representing subject, but it is not at the same time what is rep¬
resented (the object). Accordingly, this second, opposed activity is a product not of free¬
dom, but rather of necessity—albeit a conditioned necessity, since it is conditioned by the
fact that the I is posited. It has the character of a being and not of a becoming (p. 35).
5	In sect. 4 of the present §.

§2	125
or think anything, I must posit something in opposition to it. This act of
opposing6 provides the basis for all instances of going beyond the I,
whether this is a matter of going beyond intuition (as in the previous §)
or of going beyond the I itself (as in the present §). In the previous § we
began with intuition and then connected the concept to it; in this § we
began with the posited I and then went beyond it to posit a Not-I.
38 The question now arises, Does our argument to this point constitute a
deduction, or has something once again, as in the previous §, been pre¬
supposed? Have we demonstrated that a Not-I must be united with the
I? Or have we once again presupposed something; and if so, what? We
reached this conclusion by means of the law of reflective opposition,7
and we established this law within intuition.0 Thus it could not have
been this law that we have presupposed. Instead, we have presupposed
the following: We began with the thought that if the I itself is to be, in
turn, an object of our consciousness, then a Not-I must be posited. But
does the I have to become an object of consciousness? This has not been
proven. {The only thing we have provisionally postulated is that we are
conscious of something. Thus it remains undecided whether immediate
consciousness must itself be represented, i.e., whether it must be viewed
as an object in turn, i.e., whether a transition from the posited I to the
pure I is required. This will be dealt with at the appropriate time.} In
the previous § we proved that all consciousness must be preceded by im¬
mediate consciousness; this immediate consciousness, however, is never
something objective, but is always the subjective factor8 within all con¬
sciousness. The consciousness upon which our present argument is
based is therefore not immediate consciousness; it is a representation of
immediate consciousness, but it itself is not immediate consciousness.
Immediate consciousness is an Idea9 and does not appear within con¬
sciousness.0 {[It is present] only in the reciprocal interaction of opposed (36)
activities—where it is simultaneously subject and object.} The first act of
6	“Dieses Entgegensetzen,” that is, this act of positing something in opposition to what¬
ever I posit.
7	“das Reflexionsgesez des Entgegensezens.”
c The reality of this law was demonstrated in intuition (p. 35).
8	“ist nie ein objectives, sondern immer das Subjective.”
9	“Es ist Representation des unmittelbaren, aber es selbst nicht. Das unmittelbare ist
Idee.” For the term Idee (“Idea”), see n. 6 to the First Introduction.
D When the I in a state of repose becomes, in turn, an object of consciousness—that is
to say, insofar as the I has passed into a passive state and is thought of as a mere object—
then it is at the same time the Not-I as well; neither can exist without the other. But this
consciousness is not immediate; it is mediated or indirect. An immediate consciousness is
never present as an object. The I as an object is a mere Idea10 and is never present within
consciousness (p. 35).
10	Note the conflict between this assertion and the corresponding passage in K, accord¬
ing to which it is the immediate I that is an Idea, not the “I as object.” Surely the text of H
is either corrupt or in error at this point, since the I, as we will see, can certainly be an
object of consciousness (albeit not insofar as it is “immediate”).

126 § 2
thinking of the I was an instance of free acting, but a11 necessary mode
of acting follows from this. We have proven that there is no conscious¬
ness of the I without consciousness of the Not-I. We could indeed intro¬
duce a postulate at this point [that is, we could simply postulate that the
I has to become an object of consciousness], but if we were to do so, we
would also have to announce that it is a postulate, in which case it would
become part of the first principle we are presupposing. When we have
ascended higher12 we will learn whether it is necessary to introduce such
a postulate. [So far] we have neither established nor proven the existence
of the Not-I. What we have demonstrated is the reciprocal interaction of
the I and the Not-I.
(4)	We must now compare the new synthesis with the previous one and
attach this new link to our chain of inferences.
In the previous § we remarked that one is unable to posit an activity
without opposing thereto a state of passivity. In the present § we have
observed that one cannot posit a determinate activity without opposing
thereto a determinable one. Thus the procedure by means of which we
accomplished the transition from one term to the other was the same in
both inquiries. The action we have now deduced is the same as the pre-
39 vious one; we have simply become better acquainted with it. {By com¬
paring this synthesis with the previous one, we can see that the same
thing happens over and over again. The action that occurs is always
the first action; indeed, at bottom there is only one action. Only within
the system of a Wissenschaftslehre is this single action presented as a series
of actions.} And if the action is the same, then that to which the transi¬
tion is made must also be the same; i.e., the state of repose must be the
same thing as determinability, and the latter must be included in the
former; for it is precisely when an activity is still determinable as such
that it can be characterized as a state of repose and not as an activity.
One could call this state of repose or this determinability an “ability” or
“power.”13 A power is not the same as that which possesses it; i.e., it is not
a substance. We say that a substance possesses a certain power, which is
11	Reading “daraus folgt ein nothwendiges” for K’s “daraus folgt kein noth wendiges.”
What the text actually states is that no necessary acting is implied by the occurrence of the
first, free act of self-ref lection, but this contradicts the entire argument of this section. But
perhaps the text is not corrupt and should be interpreted to mean merely that we have not
yet demonstrated that some other act must necessarily occur in order for the I to posit itself—
specifically, that it must become conscious of itself.
12	Fichte frequently employs metaphors of ascent and descent to describe the overall
structure of the WLnm. §§ 1-12 constitute the “ascent” to the axial point of the entire pre¬
sentation, from which all the subsequent §§ “descend.”
13	“Man könnte diese Ruhe oder diese Bestimmbarkeit Vermögen nennen.” Vermögen
(rendered here as “power”) is an important term in Kant’s philosophical vocabulary, often
(albeit misleadingly) translated into English as “faculty” (e.g., by Norman Kemp Smith in
his influential translation of the Critique of Pure Reason).

§ 2	127
thus one of its accidental properties.14 Nor is a power the same as an
activity. A power is not an action; it is that by means of which action
first becomes possible. When an activity is grasped by means of concepts
it is transformed into a state of repose. Power, repose, and determin-
ability are one and the same. {The I in a state of repose is the same thing
as (activity considered as) determinability, for a passive state of repose
has the same character as a determinable activity. If one removes what
is determinate from an activity, then it remains merely determinable;
in other words, it is a power—that is to say, that which makes an action
possible—or an activity in a state of repose that cannot be further ex¬
plained but can only be grasped conceptually. This is how activity be¬
comes a state of repose or a power or determinability.) Thus the positing that
occurs in the first act [that is, the act of positing a state of repose in op¬
position to an activity] is the same as the positing that occurs in the sec¬
ond [that is, the act of positing a determinable activity in opposition to
a determinate one]. When an activity is intuited in a state of repose it
becomes a concept. One could also express this the other way around
and note that the situation is the same with determinability. But in this
case one must note that this concept [of a determinable activity] is a con¬
cept only in relation to the intuition of the I; in relation to the Not-I, it
is itself an intuition.15 In the intuition the activity is in action, whereas in
the concept it is not in action; there it is a mere power.16 When this
activity in the form of a concept is related to the Not-I, however, it is
then an intuition.E Thus we may obtain two sorts of intuition: inner
and outer, that is, intellectual intuition and another sort, which refers to
the Not-I.
The state of mind with which we are presently concerned contains two
separate spheres: the sphere of what is intended and the sphere of what
is necessarily {conjoined with this, or a sphere of what is} found, which
we will call the sphere of “the given.”17 {Remark: In this context “given”
14	“die Substanz hat Vermögen; es ist Accidens.” Fichte uses this Latin term in the sense
in which it was employed within Scholastic philosophy, to designate what has no indepen¬
dent existence of its own and can exist only within (or as a modification of) something else,
namely, a substance. The English reader should resist the temptation to read this term as
implying contingency. Some “accidents” (or “attributes”) are indeed contingent, but others
are necessary (or, as the Scholastics called them, “proper”).
15	As a comparison with the corresponding passage in H reveals, this sentence is mis¬
leading. It is not the concept of the determinable activity that is an intuition in relationship
to the Not-I, but rather the determinable activity itself.
16	“In der Anschauung ist die Thätigkeit in Action, im Begriff nicht, sondern da ist sie
bloßes Vermögens.”
EThis determinable activity is therefore something passive, something that can be
grasped only conceptually; and thus, insofar as it is opposed to intuition, it is an act of
comprehending or a concept. In relation to the Not-I, on the other hand, it is an intuition
(PS^)-
17“die eine ist die des Beabsichtigten, die andere die des nothwendig gefunden, welches
wir nennen wollen das Gegebne.” The clause inserted from the parallel passage in H

128 § 2
4°
means not “given from outside,” but rather “encountered by means of
the laws of reflection that govern our reason.”} Our intention was to
posit an activity, and this activity was found to be accompanied by a state
of repose. Moreover, our intention was to posit a determinate activity,
and this was found to be accompanied by a determinable one. The first
sphere thus includes (i) real, self-reverting activity = A, and (2) that
which has come into being by means of this activity = B. The sphere of
the given likewise includes (1) determinable activity (i.e., activity that is
determinable, in the sense that it can turn into actual acting, though it
may itself be determined in other respects) = C, and (2) the Not-I that
is produced by means of this determinable activity = D.F {Our terminol¬
ogy is thus as follows:
A.	The real determinate activity	1	Al_	, ,
_ ^	r , r	r	Both	as intended.
B.	The concept of the I	J
C.	The determinable activity	1	_ .
D.	The Not-I.}	J	Both	as
Let us now investigate these in the light of the above account of intui¬
tions and concepts.
All consciousness begins with the previously indicated immediate con¬
sciousness (see § 1). {Immediate consciousness is the foundation of all
consciousness. We have postulated this, since immediate consciousness
never appears as an object of consciousness. Instead, it is the subjective
factor in all consciousness, the factor that constitutes the conscious sub¬
ject. It is merely the representing subject18 of consciousness.} The A that
posits itself in and by means of this consciousness is a representation of
immediate consciousness, a representation that we who are engaged in
philosophical inquiry have freely chosen to produce. (This immediate
consciousness is the conscious subject in every act of consciousness, but
it is not the subject of which we are conscious. {Nothing that we can be
conscious of is immediate consciousness itself; instead, it is presentwithin
all consciousness and lies at its foundation, but only as the sub-
(37)
(“eine Sphäre des nothwendig damit verbundenen oder des gefundenen oder gegebe
nen”) helps to clarify the meaning of “necessarily” in this sentence.
F To the sphere of what is intended
(subjective) pertain:
Activity
Determinate activity
The concept of the I
To the sphere of what is given
(objective) pertain:
Repose
What is determinable
The concept of the Not-I
Let us call the real, determinate
activity that lies within this sphere, i.e.,
the activity in agility, “A.” And let us
call what comes into being thereby, i.e.,
the concept of the I, “B."
Let us call the determinable activity in
a state of repose that lies within this
sphere “C.” And let us call the Not-I
that is produced thereby “D.”
18 “Representation
(p.36)

§ 2	129
jective factor, the Idea, something posited in accordance with the laws of
reflection.} What the eye sees in this case is the seeing of the eye. {The
eye looks at seeing: the eye is immediate consciousness, and seeing is all
other consciousness. Consciousness is no more the same as immediate
consciousness than is the eye the same as seeing.}) We freely chose to
generate this representation, and, if we had wished, we could have con¬
cerned ourselves with something else; thus we have left to one side the
question of whether there might be some other respect in which such a
representation might be necessary.
■ This A, this observing of the act of self-positing, is an intuition; more
precisely, it is an inner, intellectual intuition {or intuition of the I acting
within itself—of the A—[an intuition] of the intuited act of self-positing
or of self-reverting activity—A}. We have already discovered (in the first
§) that no intuition—including intuition A—is possible apart from a
concept. What concept must be connected with intuition A? Could it be
[the concept of] what is intended (= B)7 Obviously not, {for this in¬
tended I is supposed to present itself within consciousness as active, as
engaged in intuiting, and thus as self-positing and produced by A,}
[and,] since the concept we are seeking must lie within the sphere of
what is given, {which is not produced before my very eyes, it must lie in
C}. Accordingly, the concept we are seeking must be the one that con¬
ditions intuition A; i.e., it must be C = what is determinable, or the ac¬
tivity in a state of passive repose. {The determinable activity, or activity
in a state of repose, is thus the concept that lies at the basis of all intu¬
ition, for repose can be grasped—can be thought or posited—only in
relation to activity. Thus what is given to me by means of C is the concept
of the I, for in order for me to be able to posit myself, a movement of
transition from repose to activity must occur.} Thus, in relationship to
intuition A, C is the concept that determines A. But in the context of a
different relationship, this same concept C can also be called an intu¬
ition. {But where does this concept C come from?} It is immediate con- (38)
sciousness itself, which is not intuited but is comprehended or grasped
through concepts—and comprehended not as an activity, but as a state
of repose. {For activity in a state of repose is a mere concept, which can
never appear in intuition and can never be an object of intuition; in¬
stead, as a concept or a power, i.e., as something posited, C is based upon
immediate consciousness, or rather, C is itself immediate consciousness
and therefore is an immediate concept. In this concept the I discovers itself
as substance, as something posited, as the determinable, active C, which
lies at the foundation of every determinate activity and of every conscious¬
ness.} This concept is what is copied in intuition A. (Every act of intuition
is an act of copying.) This concept is the most immediate and highest
concept, and it is grounded upon intellectual intuition, which, as such,
never becomes an object of consciousness, though it does become an

13°	§ 2
object of consciousness in the form of a concept.0 In and by means of
this concept the I discovers itself and appears to itself as something
given. I can conceive of myself [that is, I can grasp myself conceptually]
in no other way than as an I, i.e., as self-positing, and thus as intuiting.
The concept in question is thus the concept of an act of intuiting, and
this is the sense in which this concept itself can be called an “intuition.”
The I is self-positing (a self-positing eye),19 and it is comprehended as
41 such; i.e., it is conceptually grasped as an intuition. Thus, in relation to
A, C is a concept; but it is an intuition in relation to some possible X. I
discover myself to be intuiting inasmuch as I discover myself to be intu¬
iting something = X. (For Kant, both outer and inner intuition are
merely sensible. Thus, according to him, the I appears to itself only as a
determinate object, but I maintain that it appears to itself as a determin¬
ing subject.)
{Accordingly, the / is both a concept and an intuition. This is precisely the
point that distinguishes this system from others—including the Kantian
system.}
In the previous §, C was only a concept.; here it is both a concept and
an intuition. Later on it will be an intuition. Thus it can mean different
things, depending upon the different contexts within which it is posited.
In C, the I was found to be self-positing, but it was not found to be
active; instead, it was there found to be in a state of repose, something
posited as self-positing. Its activity is canceled as such; it is an activity in
a state of repose, which nevertheless is and remains an intuition. Since it
is always true that an intuition stands over against a concept and is pos¬
sible only by means of this opposition, this is the case here as well. What
is posited in opposition to C is what we previously called D. The char¬
acteristic feature of all concepts is repose; but C, considered as an intu¬
ition, is already in a state of repose. Thus, since D is now supposed to be
a state of repose in relationship to C, D must be a state of repose in a
state of repose.H What then is D?
G This immediate concept of the I (= C) becomes an intuition only insofar as it is com¬
prehended or grasped conceptually. That is to say, the I cannot comprehend itself without pos¬
iting itself as an intuiting subject. What is comprehended is thus an act of intuiting. In
order to arrive at the concept of the I—indeed, in order to arrive at any concept at all—an
activity has to be opposed to the I’s state of repose; this is thus necessary if the I is to be
discovered through intellectual intuition, if it is to be grasped clearly and perspicuously, i.e.,
if it is to be comprehended. The concept itself, however, can be grasped only through
thought (p. 38).
19 “eine sich selbst sezendes Auge.” Radrizzani plausibly suggests that “sezendes” may
well be a mistranscription of “sehendes,” in which case the phrase could be rendered “an
eye that sees itself.” This emendation is supported by the corresponding passage in H.
H Although C, in relationship to A, is an activity in a state of repose, it nevertheless is
and remains an act of intuiting, and indeed, a passive intuiting: namely, in relationship to
what is opposed to it (= D). This concept D also possesses the character of passive repose,
for it is something given.

§ 2	131
Insofar as C is opposed to D, C is, to be sure, an activity [in a state of
repose], one that can be summoned into actual activity by means of free
self-determination. In its essence it is an activity. (C is the activity of the
I, considered as a substance. We will explain this in more detail below; at
this point it is nothing more than a figure of speech.) {As activity in re¬
pose, C is the concept of the I as a substance. But it is only relatively
passive; i.e., it is passive only in relation to A. Thus C can also be con¬
sidered to be active in relation to X. But if this occurs, then a passive
state of repose must again be opposed to C. This state of repose which is
posited in opposition to what is already a state of relative repose cannot
itself be relative, i.e., a mere privation or denial of activity.} D, which is
the opposite of this activity, would thus have to be the real negation of
activity, not merely the absence or privation of the same. It would have
to cancel and annihilate activity; thus it is not zero, but is instead nega¬
tive magnitude,21 {something more than nothing}. This is the true char¬
acter of actual being, the concept of which has incorrectly been
considered to be a primitive, immediate concept; for the sole immediate
concept is the concept of activity, {and this concept cannot be explained.
In contrast, [the concept of] being can be derived. Being is a negative (39)
concept:} In relation to an active subject that is posited as lying outside
of being itself, being negates; being cancels productive activity: What is
cannot be produced or made.22 {It must first be annihilated, for positive
productive activity presupposes negative productive activity, i.e., an act
of annihilation. Thus being also negates whatever exists;23 it negates be¬
coming. Before anything can become, it must cease to be.} In relation to
the positing subject, being negates goals: I cannot become what I am.
42	Without realizing it, ordinary common sense has always understood
this point: Refusing to be content with the existence of the world, it as¬
cended to [the thought of] a creator.
Being is the characteristic feature of the Not-I. Activity is what char¬
acterizes the I. Dogmatism begins with being, which it interprets as
something primitive and immediate.
Insofar as the activity of the I is in a passive state of repose in C, the
I’s activity is annihilated by the Not-I. This activity within C, which is not
real activity, but which can be called the “substance” of the I, shows itself
to be an activity at least to the extent that it is an intuition. In contrast,
Even as an intuition, C is already in a state of repose, for it has been posited in oppo¬
sition to A; and D is also in a state of repose, because it is something given. Therefore, to
the extent that D is the product of C, it is a state of repose in a state of repose.20 (p. 38).
20	“Ruhe der Ruhe.”
21	“negative Größe.”
22	“Sein NEGIRT in Beziehung auf ein auser dem Sein geseztes Thätiges; durch Sein wird
Machen aufgehoben. Was ist kann nicht gemacht werden.”
23	“Das Seyn negirt also auch das Seyende.”

132	§ 2
what is opposed to C [ = D] could not be an intuition, but would have to
be the real negation of intuiting; i.e., it would have to be something in¬
tuited—and this would have to be true of the Not-I as well. {This is the
true character of the Not-I: as what is intuited it must always be related
to an intuiting subject (namely, to C).} This is why it is absurd to treat the
Not-I as a thing in itself. It must always be related to an intuiting subject.
(5)	We saw above how the entire mechanism of the human mind is based
upon the necessity of positing one thing in opposition to another. But
these opposing terms are one and same, merely viewed from different
sides. The I, which lies within the sphere of what is intended, and the
Not-I, which lies within the sphere of what is discovered, are one and the
same. These simply represent two, inseparably linked, aspects or ways of
looking at the same thing, for the I must be a subject-object. Everything
follows from this last claim. Two series arise from the original intuition:
the subjective series, or the series of what is intended, and the objective
series, or the series of what is found. These two series cannot be sepa¬
rated, for neither can exist without the other. To say that these are both
aspects of the same thing, i.e., to say that the subjective and the objective
[series] “coexist,” is to say that they are not merely inseparably linked
within reflection, but that they are also one and the same object of re¬
flection. The activity that reverts into itself and determines itself is none
other than the determinable activity. These are one and the same and
are inseparable.1
{Thus, for example, B and C are one and the same. B is the concept of
the I produced by A. C is the concept of the I, considered as something
given; for in order to be able to posit myself as active (= B), I have to
presuppose a transition from a state of repose to one of activity, and this
presupposes an activity in a state of repose as such, i.e., a power to be¬
come active in one way or another, and this passive, determinable activ¬
ity is the concept of the I in C. The difference between B and C is simply
this: B is the concept of the I which A produces in consciousness before
our very eyes; in contrast, C is the concept of the I which is discovered by
intuition to be present within consciousness, and hence C belongs to the
sphere of what is “given” or “objective.”
Accordingly, B is produced through freedom, whereas C is produced
through original intuition.24}
1 One can call what is intended “subjective” and what is given “objective,” since both are
originally present within consciousness. Not only are they always together within reflec¬
tion, but they are also inseparable as an object of reflection, or as what is reflected upon.
There can be no determinate activity without a determinable one, no activity of the I as
I without the same as a state of repose, as Not-I. This is always one and the same activity
(P-39)-
14 The translation of this sentence corrects what appears to be an error in the transcrip¬
tion of H, which reads: “Eben so ist A durch Freiheit hervorgebracht, B hingegen durch die
ursprüngliche Anschauung.” In the translation, B is substituted for A, and C for B.

§2	133
The Not-I is thus nothing other than another way of looking at the I.
When we consider the I as an activity, we obtain the I; when we consider
it in a state of repose, we obtain the Not-I. One cannot view the I as ac-
43 tive without also viewing it in a state of repose, i.e., as Not-I. This is the
reason why the dogmatist, who does not think of the I as engaged in
activity, has no I at all. His I is an accident of the Not-I. Idealism has no
Not-I; for the idealist, the Not-I is always simply another way of looking
at the I. Within dogmatism, the I is a particular type of thing; within
idealism, the Not-I is a particular way of looking at the I.
{In idealism, therefore, the Not-I is nothing but an accident. Actually, (40)
idealism recognizes no Not-I; its Not-I is only a particular way of looking
at its I. That is to say, it first views its I in intellectual intuition as active,
and this furnishes idealism with its I. However, it also views the I in in¬
tellectual intuition as passive, and this furnishes idealism with its Not-I.
Remark: This is only one way of looking at the Not-I. There is, how¬
ever, also another way of looking at it, which we will examine later.}
§ 2 (Dictated 1798)
When this very activity of reflection, through which the intellect pos¬
its itself, is intuited, it is intuited as a self-determining agility; and this
agility is intuited as a movement of transition from a state of passive re¬
pose and indeterminacy, which is nevertheless determinable, to one of
determinacy. This determinability here appears as the power to think ei¬
ther of the I or of the Not-I, and thus the concept of determinability
necessarily involves the concepts of the I and the Not-I, which are pos¬
ited in opposition to each other. Accordingly, whenever one engages in
self-active reflection each of these concepts appears as something inde¬
pendent of this act, and the characteristic feature of the Not-I is being,
i.e., a negation.
§ 2
It is claimed that when one constructs the concept of the I one will
also discover that one cannot posit oneself as active without positing this
activity as self-determined, and that one cannot do this without positing
a movement of transition from a state of indeterminacy or determinabil¬
ity—which movement of transition is itself the very activity one is here
observing (see sections 1 and 2 above). Similarly, one cannot grasp the
concept {of the 1} which comes into being by means of the determinate
activity without determining this concept by means of an opposed Not-I;
and what is determinable is the same as what was previously called the
state of repose (§ 1), for it is determined precisely by being transformed

!34	§2
into an activity.25 Moreover, that which, in relation to the intuition of the
I, is a concept of the I, is, in relation to the Not-I, an intuition. More
44 specifically, it is the concept of the act of intuiting (section 4). As a con¬
sequence of this opposition, the Not-I can be characterized as the {real}
negation of activity; that is, it can be characterized as “being,” which is
the concept of canceled activity. The concept of being is thus by no
means an original concept, but is a negative one, derived from activity.
{A few more words of explanation:	(41)
The concept of activity which occurs here and which underlies all that
has been said consists in nothing but the movement of transition from what
is undetermined to what is determinate; i.e., it consists in an act of
wrenching away from a state of repose and a transition to acting. But just
as soon as this activity acts in some determinate manner—i.e., once it is
“in action”—it is no longer an activity, but is instead the I. This is where
the concept of the I enters the picture. For this reason, this activity does
not permit of any explanation, but has its foundation entirely within
consciousness and must be copied in intuition.
Furthermore, concerning the law of reflection which governs all our
cognition (namely, the law that states that we cognize nothing—in the
sense of knowing what it is—without at the same time thinking of what
it is not): this law was not a postulate that we proposed, but was instead
a matter of intuition.
And it is precisely this sort of cognition, i.e., cognizing something by
means of opposition, that is called “determining” something.
To be sure, the system still rests upon a postulate, and this is certainly
something that should be noticed. What we have postulated is our cog¬
nition as such, insofar as this is grounded in immediate consciousness,
considered as an object. In short, what we have postulated is the move¬
ment of transition from the posited I to the pure I. We will discuss this
at its proper time.}
Comparison with §§ 2 and 3 of the compendium.26
Had we postulated anything here, it would have been a general cog
nition of the transition from the I to what is represented. That this cog
25	“weil es eben zur Thätigkeit bestimmt wird.”
26	I.e., §§ 2 and 3 of GWL (see SW, I: 101-23). As always, K and H cite the first, 1794/95
edition of GWL, for which this translation substitutes page references to the text in SW, I.

§2	135
nition must be determined objectively is something that is established
within intuition.27 From this necessary determinacy we deduced deter-
minability, and from determinability we deduced the Not-I. The portion
of the compendium corresponding to this section proceeded in the di¬
ametrically opposite direction. It began with the act of opposing28 the
Not-I [to the I], and this opposition was posited as absolute (§ 2). The act
of determining was then derived from this act of opposing (§ 3). Both
paths are correct, since the necessary determinacy of the I and the nec¬
essary being of the Not-I bear a reciprocal relation to each other. One
can proceed from either to the other. Either path is possible. But our
present path has this advantage: that the determinacy of the I is also
what links the I with the Not-I.J What we have here spoken of as the
“relationship between determinacy and determinability” is called “quan¬
tity” (or sometimes “quantifiability”) in the book.29 This has given rise to
some misunderstandings, for many have taken this to imply that the I is
something extended. In fact, all that really possesses quantity is the pos¬
iting subject itself.K But here we are not yet concerned with this. The
third § of the previous exposition would thus correspond to the second
§ of this one, and vice versa. Another path has also been pursued here
with respect to the Not-I, which is no longer postulated immediately, but
is instead postulated indirectly.
{The Not-I is also derived in a different manner in § 2 of the book, in (42)
which the absolute opposition is supposed to be established by means of
Note that the pagination of SW, I is also provided in the critical edition of the same text
included in AA I, 2, as well as as in the English translation included in SK.
27	“Hatten wir hier etwas postulirt, so wäre es das [mc] Erkenntniß überhaupt des
Uibergehens vom Ich zum Vorgestellten[.] Daß diese Erkenntniß, dieß objective bestimmt
sein müße, ist in der Anschauung nachgewiesen.” This obscure passage demands some
emendation, which is only marginally facilitated by the parallel passage in H: “Zwar
beruht das System auf einem Postulate [. . . ] nehmlich; unsere[r] Erkenntiß überhaupt,
in sofern sie sich auf dem unmittelbaren Bewußtseyn als Objekt betrachtet—gründet—
kurz der Übergang von dem gesezten Ich zum reinen Ich.” (“To be sure, this system rests
upon a postulate [...], namely: our knowledge as such, insofar as this is grounded upon
immediate consciousness, considered as an object—in short, [what we have postulated is]
the transition from the posited I to the pure I.”)
28	Reading, with Radrizzani, “Entgegensetzen” for K’s “Entgegengesezten” (“what was
opposed”).
J The path followed in the compendium is the opposite of the one we are presently fol¬
lowing. In § 2 of the book we started with the Not-I, and from § 3 on we progressed to
what is determinable, and finally to what is determinate.
Each of these two methods is correct in itself, since they are reciprocally related to each
other. Nevertheless, the present method is preferable since it doubles the connection. The
determinacy of the I, with which we begin, is also at the same time what connects the I and
the Not-I (p. 41).
29	See SW, I: 108-9.
K What § 3 calls “quantity” is the relationship between determinacy and determinability,
and refers to the necessary conjunction of two opposites, which must nevertheless be
viewed as opposed to each other. Thus “quantity” designates the entire range of activity—
including both determinable and determinate activity (pp. 41-42).

136	§ 2
the logical principle “-A is not = A.” Everyone will concede this princi¬
ple itself at once, but how do I know that it is true?
From experience? This is insufficient, for how could this be known
from experience? Instead, this [logical] opposition is absolute—because I
posit something in opposition and must do so.30}
p. 101, no. 1. This proposition establishes the absolute act of opposing
as such.
p. 103, no. 6. “The act of opposing [etc.].” One cannot posit acting
45 without also positing a state of repose, nor something determinate with¬
out something determinable, nor an I without a Not-I. This is the origin
of the unity of acting as well as of the unity of consciousness.
p. 104, no. 9. The act of absolute opposing is here demonstrated. If
this act were impossible, then how could anything be opposed to any¬
thing? The I is posited absolutely; hence what is absolutely posited in
opposition is the Not-I.
{If something is supposed to be absolutely opposed, then the question
arises, opposed to what? To nothing else but the I, for this is what is im¬
mediately posited. Thus the only possible immediate act of opposing is
an act of positing something in opposition to the I. This absolute act of
positing in opposition is absolute; thus it cannot be learned from expe¬
rience, but first appears within experience in the form of something
that is opposed [to the I’s self-positing], and only then does experience
become possible.}
p. 105, § 3. “with every step, etc.” This is meant simply as a clarifica¬
tion of what occurs within us. {“To prove” means the same as “to estab¬
lish within intuition.” We can analyze only what occurs within us, what is
already in us.} The older method continued in this manner and then
merely analyzed what occurs.
p. 106, no. 1. “insofar as [etc.].” This “insofar as” already includes
within itself what is to be derived. To this extent, “insofar as” means
“quantity” or “sphere.” One could say that if the Not-I is posited, then
the I is not posited. Yet both the Not-I and the I have to be present
within one and the same consciousness, for without an I, the Not-I posits
nothing. One cannot understand an opposite without positing its oppo¬
site as well. {Instead of “insofar as, [etc.]” it would have been better to
say: “if the Not-I is posited,” etc.
The Not-I is supposed to appear as a certain quantity or sphere of our
activity. But this is not possible unless its opposite, the I, also appears
within consciousness at the same time; and within this identity, the I
must be simultaneously posited [along with the Not-I], for the Not-I is
nothing at all. But what is posited and what is posited in opposition
thereto cancel each other out, and this is therefore a contradiction.
30	“dieses entgegensetzen ist absolut—weil ich entgegensetze, und entgegen setzen muß.”

§2	137
pp. 107-9. Resolution of this contradiction.}
p. 107, no. 1. If opposites are now to continue to exist alongside each
other, the I must possess the power to posit opposites together in one
and the same {state or} act of consciousness, {namely, in intuition,} for (43)
neither is possible without the other. {No I without a Not-I, no activity
apart from repose, etc. This is one and the same act. Neither term is a
part of the act, but both originate at the same time and accompany each
other.} The I thus possesses the power to proceed synthetically.
“To synthesize”31 means “to posit together” or “to combine.” But only
things posited in opposition to each other can be posited in
combination.32 {In order fortan act of combining to occur, opposites
must be able to occur alongside each other in one and the same act of
consciousness.} Thus, if these terms are to be combined in a single act,
then the I must be able to bring opposites—and hence, a manifold—
into being within a single act, and such an act must therefore possess a
certain scope or range.33 {Therefore, insofar as we assume that our ac¬
tivity possesses a certain range or scope, a unified manifold has to
exist.34 For, as the conscious subject, I have to discover that I am active;
but this is impossible unless I think of myself as engaged in a movement
of transition from repose to activity.} This range of this act within which
a manifold is combined and through which the manifold becomes pos¬
sible is called “the capacity for quantity” in the book.
Consciousness of this mode of acting includes that from which the
transition is to be made and that to which it is to be made, as well as the
acting itself. {The activity consists in this very movement. I thereby ob¬
tain both (1) what is discovered, i.e., that from which I make a movement
of transition, and (2) that which is, as it were, produced before my very
eyes, i.e., what is intended. The activity binds together both of these,
what is discovered and what is intended; and in this way makes them
both immediate objects of consciousness. To be sure, they are only in¬
directly glimpsed within the activity; both are included within the same
action, which, as such, is merely their vehicle, as it were. Consciousness,
however, includes all three: that from which the transition is made; that to
which it is made; and the movement of transition, or the activity itself.} Con¬
sciousness is not an act; it is a state of repose and includes a multiplic¬
ity—at the same time that it is led to go beyond it. Within consciousness,
everything is simultaneously united and separated. This is the meaning
of “limits,” “divisibility,” and the “capacity for quantity,” p. 108, no. 8.
31	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “Synthesiren” for K’s “Synthesis.”
32	“Synthesis soll heißen zusammensezen; nun kann aber nur zusammengesezt werden,
was [etjwas entgegengesetzt ist.” Rather than emend the first “was,” as Fuchs does, Radriz-
zani suggests that the second “was” represents merely a careless repetition of the first.
33	“einen Umfang haben.”
34	“Es muß also ein Mannigfaltiges daseyn, das in Einem beisammen ist.”

I38	§ 2
46 p. 109, no. 9. “I as well [as Not-I], etc.” This might give rise to some
misunderstanding. I and Not-I are only parts of the manifold. They lie
within the same consciousness and are not separable from each other;
they are partes integrantes,35 The act of limiting is based upon this: what
the one is, the other is not. But this does not mean that either the I or
the Not-I is to be further divided. What this passage should say is that
consciousness is divisible into an I and a Not-I.
p. 109. “Only now . . . something.” To say that the I and the Not-I are
now both “something” means that we can now ascribe predicates to
them, which occurs only by means of opposition. The only way that any¬
thing can be “something” is by being posited in opposition to something
else.L
{p. 109. “Consciousness contains all reality”: I.e., consciousness is that
which witnesses acting. All determinability, everything that can subse¬
quently be posited, is included within this act.}
pp. 109—10, D. All that has been proven is that if the I is to attain con¬
sciousness, then it must posit a Not-I; but it has not been proven that the
I must attain consciousness.
{Concerning this remark, there remains a gap that needs to be filled:
namely, we have to provide a deduction of the postulate upon which ev¬
erything that has been established so far rests.
The postulate states: The I appears outside of itself as it were, and makes (44)
itself into an object.
Why should and why must the I do this?} (p. 36)
35	“integral parts.”
L For anything to “be something” means that one can ascribe a predicate to it, albeit only
by means of opposition: What is I is not Not-1 (p. 43).

The I’s action of self-positing is a movement of transition from inde¬
terminacy to determinacy.1 We must now reflect upon this action in or¬
der to discover how the I passes from indeterminacy to determinacy. (44)
{What is it that mediates this action of self-positing, that is, this movement
of transition from what is determinable to what is determinate?}
(1)	No grounds can here be adduced for this action, for we have reached
the limit of all reasons.2 All one has to do at this point is to observe what
is there to be seen. Everyone will see that nothing mediates [this move¬
ment of transition from indeterminacy to determinacy]. The I under¬
takes this movement of transition because it undertakes this movement
of transition; it determines itself because it determines itself. It accom¬
plishes this transition by means of a self-grounding act of absolute free¬
dom, and this is a creation out of nothing, an act of producing
something that did not exist before, an absolute beginning. {The I passes
from what is determinable to what is determinate in, as it were, a single
bound.} The state of indeterminacy does not contain within itself any
foundation or reason for the ensuing determinacy, for each of these two
states cancels the other. At moment A, I was undetermined, and this in¬
determinacy constituted my entire nature.3 At moment B, I am deter¬
minate; something new is present, and it has arisen from me. This
passage [from indeterminacy to determinacy] is accomplished by means
of a self-grounding act of freedom.
1	In K, § 3 begins with a summary paragraph under the heading “§ 3 (1798).” Since this
paragraph is virtually identical to the summary paragraph that concludes § 3, it has been
omitted from the translation. See below, n. 24.
2	“Hier giebt es keine Gründe; wir sind an der Grenze aller Gründe.” There can, in prin¬
ciple, be no Gründe (reasons) for the ultimate Grund (foundation).
3	“denn beide heben sich auf. Im Moment A war ich unbestimmt, mein ganzen Wesen
wurde in dieser Unbestimmtheit aufgehoben.” The last clause could also be rendered “and
this indeterminacy canceled my entire nature.”

140	§ 3
(2)	The activity that expresses itself in this freely initiated movement of
transition is called “real activity,” {for it is an act of generating or creat¬
ing something on its own. Unlike its opposite, namely, that act of intuit¬
ing, which we will call “ideal activity,” this real activity was not produced
from the preceding state of indeterminacy. This act of absolute freedom
is not the content, but rather the form of the act of transition from de-
terminability to determinacy.} The act in which this transition is accom¬
plished is called a “practical act”; and the field within which it expresses
itself is called “the field of the practical.” We observed this act and are
continuing to do so. The activity in which such observation occurs is
called “ideal activity.”
As an idealiter4 active, intuiting subject, I now discover this act of ab¬
solute freedom. But I can neither discover nor describe it without pos¬
iting something in opposition to it. “I determine myself’: this means
that I transform a possibility into a reality, a power5 into an activity. I
accomplish this absolutely free act of self-determination by means of a
{practical} power to determine myself through absolute freedom.A The
term “power” signifies the possibility of activity. But one cannot under¬
stand this unless one sets forth the law of reflection through which the
concept of power originates. Power is nothing but another way of look¬
ing at activity. Any particular act can be intuited only when it is ex¬
plained with reference to a power, and this also applies to the act of
absolute freedom. There is no power apart from activity and no activity
apart from power. They are one and the same thing, simply construed
from two different sides: construed as an intuition, it is an activity; con¬
strued as a concept, it is a power.
{Something can be said to possess a “practical power” if it possesses the
possibility of becoming something else—insofar as this possibility is
thought of as in a state of repose, apart from activity. The power we are
here concerned with would thus be the concept of absolute freedom, or
the very act of intuition. This concept and this act determine each other
reciprocally.}
48	(3) The sharp difference between ideal and real activity can be easily
stated. Ideal activity is an activity in a state of repose, an act of positing
4	“idealiter.” Fichte employs the Latin terms idealiter (“in an ideal sense”) and realiter
(“in a real sense”) to designate actions, respectively, of the “ideal” and the “real” powers
discussed in the previous section. To act realiter is thus to engage in practical, efficacious
action. To act idealiter is to become aware of the previous sort of action realiter.
5	“ein Vermögen.”
A Since no act can be clearly intuited unless something is posited in opposition to it, we
will posit in opposition to this act of absolute freedom a practical power of absolute freedom
(p. 44).

§3 l4l
in a state of repose, an act that loses itself in the object, an act of intu¬
iting, which is fixed in the object.6
Real activity is true activity, which is an instance of acting. {Real ac¬
tivity consists in agility, in the transition to acting, and contains within
itself the reason why it is determined in a particular way. Thus it is not
anything fixed, but is self-determining.} Ideal activity can also be in mo¬
tion and can also be a movement of transition; indeed, when engaged in
intuiting freedom, the ideal activity really is such a movement of tran¬
sition, but what makes an act of intuiting a movement of transition is not
anything that lies within the act of intuiting itself, but is instead derived
from the object intuited, which, in this case, is freedom. The intuiting
subject obtains only an image or copy [of its object]. Unlike real activity,
ideal activity does not possess within itself the ground of its determinate
being, and this is why it is in a state of passive repose. The ideal activity
has its foundation in the reality7 that lies before it.
{The real activity produces something real8—it is the condition for the
possibility of all intuiting. The ideal activity is only an act of mirroring or
copying, an act of observing the productive act—an act of representing—
of grasping something through concepts. It is not our real goal.}
These two activities can be comprehended only in opposition to each
other.
(4)	Let us specify more clearly the nature of the ideal and real activities
by contrasting them with each other.
(A)	There can be no real activity of the I apart from ideal activity, for
it is the essence of the I to posit itself. In order for the I’s activity to be
real, it must be [posited] by the I,9 but it is posited by means of the ideal
activity.B
We ascribe force to a natural object; but, since such an object lacks
consciousness, we do not say that it possesses this force “for itself.” Only
the I possesses force for itself.
(B)	Conversely, there is no ideal activity of the I apart from real ac¬
tivity. An ideal activity is a [real] activity that has been posited by the I
6	“eine in die Ruhe sezen, ein sich im Objecte verlieren, ein im Objecte fixirtes An¬
schauen.” The translation follows Fuchs’s alternate reading of this passage, which substi¬
tutes “in der Ruhe” for “in die Ruhe.”
7	“in dem realen.”
8	“Die reale bringt etwas reelles hervor.”
9	“so muß sie durch das Ich sein.” It appears likely, especially in the light of the next
sentence, that the word gesezt (“posited”) should be inserted in this sentence, between “Ich”
and “sein.” Without this interpolation, the sentence could be translated: “In order for the
I’s activity to be real, it must be produced by the I.”
B There is no real activity (qua activity of the I) without ideal activity; for the self-
positing of the I is impossible without ideal activity, and the act of self-positing is precisely
the I—hence the I too Would not exist if the ideal activity did not exist (p. 45).

142	§3
and has then itself become an object of reflection and is, in turn, rep¬
resented by means of ideal activity. Otherwise, the I would be like a mir¬
ror, which indeed “represents” things, but does not then turn around
and represent itself.
■ That the ideal activity itself becomes an object in turn is something
postulated along with the I. But it is made into an object by real activity.
Thus if there is no real activity, then there can be no self-intuition of the
ideal activity. Without the real activity, the ideal activity would have no
object, nor would it be anything if the real activity had not placed some¬
thing before it.c {Thus, without real activity, there would be no activity (45)
of the I as an object. Ideal activity is the product of the practical power.}
49	(C) Without noticing it, we have already {filled the gap} indicated
above;10 that is, we have shown that immediate consciousness is no con¬
sciousness at all, but is a hollow self-positing that produces nothing, an
intuition in which nothing is intuited. Thus we have discovered the an¬
swer to the question, How is it that the I goes beyond immediate con¬
sciousness and forms consciousness within itself?11 For if the I is to exist
at all, then immediate consciousness must, in turn, be posited through
absolute freedom.0 This act of placing oneself before oneself through
absolute freedom is a free act; but, if the I is to exist, this same act is also
necessary.
Accordingly, the ideal activity would be a product of the practical
power, and the practical power would be the existential foundation of
the ideal activity. Nevertheless, one should not think of these as sepa¬
rated from each other. The ideal is the subjective aspect of the practical;
it is that which witnesses the practical; and, since nothing exists for the
I except what is observed by the I, it is therefore only thanks to the ideal
activity that anything exists for the I.
{In §§ 1 and 2 the task was to produce the I. The task of § 3 is to dis¬
cover the basis for the I’s movement of transition from what is determin¬
able to determination. The former task was based upon the ideal
activity, the latter upon the real activity. The former witnessed the pro¬
ductive activity; the latter is the productive activity itself. This real ac¬
tivity is thus the condition for the possibility of all intuiting, for there is
no intuiting without acting. Real activity is therefore the foundation of
c Conversely, there is no ideal activity apart from a real activity of the 1. It is by means
of the real activity that the I itself, in turn, becomes an object for itself (p. 45).
10	The “gap” left open by our previous failure to answer the question, “Why must the I
appear to itself as an object?”
*' “wie kommt das Ich dazu aus dem unmittelbare Bewustsein herauszugehen, und in
sich das Bewustsein zu bilden.”
D How then can the I proceed beyond immediate consciousness? It does this by positing
itself, which occurs when immediate consciousness becomes consciousness. This occurs
through the act of freedom, that is, through an act in which consciousness places itself before
itself and produces itself out of itself— i.e., by means of spontaneous self-activity, which
constitutes the essence of the I (p. 45).

§3	143
ideal activity. The ideal activity is the product of the practical power. At
bottom, however, these are but one and the same action, simply consid¬
ered from different points of view. Therefore, if one is what is grasped
conceptually,12 the other is what is intuited, and vice versa. Neither can
exist apart from the other, without which it is nothing at all.}
I, the subject who acts realiter,13 affect myself. First I am undeter¬
mined, and then I become determinate. I accomplish this by myself. I
grasp and lay hold of myself realiter. Since this is an act of a self-affecting
I, this act of [self-]affecting is accompanied by an ideal activity, by an act
of intuiting—in short, by consciousness. Precisely because it becomes
consciousness, this consciousness becomes an intuition of itself.
{An image of this real activity is that of a river that continues to flow
even while it mirrors itself in our eye. What our eye does when it ob¬
serves the river corresponds to the ideal activity.
Real activity is also what in ordinary life is called “exerting oneself’—
i.e., generating, from out of ourselves, as it were, a new effort that ex¬
ceeds our customary effort.}
To say that self-intuition is a product of the practical power means:
insofar as I affect [myself] realiter, I observe myself; and this act of ob¬
servation constitutes self-intuition.
(5)	It is here taken as established that there is nothing except what is in
consciousness. We have seen that there is no consciousness apart from
real activity, i.e., without absolute freedom. Everything that can exist ex¬
ists only in conjunction with and by means of absolute freedom. Without
absolute freedom there is nothing.
{We began with the proposition, “nothing exists except what is within
consciousness.” But there is no consciousness without freedom; there¬
fore, freedom is the standpoint of all philosophy, as Kant correctly re¬
marked somewhere,14 although he does not call attention to this within
his own system.} Thus freedom is the ground of all philosophizing, as
well as the foundation of all being. Take your stand upon your own self,
upon freedom: you will then possess a firm standpoint.
Consciousness is immediately connected with freedom; indeed, there
is nothing else with which it could be connected. Freedom is the first and
immediate object of consciousness. All consciousness reverts into itself.
50	Ordinary common sense recognizes this when it says, “I am conscious of
12	“das Begriffene.”
13	“Ich afficire mich selbst, ich der realiter thatige.” See above, n. 4 of this §.
14	See Kant’s description of the concept of freedom as “the keystone of the whole archi¬
tecture of the system of pure reason and even of speculative reason” in the Preface to his
Kritik der praktischen Vernunft (1786, KGS, V: 3-4; English translation by Lewis White Beck,
Critique of Practical Reason [Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1956], pp. 3—4), as well as his char¬
acterization of the Idea of freedom as the “Archimedean point” of reason in his 1796 essay,
“Von einem neuerdings erhobenen vornehmen Ton in der Philosophic” (KGS, VIII: 403).

144	§3
something/or me.”15 Nothing is explained if we think of the I as a mere
subject, for we will then have to seek a new subject for this subject, and
so on ad infinitum. Consequently, we must think of the I as a subject-
object.
Such an ideal subject-object, however, does not explain anything ei¬
ther; something else must be added, something that, in relation to this
subject, can be a mere object, the object of which I am consciousness.
But from where can such an object come? The dogmatist says that the
object is “given.” Or, if he wishes to combine criticism with dogmatism,
he says that the material content16 is given. But this explains nothing; it
is a mere empty word rather than a concept.
The idealist says that the object is “produced.” Stated in this way, how¬
ever, this answer does not explain anything either. For even if it is true
that the object is the product of the I, insofar as the I engages in real
activity, it is equally true that, insofar as the activity in which the I
engages is “real” activity,17 the I is not an ideal being at all, and hence
the product produced by the efficaciously acting I18 would have to be
“given” to the representing subject—and we would thus be back with
the dogmatism with which we began.
■ Our question can be answered only as follows: The intuiting subject
and the productive subject are immediately one and the same. {Above, (46)
we have deduced this identity as a product of our ideal power, by virtue
of which our I is for itself an immediate subject-object, and thus, we have
exhibited an immediate consciousness, which cannot, in turn, be made
anew into an object—which is how the dogmatist becomes entangled in
an endless circle. Instead, our I, as an immediate subject-object, is the
fixed point beyond which philosophy cannot and may not go. I act be¬
cause I act. I am immediately aware that I am conscious because I am
aware that I am conscious—so here as well: We must have something
that is the immediate object of this ideal [power], for otherwise such ideal
activity would be an empty Idea; and the object in question is freedom,
productive activity, the intuiting subject, I-hood in its entirety.}19 The intuit¬
ing subject witnesses its own productive activity. The immediate object of
consciousness is no object as such, but is rather the productive activity
15	“Ich bin mir etwas bewußt.” Unfortunately, the point of this sentence depends upon a
particularity of the German language (or is it a particularity of German common sense?):
that the verb “to be conscious” always takes a reflexive, dative object.
16	“Stoff.” A feature of K. L. Reinhold’s “Elementary Philosophy” is its distinction be¬
tween the “content” (given) and the “form” (produced) of experience. For Fichte’s critique
of Reinhold’s way of making this distinction, see his 1794 review of Aenesidemus (SW, I:
17-18 = A A I, 2: 58-60; English translation in EPW, pp. 71-72).
17	“in wiefern es REALthätigen Wesens ist.”
18	“das wirkende Ich.”
19	“Ich bin mir daher unmittelbar bewußt, weil ich mir bewußt bin.—so auch hier. Wir
müßen etwas haben, das in Beziehung auf dieses ideale unmittelbares Objekt ist weil
sonst jene ideale Thätigkeit leere idee ist—u. dieses ist die Freiheit, das machen—das
ANSCHAUENDE	die ganze ICHHEIT.”

§3	145
itself—i.e., freedom. The sentence, “the I posits itself,” thus has two
inseparably linked meanings: an ideal and a real meaning, which are
simply united in the I. There is no ideal positing without real
spontaneity,20,E and the converse is also true. There is no self-intuition
without freedom, and vice versa. Nor is there any consciousness without
self-intuition.
Prior to the act of freedom, there is nothing; everything that exists
comes into being along with this act of freedom. But the only way we are
able to think of this act is as a movement of transition from a preceding
state of determinability to one of determinacy. Thus, from whichever
side we look, we are always speaking of the same thing, though we view
it in two different ways, and the axis around which everything turns is
the act of freedom. But this free act itself is not possible unless it is ac¬
companied, on the one hand, by determinability or immediate conscious¬
ness and, on the other, by what is supposed to be produced, i.e., the
intuited I.20 21 Neither of these two is separable from the other, and both
depend upon absolute freedom.
5 i	No person can point to the first act of his consciousness, because every
moment [of consciousness] is a movement of transition from indetermi¬
nacy to determinacy, and thus every moment always presupposes an¬
other one.22
{Accordingly, this act of freedom lies originally at the foundation of
everything that exists. All that exists does so by means of this act. But if
this is so, then why are we only now calling attention to this origin?
Should this not have been presented in § l?
Reply: As finite intellects we are able to think only discursively; and
therefore, in order to describe and to intuit this act of freedom, we had
to employ the help of something determinable. We could make our im¬
mediate consciousness into an object only indirectly—i.e., by means of
determinacy—and therefore we had to discuss this first.}
20	“reales Selbstanfangen.”
E No ideal self-positing apart from a real act of affecting or limiting oneself (p. 46).
21	The translation here represents a rather free rendering of the German text, a more
literal version of which would be: “Thus, whether we go forward or backward, we are al¬
ways speaking of the same thing, though we view it in two different ways, and the axis
around which everything turns is the act of freedom. The act of freedom, however, is itself
impossible if there is nothing on the right (determinability, immediate consciousness) and
nothing on the left (what is supposed to be produced, the intuited I).” Radrizzani plausibly
suggests that Fichte, in this passage, was referring to a diagram drawn on the black¬
board—which would explain the otherwise puzzling references to “left,” “right,” “forward,”
and “backward.”
22	See Fichte’s announcement of this conclusion in his letter to Rein hold of July 2, 1795:
“The surprising result is now revealed [...]: namely, that there is no A that is absorbed
into consciousness first, nor can there be. Instead, however high one ascends, something
higher is always presupposed. For example, every intuition is necessarily posited in the
present point in time; but there is no present point in time without a past one. Hence there
is also no present intuition without a past intuition to which it is joined, and there is no first
moment, no beginning of consciousness.”

146	§3
What is actually first, realiter, is freedom. But freedom cannot come
first in the order of thinking, and that is why we had to begin with the
investigations undertaken so far, which lead us to [an investigation of]
freedom.
§3
One will find that this movement of transition [from what is deter¬
minable to what is determinate]23 (§ 2) possesses its foundation utterly
within itself.24 The action involved in this transition is therefore called
“real activity” and is opposed to that ideal activity which merely copies
the former, and the overall {activity of the} I is thereby divided into these
two types of activity. In accordance with the principle of determinability,
no real activity can be posited without also positing a real or practical
power. Real and ideal activity mutually condition and determine each
other. Neither is possible without the other, nor can one comprehend
what either of them is without also comprehending the other. In this act
of freedom, the I itself becomes an object for itself. An actual conscious¬
ness comes into being, and from now on anything that is to be an object
of consciousness at all must be connected to this starting point. Freedom
is therefore the ultimate ground and the first condition of all being and
of all consciousness.
23	These bracketed words appear in the copy of this paragraph which Krause included
in the summary of the “Major Points of the Wissenschaftslehre of 1798/99,” with which the
manuscript of K commences.
24	The otherwise nearly identical, alternate version of the summary paragraph for § 3
begins somewhat differently: “This movement of transition, as such, is intuited as possess¬
ing its foundation utterly within itself” (K, p. 46).

51
§ 4
Through absolute freedom, which has just been described, I deter¬
mine myself to become “something.”1 I engage in an act of positing, and
in this condition of determinacy I have a concept. Acting is always2
guided by some concept; thus I act freely whenever I spontaneously con¬
struct for myself a concept. Our present task, however, is to obtain a
clear understanding of the foundations [of this process].
52	(1) In the previous § the act of mere self-affection was construed as real
activity.3 This activity was then intuited and was seen to include the
proper act of the real activity. The ideal activity is now supposed to wit¬
ness the I engaged in this act of self-affection; but, at least according to
what we know about it so far, it is unable to do this. The real activity of
the I could be viewed only as a movement of transition from determin-
ability to determinacy—i.e., [what is observed is] not an act of pure self¬
affection, but determinability and determinacy, and both at the same
time. What is determinate allows itself to be cognized only as follows: it
is not what is determinable.4
What is determinate must be intuitable; for only if it is intuitable is
freedom possible, and freedom is the condition for the possibility of
consciousness.
{Absolute freedom—self-determination, practical power—must be (47)
intuitable; for, as real activity (i.e., as practical power in action), it must
produce something real—a “something,” a “being”—and, therefore,
1	“bestimme ich mich zu etwas.” That is, I determine myself in a certain way.
2	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “immer” for K’s “nur.”
3	“reale Thätigkeit.”
4	“Das Bestimmte läßt sich nur so erkennen, daß es das Bestimmbare nicht ist.” The
translation of this obscure sentence—indeed, of this entire paragraph—is conjectural. As
Radrizzani remarks, the attention of the student transcribing Fichte’s lecture appears to
have wandered somewhat at this point.
[ 147 ]

148	§4
something intuitable. In the following § we will examine what this “some¬
thing” might be. For the time being, let us call it “X.” I affect myself; I
take hold of myself; I wrench myself away from a state of indeterminacy
and transform myself into something determinate = X: I am really ac¬
tive precisely thereby, and it is through this product = X that the real
activity can itself be intuited.}
The ideal activity is, by its very character, however, constrained and
arrested and can occur only subsequently to a real activity. Something
must be posited in opposition to this ideal activity, something that brings
it to a halt; this is something real,5 and, to this extent, something deter¬
mined as such.A (This is not yet the place to explain how what is deter¬
minate becomes “something.”) Let us call this “something” “X,” which
designates a being, which the ideal activity merely copies, something
that annihilates true activity. {Nevertheless, this ideal activity is neces¬
sary; for without it, I would not be conscious of the acting of the real
activity. The ideal activity is the subject; the real activity is the object. But
both acts have their foundation in a single subject, the I; indeed, the
identity and the essential character of the I consists precisely therein:
namely, in the fact that it can be, for itself, subject and object at the same
time, that it posits itself.)
It will become apparent that this being [which is copied by the ideal
activity] has to be taken in some sense other than as what cancels real
activity. Thus we obtain two different senses of “being,” and the sort of
being with which we are here concerned will turn out to be the sort of
being possessed by the concept of a goal.
{This operation of the practical power, by means of which what is es¬
tablished becomes an I,6 7 presupposes the concept of a goal, which the
practical power must construct for itself before it can engage in real ac¬
tivity. The subject of the practical power is thereby transformed into a (48)
power to form concepts.1}
(2)	This X is itself a product of absolute freedom. That is to say, spon¬
taneous self-activity must contain within itself the ground that explains
why, on the one hand, there is anything at all that exists with this connec¬
tion to consciousness, and why, on the other, what exists is precisely “X”
and is not “—X.”
5	“eine REELLES.”
AIn observing the acting of my real activity, the ideal activity is purely passive; it is thus
constrained and fixed, and it vanishes into this observation, that is, into its object (p. 47).
6	“wodurch das begründete zum Ich wird.” Note that the corresponding passage in K
replaces das begründete (“what is established”) with das begründende (“the grounding sub¬
ject”), which seems to make better sense in this context.
7	“zu einem Vermögen der Begriffe.”

§4	149
(The term “ground” must here be explained only to the extent that
its meaning becomes clear. Later on, the meaning of this term will be
deduced.)
The ideal activity is constrained in two ways: first of all, by the fact that
any X at all exists for it,8 and second, by the fact that this X is determined
in a specific way. To this extent, the ideal activity is passive.9 [Thus]
something else needs be thought of in addition [to the ideal activity and
X]: something that constrains or binds the ideal activity and, specifically,
binds it to X. This is not X itself, but is freedom. It is freedom that has
produced X itself; this means that freedom contains within itself the
ground of X. Why is it then that, in this case, the grounding subject10 is
posited as an I? It is the ideally active [power]11 that engages in this act
of positing and that posits the practical [power] as itself. The ideally ac¬
tive [power] must operate in this way because it is acquainted only with
what lies within itself. Since it is engaged in forming images, it must posit
the practical [power] as similarly engaged. It, as it were, “projects” an
image-forming activity into the practical [power], and it is by means of
this image [thereby attributed to the practical power] that the ideal dis¬
covers itself in the latter.12 This attribution of intuition [to the practical
power] is the point that unites them.13 The practical [power], however,
insofar as it is freely able to initiate action, is not engaged in any activity
of mere copying. Consequently, the image formed of the practical
[power] is not a copy; it is a préfiguration or model.14
{To prove this, one need only examine the meaning of freedom. “I act
freely”: that is to say, “I spontaneously construct for myself a concept of my
8	Although Krause’s MS reads “daß sie für ein X da ist,” the translation here follows the
published text of K (“daß für sie ein X da ist”), which seems to make more sense in this
context.
9	“leidend.” I.e., it is affected by something else.
10	“das Begründende.” I.e. the freely active subject, here considered as providing the
“ground” or “foundation” for the constraint (and hence for the determinacy) of the ideal
activity.
11	“das ideale ist [es].” Throughout this entire paragraph, Fichte refers repeatedly to
“das ideale,” “das praktische,” and “es,” without ever specifying precisely how these terms
are to be taken. Though das ideale might here refer to the I itself (das Ich), i.e., to the
“ideal I,” the corresponding passage in H clearly suggests that the reference is to the “ideal”
(and “practical”) power (das Vermögen) of the I, a reading that is confirmed by the dictât to
§ 4 in H.
*2 “Es ist bildend, es muß das praktische sonach auch sezen als bildend. Es sieht gleich¬
sam ein Bilden in das praktische hinein, und dieß Bild ists, wodurch das praktische dem
idealen zu sich selbst wird.”
13	Reading “sie” for K’s “es.”
14	“Nun aber ist das praktische als frei anfangend kein nachbilden, jenes Bild des prak¬
tischen ist daher kein Nachbild sondern ein Vorbild.” Though the term Vorbild is usually
translated here as “model,” this translation obscures the connection among Bild (“image”),
Nachbild (“copy”), and Vorbild. The last-named designates an image that is not copied from
some previously existing reality, but instead precedes it.

150	§4
action.” Therefore, the concept of a goal must always underlie every free
action. The product (= some X) is what I am supposed to achieve by
means of my own free action. My I, considered as the subject of my prac¬
tical power (i.e., as forming an image of itself and developing itself
accordingly,15 as self-initiating, and as consciously acting), must there¬
fore always construct for itself in advance the concept of this goal. It re¬
quires, as it were, a “model,”16 the realization of which is the goal of the
real activity.}
The intuiting subject is constrained by its very nature; i.e., it can act
only in consequence of something else. The subject that acts realiter
is absolutely free; it cannot be a consequence of anything else, but
must, with absolute freedom, construct a concept for itself, and such a
concept is “the concept of a goal”17 or “an ideal.” One does not claim
that anything corresponds to such a concept; instead, one claims that
something should be produced in consequence of it. The only way we
can think of an instance of free acting at all is to think of it in this
way, that is, as an acting that occurs in consequence of a [freely] con¬
structed concept of acting; and when we think of it in this manner, we
ascribe intelligence to the practical power. Freedom cannot be thought
of apart from intelligence; freedom cannot exist without consciousness.8
To deny consciousness is to deny freedom, and similarly, to ascribe
consciousness is to ascribe freedom. The ground of one’s ability to act
freely lies within consciousness. (For without consciousness no sponta¬
neous movement of transition to an opposed condition is possible. Ab¬
solute spontaneity or freedom is present only in such a movement, which
simultaneously—and consciously—serves as the foundation for one be¬
ing and, at the same time, as the foundation for another.
In nature we also find movements of transition from one state to an¬
other, opposed state: e.g., a tree in winter and in spring. But such tran¬
sitions are necessary and have their foundation in the laws of nature;
they occur without consciousness and therefore without freedom.
Thus consciousness contains within itself the reason why we are able
to think of freedom. No acts of self-affecting are to be found among the
operations of external nature—which includes nothing that interacts
with itself in order to become its own opposite, no self-reverting activity,
no self-determination. Why then does this occur within the I?}
The I determines itself. The little word “self’ refers to “the I.” The I
determines itself; in determining itself it already possesses an awareness
15	“als selbst bildenden.”
16	“ein Vorbild.”
17	“ein Zwekbegriff.”
B Without intellect—i.e., without something that has a concept, a consciousness, of its
own activity—there is therefore no freedom (p. 48).

§4	151
of itself. Anything that is to determine itself must possess an awareness
of itself, and what possesses an awareness of itself is an intellect.18
The I is aware of its own existence. Here the I appears as something
double—and indivisibly so. Such indivisible duality, however, is precisely
what constitutes subject-objectivity, or consciousness. Consciousness
alone originally possesses synthetic unity. Everything else is synthetically
unified only {through it}.c A self-determining being exists for itself, and
therefore we ascribe freedom to the intellect.
{Therefore, “I determine myself ’ means the same thing as “I am, for
myself or in relation to myself, an intellect [aware of] of my pract¬
ical power.”
Conversely, it also means the same as “no consciousness or ideal ac¬
tivity or intellect can be thought of apart from freedom or real activity.”}
Intelligence cannot be separated from the practical [power], but the
intellect too must be practical. There can be no consciousness without
real freedom. The unity of intellect and practical power is a necessary
unity. Consciousness (see § 1) is an act of positing itself idealiter}9 The
term “ideal” simply refers to “an act of positing.” All positing is self-
positing; all positing begins with and is mediated through self-positing.
The I, as described by previous philosophers, is a mirror. But a mirror
does not see, and this is why these philosophers are unable to explain
“seeing” or intuition. All they posit is the concept of mirroring. {This
remark reveals the basis of all the errors of other philosophical sys- (49)
terns—the Kantian system included.} This error can be rectified only
by means of a correct concept of the I. The I of the Wissenschaftslehre is
not a mirror; it is an eye. (We can always find some external image to
illustrate everything that occurs within our mind.) A person who is un¬
acquainted with the I also lacks knowledge of what an eye is. The tradi¬
tional view makes it impossible to understand how the eye is able to see
anything at all. The eye, however, is a self-mirroring mirror.20 It is the
18	“das sich bestimmen soll, muß sich selbst haben, and was sich selbst hat, ist eine In¬
telligenz.” To make sense of this sentence, one must insert the word was between das and
sich. The verb translated here as “to be aware of its own existence” (sich haben) might be
more literally rendered as “to possess itself.”
c One need only analyze what is involved in saying “the I determines itself’: In this
phrase the I is doubled. It appears as “I” and as “itself.” Only what is aware of its own existence
can be “for itself.” And whatever is aware of its own existence also possesses consciousness;
it is an intellect. I (the determining subject) determine myself (the I); thus I determine I.
These two aspects are therefore indivisibly linked: the I is subject-objectivity, or conscious¬
ness. This unity is synthetic; everything else is unified only through it (p. 48).
19	“Die Vereinigung zwischen Intelligenz und praktischem Vermögen ist nothwendiges
Bewustsein (§ 1) ist ein sich selbst idealiter sezen.” This sentence requires some additional
punctuation. Fuchs and Radrizzani both insert a period after Bemustern. The translation,
however, guided by the corresponding passage in H, puts the period after notwendiges (and
also alters its ending, so that it can modify die Vereinigung).
20	“In der gewöhnlichen Ansicht soll das Auge nicht sehen, etwas d[ur]ch das Auge ist
ein sich selbst abspiegelnder Spiegel.” This sentence demands some emendation. The

152	§4
very essence of the eye to be an image for itself, and to be an image for
itself is also the essence of the intellect. By means of its own seeing, the
eye itself—like the intellect itself—becomes an image for itself. An im¬
age is reflected in a mirror, but the mirror cannot see the image. The
intellect, in contrast, becomes an image for itself. What is in the intellect
is an image and nothing else. But an image refers to an object: wherever
there is an image, there must also be something that is portrayed [by this
image].21 {An image is something that is only subjective. The ideal ac¬
tivity therefore requires an object, something that it copies; and this is
the real activity.} The ideal activity has also been described, therefore, as
an act of imitating or copying. Whenever a consciousness is assumed, an
object of consciousness is also assumed. This object can be nothing but
the acting of the I,D for the acting of the I is the sole, immediately
intuitable object of consciousness; everything else is intuited only indi¬
rectly.22 Everything we see, we see within ourselves. We see only our¬
selves, and we see ourselves only as acting, only as passing from what is
determinable to what is determinate.
The I is neither the intellect nor the practical power; instead, it is both
at once. {The I becomes a real I by acting and observing its own acting,
thereby providing the practical power itself with a basis for intuition;
that is, the I becomes a real I insofar as it is simultaneously subject and
object and simultaneously possesses both ideal and real power.} If we
want to grasp the I, we have to grasp both of these; separated from each
other, they are nothing at all.
{That to which self-activity determines itself—the freely constructed
concept of its goal—is thus a “something” = X. Otherwise it would not
be possible to intuit the self-determination.}
Everything is thus included within the practical I—practical activity23
as well as intuition. We now have a real I and a mere Idea [that is, the
concept of a goal]. We must begin with what is real, and thus from now
on we will be observing the actual acting of an actual I. This is an actual
fact: the I determines itself by means of its concept. Both practical power
and intelligence are to be ascribed to the I.
translation inserts a period after etwas and simply ignores the next word (the reading of
which is only conjectural anyway, as Fuchs notes).
21	“wo ein Bild ist, muß etwas sein das abgebildet wird.”
D Thus the opposite inference is also correct: There can be no ideality of reality, no ideal
activity (consciousness or intellect) apart from practical power or real activity; for the im¬
mediate object of the intellect (or ideal activity) is the acting of the I, namely, the move¬
ment of transition from determinability, etc. This mode of acting, however, is a product of
the practical power; that is, it is a real activity (p. 49).
22	“alles Handeln des Ich ist nur unmittelbar anschaubar, alles übrige nur mittelbar.”
The meaning of this sentence is clarified by the parallel passage in H: “Nur dieses is un¬
mittelbar anschaubar,” etc.
23	“Praxis.”

§4	153
§4
Free self-determination is intuitable only as a determination to be¬
come “something,” of which the self-determining or practical {power} (47)
must possess a {freely constructed} concept. A concept of this sort is
called “the concept of a goal.” Consequently, for the intuiting subject,
the same subject who possesses practical power must also possess the
power to form concepts, just as, conversely, the comprehending subject,
or {the power of} intellect, must necessarily be practical.24 Practical
power and intelligence are inseparable. Neither can be thought of apart
from the other. The {true} character of the I thus lies in this identity.
24 “Sonach werde dem Anschauenden das Subject des praktischen] Verm[ögens] zu¬
gleich zu einem Vermögen der Begriffe, so wie umgekehrt das Subject des Begriffs oder
die Intelligenz nothwendig praktisch sein muß.”

55
§ 5
Anything that can be intuited is “something.” “Something” and intu¬
ition are reciprocal concepts.A What spontaneous self-activity deter¬
mines itself to become is “something.” What kind of “something” is this?
This will be the object of our present investigation.
(1)	Up to this point in our inquiry we have been reflecting upon a par¬
ticular state of the intellect, {namely, upon an intuition of the movement (49)
of transition from determinability to determinacy}. Determinability,
movement, and determinacy: all these were contained within this simple
fact.1 But how does it happen that what is determinable and what is de¬
terminate are intuitable? Such a question could not even be raised
within the context of that state of mind with which we were previously
concerned; there they were simply intuitable. When I now ask about the
possibility of this fact, I thereby go beyond it; I raise myself above it and
make what was previously an act of reflection into the object of a new
reflection. {Thus this intuition provides us with the object of a new
reflection.}
At this point, certain questions still remain open: for example, the
question concerning how it is possible to raise oneself above the first act
of reflection will remain open. Here we will freely execute this [second,
higher-order] act of reflection,8 and if this provides us with [further in-
A “Something” designates whatever can be related to an intuition—what is intuitable
(P- 49)-
1	This represents a somewhat free rendering of the text of K, which is defective at this
point and contains several short illegible words (“Es [. . . ] war Bestimmbarkeit, Uiberge-
hen und Bestimmtheit, diefJ lag im einfachten Factum”). Presumably, the “simple fact” in
question is the state of the intellect upon which we have been reflecting = the intuition of
the movement from determinability to determinacy.
B We will leave unanswered the question of whether this apparently free operation may
not also be at the same time necessary—as it may well prove to be in what follows. Here
again, in the meantime, a gap will remain (pp. 49—50).
[ >54]

§5	155
formation concerning] the necessary conditions for consciousness, then
we will have obtained a great deal. But how are we able to do this? Even-
56 tually, we will have to establish the foundation of the act of reflection we
are now going to describe, for otherwise our act of understanding would
be of no use. Here we will proceed just as we did above {in § 1 and § 2},
where we began with a description of original consciousness as an ideal
act of self-positing. We then posited the I in this state of self-positing;
and though it seemed that all this occurred with complete freedom, we
showed that these actions had to occur if an I was to be possible at all.
(2)	The question now is, How can something that is generated through
absolute spontaneity nevertheless become intuitable? That is to say,
what is it really?
We saw above that the question “what?” always signals an opposition.
When I ask “what is X?” I have in mind a sphere containing a manifold,
any one of the elements of which might be X. I want to know which of
these is X, and thus [before we can answer our present question] we first
have to know what is supposed to be posited in opposition to what is pro¬
duced through self-determination.
Determinability and determinacy are related to the ideal activity,
which is constrained, and thus is not a deed,2 but is instead a state of the
I. Consequently, what is intuited in this case can be characterized as
something that restrains [the ideal activity] or brings it to a halt3 and can
be related to the intuition. Perhaps it will turn out to be the case that
everything intuitable is something restraining, because ideal activity is
the sort of activity which can occur only as a result of something else.
The sole thing to which ideal activity is immediately related is real ac¬
tivity. Consequently, whatever it might be that restrains ideal activity, the
ideal activity can surely be related to it only indirectly. Accordingly, if the
ideal activity is to be explained, then the practical activity has to be con¬
strained; therefore, all limitation that appears within consciousness must
spring from the practical activity. Thus, in order to explain the con¬
strained state of the ideal activity, we have to examine the real activity.0
2	“ist nicht That.” As Fuchs notes, this might also be an abbreviation for Thatigkeit, (“ac¬
tivity”).
3	“sonach ist der Cha[rak]ter des hier angeschauten ein haltendes.”
c What is determinable is referred to the ideal activity, though this occurs indirectly and by
means of real activity (for the ideal activity is directly and immediately directed at the real
activity, and by means of this it is also directed at what is determinable, that is, at the
sphere of real activity). Ideal activity is therefore constrained or halted as such by what is
determinable; thus, this activity is not a deed, but is merely a state of the I. Hence what is
determinable is what stands in opposition to the product of the ideal activity. What is de¬
terminable is what brings the intuition of the ideal activity to a halt or restrains it, and ideal ac¬
tivity is what is restrained or halted thereby. Ideal activity is fixed, brought to a halt, and
constrained by the acting of the real activity within the sphere of what is determinable;

156	§5
(A)	As was previously shown,4 the practical I constructs for itself a
concept of its own activity, and such a concept is called “the concept of
a goal.”5
The {real} activity of the I is a passage from pure determinability to (50)
determinacy. The latter is wrenched out of the total sum of the former,
57 and this part that is wrenched out is the part that is comprehended or
grasped through a concept.6
“The I determines itself”: this means that it makes a selection or
choice from what is determinable, and this choice is guided by the con¬
cept; and to this extent, the I (considered as an intellect) was not free.
Let us think of what is determinable as “something.” This is an ap¬
propriate predicate, since what is determinable is intuitable. Absolute
freedom makes its selection from this “something” lying within the
sphere of the determinable. It cannot be constrained in making this
choice, for then it would not be freedom. It can go on like this end¬
lessly—choosing more or less [of this “something”]. No part is pre¬
scribed to absolute freedom as the last. This infinite divisibility will have
many consequences (concerning space, time, and things). Everything
[within this sphere] is infinitely divisible, because it is a sphere for our
freedom.0
The practical activity is not constrained in making its selection, for
then it would cease to be freedom; it is constrained in this sense, however:
i.e., in that it has to make its selection exclusively from what is deter¬
minable. What is determinable does not appear as something that has
been produced, either by ideal or by real activity; instead, it appears to
be something given for our selection. To say that it is “given” does not
mean that it is given to the I as such or in its totality, but rather that it is
given to the choosing, practical I. We have seen above7 that what is de¬
consequently, the ideal activity is related to this sphere purely passively—as a product, a
mere observing, an intuition—not as something real.
But this intuition would not occur if there were not something to bring the intuition to
a halt, i.e., a sphere within which the real activity could show itself to be effectively active;
and this sphere, this “something” that restrains intuition, is what is determinable.
But precisely because the general character of what is determinable is to be something
that fixes the ideal activity and brings it to a halt, it is intuitable—i.e., it is “something.” A
“something,” therefore, is what stands opposed to the ideal activity, what brings it to a halt
and constrains it (p. 50).
4	See sect. 2 of § 4.
5	“welcher der Zweckbegriff heißt.”
6	“der herausgerißne Theil is der der begriffen wird.”
D What is determinable is therefore infinitely divisible. It is a sphere that contains a mani¬
fold and cannot be simple, precisely because a selection is supposed to be made from it;
and, since this selection is supposed to occur with absolute freedom, this manifold must be
infinite. If what is determinable were to contain even a single part that could not be fur¬
ther separated or divided, then there would be no absolute freedom. [The character of]
what is determinable is therefore entirely and unconditionally dependent upon freedom
(pp. 50-51).
' See sect. 1 of § 2.

§5	157
terminable arises from the laws of ideal activity. Thus one could say that
it is given by virtue of the nature of reason.E
Freedom consists in this: that one can choose from among everything.
Constraint consists in this: that the selection must be made from this to¬
tal sum. Here we obtain the concept of a determinate sum from which
freedom makes its selection. A part of this total sum is called a “deter¬
minate activity” or an “action.”9
Remark: (1) We here obtain [the concept of] the total sum of what is
determinable. We obtain this by reflecting upon our previous act of re¬
flection, which is now construed as a determinate state of mind; but ev¬
erything that is included therein thereby constitutes a complete whole.
In § 1 there was no mention of the totality of what is determinable; nor
could there have been, since the intuiting subject there lost itself in the
sphere of what is determinable.
58	(2) We have here obtained the concept of an action. The act of self¬
affection (as described in § 3) was possible in only one way. But now that
this act is posited as a passage from determinability to determinacy, it
must be possible for this act to occur in a variety of different ways. Self¬
affection is an act that has an impact upon itself,10 and if any diversity is
present therein, then something must be posited in consequence of this.
Self-determination is supposed to be posited as something manifold;
consequently, something has to be posited by means of which it appears
as a manifold, and this is acting.F
(B)	Let us call the action that is selected “X.” X is a part of the total
sum just discussed, and thus the predicate that applies to this total
sum must apply to X as well: action X must be infinitely divisible. But,
as always, this chosen part X is characterizable and intuitable only inso¬
far as it is something determinate. X must thus be opposed to what is
E But what is determinable is, by virtue of the nature of reason, given to freedom;
therefore, freedom,8 which is thereby dependent only upon itself, constructs for itself the
concept of its own mode of action, and is thus free (p. 51).
8	“sie.” Though it is here construed as referring to “freedom” {die Freiheit), this pronoun
could also refer to “reason” {die Vernunft).
9	“eine bestimmte Thätigkeit oder eine Handlung.”
10	“Die Selbstaffection ist Stoß auf sich selbst.”
F Remark: (a) Where do we obtain this concept of a total sum? In reflecting upon our
previous act of reflection, we construed it as a completed11 state of our mind, and thereby
the preceding determinability and determinacy became complete for us as well—became
a totality for us. This does not mean [that we construe this state as] something (absolutely)
infinite, as if I could determine myself in only one way; instead, it means that what must
occur as a consequence of this act of self-affection, i.e., acting, is infinitely manifold and is
possible in an infinite number of ways.
(ß) For heaven’s sake, one certainly should not think of what is infinitely divisible as any
sort of matter, space, etc.!
(Y) The great advantage of placing absolute freedom at the apex of theoretical philos¬
ophy as well [as at the apex of practical philosophy] is now evident (p. 51).
11	“vollendeten.” That is to say, it was construed as a self-contained or “complete” state
of consciousness, one that was not dependent upon any other state; and thus, in this sense,
it could be called a “totality.”

158	§5
determinable, for only on this condition is everything that has been re¬
quired up to this point possible.12
{The action of the I is the whole, and this is infinitely divisible. X is a (51)
part of this whole; it is what is determinate and is intuitable as such, in
opposition to what is determinable. What is determinate is thus distin¬
guished from what is determinable in that the whole (= what is deter¬
minable) is intuitable only on the condition that what is determinate is
intuitable. What they have in common must thus be that both are divisible.
Therefore, if what is determinate (= what is intuitable) is divisible, then
it is also “something.”}
What now is the overall character of what is determinate? What dis¬
tinguishes it from what is determinable? The real activity determines it¬
self to act, and this real activity cannot be intuited: it is not “something”;
it is not divisible; it is absolutely simple. {Only acting can be intuited; what (52)
is determinable cannot be intuited.} Accordingly, that to which the I de¬
termines itself when it affects itself—i.e., acting—must be intuitable.
This, however, is not possible unless freedom is constrained in the course
of the acting of the practical activity. Yet this freedom must not simply
be canceled; it must be and must remain an activity, and thus it must be
simultaneously constrained and not constrained; both must occur.G
An instance of acting,13 therefore, would be something within which
the real activity would be both constrained and not constrained. What is
constrained in this case is the real activity itself, and this passivity on its
part indicates the presence of something that arrests its activity and
brings it to a halt. Intuition becomes14 possible only insofar as freedom
is arrested.
Let us call this action “X.” This X must be intuitable; but since acting
is freely determinable, it possesses infinite divisibility,15 and therefore X
can be divided into [parts] A and B, each of which can be further di-
12	This conclusion follows from the aforementioned “principle of determinability”:
something (in this case, the determinate state or action of the I) can be “determined”
or “specified” only by being “opposed” or “posited in opposition” to something else—that
is, it can be defined only with reference to its “opposite” (in this case, to “what is deter¬
minable”).
G Acting (or the movement of transition [from what is determinable] to what is deter¬
minate, to “something”) cannot be intuited unless freedom is constrained. But this does not
mean that freedom is thereby canceled, nor does it mean that (like the ideal activity) it [the
real activity] will turn out to be nothing more than an act of imitating something else. In¬
stead, in order for the real activity to be an object of the ideal activity, i.e., in order for the
acting of freedom to be intuited, it must limit itself to some portion of the whole. But this
constrained freedom must also still remain an activity (pp. 51-52).
13	“ein Handeln.”
14	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “wird” for K’s “ist.”
15	The translation here follows Radrizzani’s proposed emendation and substitutes Teil-
barkeit for K’s Bestimmbarkeit (“determinability”). This substitution not only makes more
sense in the context, but is supported by the parallel passage in H and by the summary
paragraph at the end of this § of K.

§5	159
vided, and so on, ad infinitum. Even if one were to continue this process
of division forever, one would never encounter a single point that would
59 not contain both activity and a hindrance to activity. This is what consti¬
tutes continuity,16 a continuous line of acting; and whatever progresses
in a continuous line is called “acting.”H (We are not yet concerned with
time.)1
Freedom is absolute self-affection and nothing more; but freedom is
not something manifold, and therefore it cannot be intuited. A product
of freedom is here supposed to be intuitable, however, and thus, in this
manner, freedom itself is supposed to be indirectly intuitable. This can
occur only if several different acts of self-affection are posited, and these
various acts of self-affection would be distinguished from each other
only by the multiple forms of resistance posited in opposition to them.
But a resistance is nothing apart from an activity; and to the extent that
a resistance is overcome, it is absorbed into the 1.18 The I can see nothing
but itself, but it can see itself only insofar as it is engaged in acting. But
when the I acts it is free; i.e., it is engaged in overcoming resistance.-1
16	“Stetigkeit.”
H Constraining17 is a real arresting of activity, and thereby we obtain an intuition of what
is constrained (B), that is, of freedom, as well as an intuition of what constrains it (A).
(A) What constrains (= X) must be something intuitable, since, as an action, it is surely
a part of what is determinable. It is a quantum, a manifold, and must, like the totality of
which it is a part, be infinitely divisible. That is to say, I can divide part X into A and B, A
into C and D, C into E and F, etc. When I proceed in this way I am, to be sure, self-active,
but my self-activity is restricted by A and B, and then by C and D, etc. I always proceed
from one point to the next. Each of these points arrests my self-activity somewhat and hin¬
ders it in its forward progress, but none of them halts it once and for all and in its entirety;
instead, my self-activity overcomes the resistance of A, and then moves on to B, etc. Thus
there is no point within X which does not include both activity and hindrance—i.e., in
which constrained and unconstrained freedom are not simultaneously present. Every pos¬
sible point contains both. Acting is thus what progresses in a continuous line—continuity (p. 52).
17	“Das Binden.”
1 In discussing this forward motion, one should abstract from any concept of time, for
the latter arises only as a result of connecting several different points, one after another,
to form a series. But no particular points are present in the case of a continuous line; in¬
stead, such a line is the schema of the contents of time. Continuous activity does not progress
in fits and starts, that is, in a series of individual surges, through which the activity is, as
it were, repeated and carried forward; instead, such activity continues without any inter¬
ruption (p. 53).
18	“kommt er ins Ich.” More freely: “the I becomes aware of it.”
J (B) Freedom is supposed to be posited, i.e., intuited. But it cannot be intuited; for, as
an act of self-affection, it is not a quantum, not a manifold. I can affect myself in only one
way. Thus it must be intuitable as an action indirectly, through its product. This can occur
only on the condition that several acts of self-affection are posited, but these various acts
can be distinguished from one another only through the resistance that freedom over¬
comes; consequently, the I becomes free19 only if some resistance is posited in opposition
to freedom and only if freedom overcomes this resistance. Only in acting does the I see
itself. Freedom becomes intuitable by the I through acting, since it is only by overcoming
resistance that acting is free—and only in this way do we become conscious of our own free¬
dom (p. 52).
19	“kommt diese ins Ich.”

l6o §5
■	Freedom extends its influence continuously, while resistance contin¬
uously gives way before it20—granted that some resistance must always
remain. (The forward thrust of a movable body in space provides us with
an image of this.) Every moment includes both resistance and acting.
This acting does not proceed in fits and starts, but continues as a single,
constant motion.21 It remains one and the same act of self-affection,
which extends itself further and further by means of intuition. When
the act of self-affection is intuited, the simple point of self-affection is
extended to a line.K
■	In following this line, we obtain a sequence of determinate parts.
The reason these are “parts” and are construed as such is to be found in
the act of reflection, i.e., in the fact that A, B, C, D, etc., were posited in
this line, {for the act of dividing depends upon reflection}. But the rea- (53)
son they were grasped in this particular order and not in the reverse
order is not to be found in the act of reflection, for this can occur only
as a consequence of an act of the subject that acts realiter. Nor is the rea¬
son to be found within the real activity, for this multiplicity is precisely
what hinders and opposes the real activity. Thus the real activity is con¬
strained in relation to this sequence, and this is what distinguishes what
is determinable from what is determinate.
■	In constructing a concept of its own efficacy,22 the practical I (which
is the sole23 basis of our explanation) appears to be free in regard to the
60 ordering of the manifold: this constitutes the freedom of the choice. But
once this concept has been constructed and has been employed to guide
acting, then the sequence [of determinate parts of the manifold] no
longer depends upon the practical I, which is itself now constrained in
relation to this sequence. In the first case (that is, while the concept is
still being constructed), the intuition—which is constrained by its very
nature—is set into motion by the practical I and oscillates between op¬
posites, between being and not-being. In the second case (that is, when
acting is occurring), the intuiting subject is constrained by the fact that
the practical I is itself constrained, and thus it is itself constrained as
well. The determinacy of the intellect has its foundation in the deter-
20	“die Freiheit wirkt ununterbrochen fort; der Widerstand giebt ununterbrochen
nach.”
21	Reading, with H, “ruckweise” for K’s “rückwärts” (“backward”): “Dieses Handeln geht
nicht [ruckweise] sondern in einem fort.”
K This acting of the real activity is “continuity”: i.e., self-affection proceeds from only a
single point; it encounters resistance, which then gives way. Freedom always proceeds for¬
ward without interruption, although it is always accompanied by some resistance—which
it constantly overcomes. The whole is therefore a constant progression of acting, always
one and the same act of self-affection, which is extended by intuition into a continuous line
(pp 52-53).
22	“Würksamkeit.”
23	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “all<ein> for K’s “alle<s>.”

§ 5 l6l
minacy of the practical I. In the first case, {that is, so long as the prac-
tical power is still engaged in choosing,} we are concerned with the
concept of a merely possible action; in the second case, {that is, to the
extent that the practical power is constrained and the sequence is
determined,} we are concerned with the concept of an actual action. The
question “What is X?” has now been answered. X is an actual action, in
opposition to one that is merely possible.
Corollaries:
(1)	These concepts {of possibility and actuality} are particular deter¬
minations of the intellect in relation to the practical power that must
necessarily be thought of in connection with the intellect. When the
practical power is posited as itself engaged in creating concepts {of a (54)
goal, and hence, as free}, then the intellect itself is free as well, and from
this there arises the concept of “the possible.” When the practical power
is posited as actually acting, then it is constrained in relation to the se¬
quence of the manifold, and the intellect is constrained along with it,
{and thus there arises the concept of “the actual”}.
(2)	Everything actual and possible is actual and possible only in rela¬
tion to the action of the I, for we have derived these concepts of actuality
and possibility from the intuition of acting. All intuition—and thereby
all consciousness—is conditioned by the intuition of what is actual.
Consciousness—or intuition—of what is actual is called “experience”;
therefore, all thinking begins with experience and is conditioned
thereby. Only through experience do we become something for our¬
selves; subsequently, we can abstract from experience.
Intuition of what is actual is possible only through an intuition of an
actual instance of acting on the part of the I; therefore, all experience
begins with acting, and only thereby is experience possible at all.24 If
there is no acting, then there is no experience; and if there is no expe¬
rience, then neither is there any consciousness.
61	How are objects, which are supposed to be external to us, simulta¬
neously supposed to be within us? The Wissenschaftslehre answers this
LThe practical I or real activity appears as free only while it is—through acting,
through ordering [the manifold]—busy constructing a concept of its goal, which pertains
to the sphere of what is determinable. The practical activity, in cooperation with the in¬
tellect, arranges those parts it wishes to remove from the sphere of what is determinable,
and [while it is engaged in doing this it] oscillates between being and not-being. But once
it has affected itself, the sequence of acting is then determined for it in the concept of the
manifold: things must now proceed in a certain order. The practical activity is then con¬
strained to a fixed series of parts—and the intuition of the intellect is similarly constrained
along with it (p. 53).
24	“also alle Erfahrung geht aus vom Handeln, es ist nur durch sie möglich.” The pro¬
noun es in this sentence appears to have no antecedent. The parallel passage in H suggests
that the reference might equally well be consciousness (das Bewußtsein) or the I (das Ich).
Another possibility, adopted in the translation, is to transpose the two pronouns (“sie ist
nur durch es möglich”).

l62	§5
question as follows: This occurs when we connect what is supposed to
be external to us with the immediate object of our consciousness, that
is, with everything that is active and free within us. I can be conscious
only of my own activity, but I can be conscious of this only as a limited
activity.M
{This prevents a world of errors and at the same time exposes the na¬
kedness of all previous philosophical systems. Even the Kantian system
merely enumerates the logical laws governing our thought of objects
(the categories);25 but in doing this, it always leaves unanswered the
question, “Why should we and why must we posit any objects at all?”
The Wissenschaftslehre is now able to answer this question: [We posit
objects] precisely because we have posited an absolute acting, to which
the objects of our experience refer and by means of which these objects
are given to us. For it is only by means of such acting—and moreover,
only insofar as it is a hindered or arrested activity—that we obtain any
consciousness whatsoever of what is actual. Only thereby is experience
possible.
The Critique of Pure Reason begins with representations and attempts
to develop the laws of the same within logic, in conformity with our
mind’s original forms of thought. But it leaves unanswered the question,
“Why do I have any representations of anything at all? How do I obtain
a representation?”
The Wissenschaftslehre answers this question as follows: [I have repre¬
sentations] because I discover myself as acting. The I posits itself as act¬
ing—as absolutely free. It26 catches sight of the world within itself. Its
ideal activity does not exist apart from real activity.}
The Wissenschaftslehre provides the following, superior explication of
the Kantian proposition that our concepts refer only to objects of
experience:27 Experience refers to acting. Concepts originate through
acting and exist only for the sake of acting; only acting is absolute. Kant
does not maintain that experience is absolute; he insists upon the pri¬
macy of practical reason, but he has failed to show decisively that the
M The result of the preceding is that both concepts [of possibility and of actuality] exist
only in relation to the acting of freedom: all consciousness is consequently conditioned by
consciousness of what is actual, i.e., experience. All consciousness begins with experience, be¬
cause all experience begins with acting and is possible only insofar as it is related to the
acting of the I, just as it is only through the intermediary of acting that the I is able to
think of itself—or to posit itself, or to intuit itself—as free. For the I can become conscious
of its activity only insofar as it acts, i.e., only insofar as it is limited and its activity is hin¬
dered; and thus freedom becomes the immediate object of the I only to the extent that the
I has indirectly intuited its freedom through this acting and has discovered this acting to
be absolute (p. 54).
25	See KRV, A8o/Bio6ff.
26	Reading (with Hans Jacob’s 1937 text of H) “Es” for the “Er” that appears in the A A
version of H.
27	See KRV, A51/B75 and A66/Bgiff.

practical is the source of the theoretical. In the essay “Concerning a
Presumptuous Tone,” which he has recently published in the Berliner
Monatsschrift, he does insist upon the supremacy of freedom.28
Those who claim that human beings can be representing subjects
without also being active ones propound a groundless philosophy. It is in
the course of acting that I first encounter objects. Here it becomes quite
clear what it means when we say that “the I sees the world in itself,” or
“if there is no practical activity, then neither is there any ideal activity,”
or “if there is no acting, there is no representing.”
(3)	The only sort of action that can be intuited and is, in this respect,
really actual is twofold and contains both freedom and limitation, both
activity and the cancellation of activity; moreover, both of these are
united in every moment of acting.
This limitation of acting will eventually lead us to a Not-I—not, to be
sure, to anything that is present “in itself,” but rather to something that
must necessarily be posited by the intellect in order to account for this
limitation. More specifically, we may also find that all possible actuality
originates from one single actuality. The original source of everything
actual is consequently the interaction, or union, of the I and the Not-I.
Accordingly, the Not-I is nothing actual unless it is related to an instance
of acting on the part of the I,29 for only on this condition and only by
this means does it become an object of consciousness. The “thing in it¬
self’ is thereby abolished once and for all. Moreover, the same thing is
true of the I as well: It appears in consciousness only in relation to a
Not-I. The I is supposed to posit itself, but it can do this only by acting;
acting, however, involves a relationship with the Not-I. The I is some¬
thing only to the extent that it interacts with the world; both the I and
the Not-I are [first] encountered within this relationship. Once one has
discovered them, one can then separate them; but each of them, even
when considered in isolation from the other, still preserves its original
character and can be represented only in relation to the other.N
28	“Von einem neuerdings erhobenen vornehmen Ton in der Philosophie” (May 1796)
(KGS, VIII: 390-406. See especially p. 403).
29	“Es dürfte sich auch im einzelnen ergeben, daß alle mögliche Würklichkeit, die es ge¬
ben kann, aus einem würklichen entstehe. Der Urgrund alles würklichen ist demnach die
Wechselwürkung, oder Vereinigung des Ich und Nichtlch. Das Nichtlch ist sonach nichts
würkliches, wenn es sich nicht auf ein Handeln des Ich bezieht.” The point of this passage
is to emphasize the intimate connection between reality (= “actuality” = Wirklichkeit) and
efficacious action (Wirksamkeit, from the verb wirken = “to have an effect,” “to work,” “to be
active” = sich handeln). Throughout this discussion Fichte employs the term Wirklichkeit,
rather than Realität, in order to emphasize just this connection. Elsewhere in this same
text, however, he appears to use these two terms quite interchangeably.
N The Not-I is glimpsed by means of and along with acting. In itself, therefore, the Not-I
or the “thing in itself' is nothing; it is something only in relation to acting.

164	§5
On this point the Wissenschaftslehre explicates the Kantian philosophy
and at the same time provides it with a deeper foundation. Kant too
never sought any knowledge of a Not-I apart from the I, nor of an I
apart from the Not-I; both are [required for] Critical idealism, and this
is precisely what distinguishes it from all pre-Kantian philosophy. Crit¬
ical idealism is neither materialism nor dogmatism. It is not materialism,
which begins with things;0 nor is it the sort of idealism that begins with
mental substance; nor is it dualism, which begins with the mind and the
thing in itself, considered as two separate substances. Instead, Critical
idealism {—the Wissenschaftslehre, along with the Kantian system in its to- (55)
tality —} either begins with their reciprocal interaction as such, or else
{begins with the absolutely united} accidental properties of both.30 (Sub¬
stance and accident are {for Critical idealism originally nothing but}
forms of our thinking, {employed for the purpose of explaining conscious¬
ness}.) {Unlike materialism, which begins with substances, Critical ide¬
alism arrives at them only subsequently.} Critical idealism thereby avoids
the necessity of having to deny either of these two. Materialism denies
what is mental, while [non-Critical] idealism denies what is material.
Nor does this system face the insoluble31 task of uniting extremes that
cannot be united once they have been separated (as in the case of du¬
alism); instead, it discovers the I and the Not-I to be united.
Nothing in the Wissenschaftslehre is more crucial than this interaction
of the I and the Not-Ip (a point that has been best understood by Privy
Councillor Schiller, in his “Letters Concerning Aesthetic Education”
published in Die Horen).32 The I is intuitable only in reciprocal interac¬
tion with the Not-I. It can be thought of apart from this relationship;
Similarly, the I is intuited only by means of acting—only through its interaction with the
Not-I. In itself, there is no pure, absolute intuition at all; instead, everything is discovered
only insofar as acting occurs. Therefore, the I in itself— apart from any relation to the Not-I
and without any interaction through acting—is also nothing, is a mere Idea. The I in itself
is indeed more than the Not-I in itself The latter is nothing at all. But at the same time, the
I in itself—as an Idea—is without any intuition [and thus] lacks reality for me (p. 55).
0	Materialism and, along with it, dogmatism (for when dogmatism is consistent it be¬
comes materialism) start with a thing in itself (p. 55).
30	“Der kritische Idealismus geht aus von ihrer Wechselwürkung als solcher, oder als Ac-
cidens beider.” The text of K is here modified not only by the insertion (as indicated with
scroll brackets) of material from H, but also by the omission of the second als. The corre¬
sponding passage in H reads: “geht von dem absolut vereinigten Accidens beyder—oder von
der Wechselwirkung des Ich und N.I.—aus.”
31	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “unaflösbare” for K’s “unauflösliche.”
p This therefore is the decisive feature of the Wissenschaftslehre, which it shares with no
previous philosophy. It [posits] no I without a Not-I—for it, everything depends upon this
reciprocal interaction [of the I and the Not-I].
Kant allows one to infer this, but he did not say it (p. 55).
32	J. C. F. Schiller’s Ueber die äesthetische Erziehung des Menschen in einer Reihe von Briefen
was first published in installments in his own journal, Die Horen, in 1795. See especially
letters 11-16; English translation by Reginald Shell, Friedrich Schiller on the Aesthetic Edu¬
cation of Man in a Series of Letters (New York: Ungar, 1965).

§5	l65
but then it is not actual, but is a necessary Idea. The Not-I, on the other
hand, cannot even be thought of [as existing] outside of reason. The I is
primary; the Not-I is secondary, and this is why one is able to think of
the I in isolation, but not of the Not-I.
{The opponents of the Wissenschaftslehre are only too correct and hit (56)
the mark better than they themselves realize when they contend that
the pure I of the Wissenschaftslehre is—considered in itself—nothing. Of
course! For what are the characteristics of “being”? [Can one say that]
“the I is”? This term designates nothing but “being intuitable.” Being
intuitable surely does not apply to the pure I. The pure I is a mere Idea,
whereas the I obtains actuality—i.e., intuitability, or being—only in con¬
nection with or in relationship to the Not-I.
Similarly, the Not-I cannot be posited apart from its relationship to
our reason—or to the I; i.e., it can be posited only as existingybr us.
Remark: The Not-I can certainly be thought of as existing apart from
any connection with our individual reason. That is to say, the Not-I
might exist even if we did not, but then it would not exist for us. This is
why ordinary common sense has resort to [the thought of] a creator
when it considers the creation of the world: It is unable to imagine the Not-I
apart from some relationship to a rational being, i.e., God. To be sure, the
creation of the world is explained differently in the Wissenschaftslehre.)
(4)	The first intuition {of the passage from determinability to
determinacy} was impossible without the determinations we have now
63 added; it did not constitute a complete state of mind, but was an empty
thought. We would not have been able to think of this first intuition
even for the purposes of our philosophy unless we had also mixed with
it things that we clearly understand [only] now.^
§5
For intuition, what is determinable becomes an infinitely divisible
manifold, because it is supposed to be the object of a free choice on the
Q One could here object that we previously reflected upon intuition taken purely by it¬
self, and that by proceeding in this manner we ensured a specific result. Thus, [the ob¬
jection would continue,] we gave a false account of the original procedure of our freely
acting reason, [since a “pure intuition,” in isolation from everything else, has now been
shown to be impossible].
Reply: Our previous intuition of the passage from determinability to determinacy was
not an actual intuition at all, but an empty thought. Only what is limited, only acting, can
be intuited. This also allows us to see that an act of self-positing is possible only if some¬
thing [else] is presently happening and only if we are able to catch a glimpse of the I as
acting. Thus nothing is arbitrarily33 postulated within our system except this: that I must
be conscious of myself (p. 56).
33	“willkuhrlich.”

l66	§ 5
part of absolute freedom. This must also be true of what is determinate,
since it is a part of this manifold. What is determinate and what is de¬
terminable are, to this extent, similar. What distinguishes them is this:
In the first case, the action intuited is merely possible, i.e., an action pos¬
ited by an intellect that is oscillating between opposites; in the second
case, the action intuited is {actual, i.e.,} an action posited by an intellect
that is bound34 to a determinate series of the manifold. Action is activity
that is constantly resisted, and it is only by means of this synthesis of re¬
sistance {with activity} that an activity of the I becomes intuitable.	(57)
{Remark: Our question was, What is it that is determinate?
What is possible is determined only as a specific modification of the in¬
tellect, insofar as it oscillates between several opposites.
What is actual [is determined only as a specific modification of the in¬
tellect,] insofar as it is bound to a particular determinate series [of the
manifold].
A pure activity cannot be intuited as such; it can be intuited only in¬
sofar as it encounters some resistance, and then it is called an “action.”
This is because an action has to be directed at some object, which our
language correctly designates “what stands in opposition,” for this ob¬
ject is what resists activity.}35
34	K: “geknüpfte”; H: “gebundene.”
35	“welches Objekt in unserer Sprache richtig ein Gegenstand heißt; denn dieses Objekt
ist das der Thätigkeit widerstehende.” There are two words for “object” in the German
language: das Objekt and der Gegenstand. Fichte here calls attention to the root meaning of
the latter: “to stand over against.” Note that unlike some other philosophers, notably He¬
gel, Fichte does not appear to make any systematic distinction between Objekt and Gegen¬
stand, both of which are here translated throughout as “object.”

We have now seen that all consciousness is contained within and de¬
duced from the following: a subjective factor, or the self-positing sub¬
ject; an objective factor, or the practical activity [of the I]; and what is
objective in the proper sense of the term, i.e., the Not-I.
The term “objective” thus has two different senses: (1) In opposition
to the ideal activity, what is “objective” is the practical activity. (2) In op¬
position to the I in its entirety, what is “objective” is the Not-I.
Our task from now on is to exhibit the possibility of what we have es¬
tablished so far and to provide a complete account of the conditions of
this possibility. Now that we know what our specific goal is, we are al¬
ready in a position to envision the completion of our task. Our system
will be complete once we arrive at the point where we can comprehend
that the I posits itself as self-posited; and we will reach this point in our
discussion of willing.1, A
Further Investigations
(1)	{We have seen that we are in a position to intuit our practical power (57)
only as acting, and moreover, only as conditioned by a previously con¬
structed concept or goal.
Consequently, we are not concerned with any practical determination in
itself; i.e., we are not concerned with formal freedom or with an act of
1	“Wenn wir dahin kommen, wo wir begreifen, daß das Ich sich selbst seze, als durch sich
selbst gesezt, so ist unser System geschloßen, und dieß ist der Fall beim Wollen.”
A These three points—ideal activity, real activity, and the object (or hindrance)—will
provide the foundation for our entire scientific edifice, and everything that follows is al¬
ready implicit within them. What we still have to show is haw the I posits itself as self-
positing: i.e., we have to show that the I contains within itself the foundation of its entire
being—and, moreover, that this is contained within willing. This is the goal of our inquiry,
and when we have reached this point our entire project will be complete (p. 57).
[167]

168	§ 6
absolute self-affection. Instead, we are here concerned with material
freedom. Formal freedom is postulated along with immediate self-
consciousness; or rather, it is identical with it. Formal freedom is imme¬
diate self-consciousness itself, and is therefore unintuitable.
We can speak only of the conditions that make our intuiting possible,
and not of any act of intuiting “in itself.” We observe only the act of in¬
tuiting. The conditions in question are themselves actions. Intuition and
action always go together; both lie within the I as such. The I appears to
be as it is, and it is as it appears to be.
The action of a practical power cannot itself be intuited, however, but
is, as such, conditioned by a previously constructed concept of a goal, for
only thereby is it a free action. Thus the question arises, Haw is it possible
to construct such a concept}}
In the previous § we showed that the intuition of an instance of free
acting is conditioned by the intuition of a freely constructed concept of
acting [the concept of a goal]. For the construction of this concept, ac¬
cording to what was said in the same §, we are given the sphere of what
is determinable. We are acquainted with what is determinable as a
{manifold} divisible into an infinite number of possible actions. Inas- (58)
much as it is by means of ideal activity that the I determines this concept
[that guides its practical acting], its practical or material freedom (free¬
dom of choice) was said to consist in the freedom to assemble this man¬
ifold in various particular ways.2,B
The I is nevertheless constrained when it engages in this ideal func¬
tion of concept [formation].2 3 The construction of concept X can be com¬
prehended only as follows: A manifold is given to the ideal activity, from
which it assembles a concept. {This ideal activity surveys the entire field
of what is determinable.} It ignores whatever it wishes and grasps hold
of whatever it wants. {It takes what it has selected and assembles a whole
therefrom, and in this way it constructs for itself a concept of the action
2	“in dem Zusammensetzen dieses Mannigfaltigen soil die praktischen, in wiefern es die-
sen Begriff durch ideale Thatigkeit bestimmt, oder die materiale Freiheit (die Freiheit der
Wahl) des Ich bestehen.” The verb zusammensetzen, which Fichte here introduces and em¬
ploys throughout the immediately following §§, is a common word that normally means
“to combine” or “to assemble” (which is how it is here translated). Fichte, however, gener¬
ally uses this term in a narrower and quite specific sense: to designate the I’s synthetic
activity of choosing or selecting portions of the given manifold and combining them within
a single concept: the concept of a goal. Thus the term here always retains something of its
root meaning: “to posit together.”
B The sphere to which this concept of a goal pertains is the sphere of what is determin¬
able, considered as an infinitely divisible manifold. This concept comes into being by
means of material freedom, or freedom of choice, which could thus be described as “the
ideal activity of the practical power” (p. 58).
3	“In wiefern das Ich in dieser Function des Begrifs ideal ist, ist es doch gebunden.”
The term Function is difficult to construe in this context, prompting Radrizzani’s sugges¬
tion that this is probably an error of transcription on Krause’s part and that Entwerfung
should be substituted for Function. A more literal rendering of this sentence would be: “In¬
sofar as the I is ideal in the function of the concept, it is nevertheless constrained.”

§ 6 i6g
to be undertaken.} Its freedom consists in doing just this; but [in order
to do this] it has to intuit what is given as something given, and therein
lies its constraint.4,0 In short, there is here a movement of transition
from determinacy to an act of self-determining (or determinability).
{But note that this situation is just the reverse [of the movement of tran¬
sition we discussed earlier]; for here we have a movement from what is
determinate to what is determinable, i.e., from constraint to freedom. Con¬
straint is synonymous with determinacy, for it consists in the necessity of
having to view precisely this [manifold] as the given sphere of a possible
action—i.e., it consists in determinacy. In other words, what occurs here
is a movement of transition from what provides the conditions to what is
conditioned thereby.} The ideal activity is partially constrained (deter¬
mined) and partially free. Freedom is what is conditioned; constraint is
what provides the conditions, {because} if nothing is given, then nothing
can be chosen. The construction of the concept of a goal can be imag¬
ined in no other way.
(2)	The question now arises, What is it that constrains [the ideal activity],
and where does this come from?
All we have learned so far about the sphere of what is determinable is
that it must be an infinitely divisible manifold. But if this is the only way
in which this sphere can be characterized, then it is nothing at all. Some¬
thing whose sole distinguishing feature is infinite divisibility furnishes
us with no stopping place and with nothing that could constrain the ac¬
tivity of the I. But without constraint, there would be no ideal activity;
and without ideal activity, there would be no infinite divisibility. Conse¬
quently, the concept of something that is not supposed to be anything
more than “infinitely divisible” is a self-contradictory concept. Yet this
65 very concept appears among the conditions for the possibility of con¬
sciousness, and thus it would appear that consciousness includes among
its conditions something impossible.0 {In this way, we would never
obtain a “something,” never anything positive or posited; [instead, we
would have a situation] in which something is forever posited in oppo¬
sition, a situation in which something conflicting is always encoun¬
tered—and no consciousness could ever come into being in such a case. 44	“ihre Gebundenheit.”
c But the ideal I or the ideal activity of the I is constrained by the fact that this concept
must be assembled [from a specific manifold]. It is free to choose; but in choosing it is at
the same time constrained (p. 58).
D What constrains the ideal activity is the given manifold, or what is determinable; and
we are acquainted with this so far [only] as an infinitely divisible manifold. This, however,
is nothing at all—a contradiction; for a continuous process of simply dividing would include
nothing at all that could be related to the ideal activity or could bring it to a halt, would
itself be nothing at all; and, in that case, the ideal activity would itself be nothing. Even if
the ideal activity were to continue dividing forever, it would never be able to grasp the
manifold as such; instead, the manifold would simply continue to dwindle away, and this
would mean that no consciousness whatsoever would be possible (p. 58).

170	§ 6
In order to become conscious of myself, I have to act freely. But this
is impossible apart from the construction of a concept of the action
[in question], which is, in turn, impossible apart from a sphere of
what is determinable; for, if I am to exercise a free choice, I must be pre¬
sented with a manifold. [Mere] multiplicity, however, is [nothing more
than] opposability. Consequently, if consciousness is to exist, everything
in this manifold must not simply be opposed to everything else; for in
this case it would be nothing at all. Instead, something positive has to be
supposed.}
Therefore, in order to account for the ideal activity of the practical
power, we have to assume the presence of something positive, of some¬
thing that is not further divisible—i.e., of something real. What is indi¬
visible must therefore be something that, with respect to its reality, is
indivisible, though the quantity of the same must indeed be divisible.
{This reality constrains the ideal activity or makes it ideal, and this oc- (59)
curs through the reciprocal interaction and interrelation of what is real
and what is ideal.} The ideal activity must here be constrained in such a
way that it will not be constantly carried away by its own capacity for
mobility,5’ E but will instead be arrested and fixed {—not creative or pro¬
ductive; it is to be directed upon something that is present and stable,
upon a “being” of the manifold}.
What arrests and fixes the ideal activity is supposed to furnish the ma¬
terial for a selection or choice, {and indeed, for a choice on the part of an
intellect}; but one can choose only when one is conscious of what one is
choosing, and there is no consciousness of something without opposi¬
tion. Consequently, there must be some states of mind which are char¬
acterized by nothing but unity and identity and which contain within
themselves no multiplicity at all {and bear no similarity to any other
states, beyond the fact that they are all included within the sphere of
what is determinable}.F What is determinable must possess certain ele¬
mentary qualities6 (which cannot be broken down any further), and it
must possess some sort of being as well.
All that can be related to the ideal activity is the act of positing, and is
either the activity of the I, the constrained state7 of the ideal activity, or
the being of the Not-1—a being-posited that negates an act of becoming
5	“nicht daß sie als beweglich fortgerißen werde.”
E This ideal activity itself is now supposed to be constrained. (It should not, as occurred
above in the case of the intuition of the I as movable, be carried away along with it—
through an agility (act) the ideal activity was there carried away along with it) [p. 59].
F Since there can be no consciousness of anything except by means of opposition, there
must be states of mind which, in opposition to other states of mind, cannot be further
divided and broken down, and which have nothing in common with other mental states,
beyond the fact that they are all included within the sphere of what is determinable (p. 59).
6	“Grundeigenschaften.”
7	“Gebundenheit.”

§6	171
and doing.8, G This derivation of the possibility of opposition does not
contradict the previously affirmed infinite divisibility [of the manifold];
for I can certainly increase or decrease one and the same being.
Later on we will see that what we have just described is precisely what
is given through immediate feeling,8 9 e.g.: red, blue, sweet, sour. The
state of mind involved in such feelings is one of unity rather than mul¬
tiplicity; divisibility is still present, however: namely, in respect to
degree.10 11 I can have a sensation of what is red to a greater or to a lesser
degree, but I cannot say where red ceases to be red.H {Accordingly, in
order for the ideal I to be able to construct a concept of its action, a man¬
ifold, a “something,” must be given [to it], through which it is con¬
strained, or, as it were, “fastened down,” and from which it assembles its
concept.} How is it possible to posit or to be conscious of such a “some¬
thing”? How does it become present within the I?
(3)	This “something” and the consciousness thereof precede all acting,
for they provide the conditions that make acting possible.11, 1 “The
given” is the sphere of all possible acting. But acting is absolutely not
66 anything simple; instead, it is twofold: It includes, so to speak, an ex¬
pansion of {absolute} self-affection, and it also includes some resistance (60)
to the same, which is what brings this process of expansion to a halt and
makes it into something intuitable. Acting is what lies within the sphere
of what is determinable; every possible instance of acting must include12
[1]	something that pertains to the I (activity) and [2] something that re¬
sists it.
8	“ein Gesetztsein[,] durch welches ein Werden und Machen negirt wird.”
G (“Being” here signifies the negation of activity—a being-posited, through which some
act of becoming and producing is negated.)
The ideal activity becomes ideal in just this’way: it is determined, and the practical ac¬
tivity is determined along with it, for its choice cannot extend beyond these elementary
qualities (p. 59).
9	“durch das unmittelbare Gefuhl.”
10	“dem Grade nach.”
H In the case of all colors and sounds, as well as in the case of feelings of taste, the mental
state is one of unity. Degree is certainly present, yet no one can say how much is required
before such a state ceases completely—at what point, for example, red ceases to be red.
Hence no movement of transition occurs here; the opposition in this case is purely by
means of sensation (p. 59).
11	“denn das Handeln ist dadurch bedingt.”
1 This “something” precedes all acting and conditions the concept of acting, for no con¬
cept can be constructed where there is nothing—i.e., where there is no manifold. Such a
“something” must indeed precede all consciousness of acting, and yet we have previously
maintained that the I is conscious of nothing beyond its own activity. Is the I now supposed
to be conscious of something that is not an activity? (pp. 59-60).
12	Though the text of K states that acting itself must be both these things, the context (as
well as the parallel passage in H) makes it clear that we are concerned with two different
components contained in every instance of acting, though Fichte sometimes (as in the fol¬
lowing paragraph) prefers to characterize these as two different “aspects” of one and the
same “something.”

172 § 6
This “something” is posited not as an actual acting, {but only as a striv¬
ing; it is only the concept of a possible action within this sphere, and we
are considering the I at this point only as a power to act freely}. Hence
that aspect of it which pertains to the I cannot be explained by referring
to any actual act of self-affection. The I is here posited only as a power
to act within the manifold. This power does not appear here merely as
one that it is possible for us to conceive, however; but rather it presents
itself as something intuitable, and, to this extent [that is, insofar as it can
be intuited], “being” can be ascribed to it. {Something is supposed to be
given to the intuiting subject, something that brings intuition to a halt.}
The characteristic feature of being is determinacy; therefore, an original
determinacy, [an original tendency] toward acting as such or “in
general”13 must here be present.
■ Once posited, the I is free not to act “in general,” but only to will to
act in this or that specific way: here we arrive at a necessary acting. Ac¬
tivity constitutes the very essence of the I; accordingly, what we are deal¬
ing with here is the being of activity. In constructing a concept of its own
willing, the I is constrained; but constraint points to the presence of
some being—indeed, a being of the I itself.14 That which constrains [the
I], and, to this extent, possesses “being,”15 belongs to the I itself. But
here the I is practical (activity), and therefore the being in question is the
being of an activity. Two mutually contradictory concepts (namely, being
and activity) are here united, and this unity is here treated as something
found or discovered.^ I discover something out of which I assemble [the
concept of) my acting. I myself, however, am included in what I discover
in this manner; hence activity is here present as something discovered.
Activity of this sort is a suppressed activity,17 and from this it obtains the
character of being. Such a “something,” however, is a “drive,”18 a self-
engendering striving, which has its foundation within that to which it
13	“Der Character des Seins ist Bestimmtheit, folglich müßte hier liegen ursprüngliche
Bestimmtheit zum Handeln überhaupt.”
14	“ein eigentliches Sein.”
15	Reading, with H, “Seyende ist” for K’s “sezende ist” (“is engaged in positing”).
J The characteristic feature of being, however, is determinacy. Accordingly, the I is not
free as soon as it is posited, but it is free only in making its choice; in constructing the
concept of this choice, however, it is constrained. Its power is no longer a mere power, but
is a necessary one—not, to be sure, a power that is acting, but rather one whose activity is
suppressed. This activity of the I therefore acquires the character of “being” (in the second
sense of the term: a “fixed” being). This being that suppresses and constrains also pertains
to the I (for this is precisely what distinguishes the I from an action); but at the same time,
it is something practical—a deed—and therefore it would be the being of an activity. These
two apparently contradictory concepts are here synthetically united: here is a deed16
(p. 6o).
16	“hier ist That."
17	“ein zurückgehaltene Thätigkeit.”
18	“ein Trieb.”

§6	173
belongs. (See pp. 286-87 of the compendium.)19 A drive is an activity
that is not any type of acting; it is something that arrests, something that
determines the ideal activity, a constant inner disposition20 to overcome
what resists it.K (Similar to the disposition of a compressed steel spring.)
{Drive and limitation are one and the same.}	(61)
67 Whenever one posits a drive, one must necessarily also posit some¬
thing that hinders activity; for the drive explains the necessity of acting,
but the reason21 the drive fails to become an instance of acting and re¬
mains a drive must lie elsewhere.
To the extent that the foundation21 of an activity lies within the sub¬
ject, one can say that the foundation of a drive also lies within the sub¬
ject. Insofar as a drive is a drive and not an activity, however, its
foundation does not lie within the subject; and since something is
present that hinders the activity, the activity is indeed canceled. Conse¬
quently, we are unable to escape from this reciprocal relationship.L
(4)	{Drive precedes all acting and makes acting possible.} What now fol¬
lows from this drive of the I? If one were to suppose that the I were not
limited and that its drive were an activity, then the I would be an act of
self-affection and nothing more. The I would not be constrained, and
consequently, no ideal activity would be present; ideal and real activity
would coincide. We are unable to think of anything of this sort which
would pertain to us; instead, it would describe the self-consciousness of
God, thought of as unitary.22 (See the remark within parentheses on p.
275 of the compendium.)M
19	GWL. As always in this translation, Fichte’s references to the page numbers of the first
edition of 1794/95 have been replaced with references to the text of the Foundations of the
Entire Wissenschaftslehre included in Vol. I of SW.
20	“eine innere fortdauernde Tendenz.”
K A drive is a self-engendered striving, a constant disposition toward activity; it is not an
acting, but only something that determines the ideal activity, only an inner activity that
always continues to determine itself. It is not an external activity; instead, it is a suppressed
activity, which would become an activity just as soon as what resists it were to be removed
(pp. 60-61).
“der Grund,” in both instances.
LThe I s drive aims at activity, and it is limited in its activity: this is the reciprocal rela¬
tionship (p. 61).
22	“des einen gedachten Gottes.” The sense of this elliptical comment is clarified by the
following parenthetical passage in GWL, p. 275, to which Fichte himself refers: “(Let us
suppose, for the purposes of elucidation, that we have to explain the self-consciousness of
God: This is possible only on the presupposition that God reflects upon his own being.
Since, however, in the case of God’s self-consciousness, what is reflected upon would be
everything in one and one in everything, and the reflecting subject would likewise be every¬
thing in one and one in everything, then it would not be possible, in and through God, to
distinguish the object of reflection from the reflecting subject, consciousness itself from
the object of the same; and hence the self-consciousness of God would not be explained—
just as this must remain forever inexplicable and incomprehensible for any finite reason,
i.e., for any reason bound by the law of determination of the object of reflection.)”
M We are now standing at the limit of all consciousness, and therefore, in order to make

174	§6
Let us now move from this [unlimited] state to the limited one.23 Now
the I is unable to act; its practical activity is brought to a halt, {and be¬
cause of the resistance it encounters, it is no longer an activity at all, but
is merely summoned to act. A limited I of this sort possesses a drive, with
which, however, consciousness is necessarily linked or through which it
first acquires its consciousness.}
{From this drive we derive the following important result: The I can
never be conscious unless a drive or limitation is present.} It is the character
of the I to posit itself idealiter, i.e., to intuit itself; and only now is such an
act of self-intuition possible, for only now is something present which
has been brought to a halt. The I must necessarily be conscious of its
drive or state of limitation. Consciousness follows from the presence of
a drive.24 If the I were nothing but activity, and if no limitation were
present within it, then the I could not be conscious of its own activity.N
Nothing can occur within the I without consciousness. A drive is now
present within the I; consequently, some consciousness thereof must also
exist. {What is highest in man is his striving or his drive.}
Remark: (A) Ideal and real activity diverge at this point, {i.e., as soon
as limitation is introduced,} and the previously described opposition of
the two now becomes possible. We are here standing at the limit25 of all
consciousness, because we are considering the very origin of all con¬
sciousness.0
(B) Ideal activity is possible only as constrained activity. Its immediate
object is the practical activity. Its constrained state depends upon the
practical activity, which must originally be a striving, and this is the or¬
igin of consciousness/
the transition [from what is determinable] to what is determinate, we have to imagine
something incomprehensible, something that (for limited, finite beings like ourselves, who
can think only discursively) is nothing at all.
We must imagine an I that is not limited, an I that is nothing but an act of self-affecting,
an I within which ideal and real activity are not separate, but coincide (p. 61).
23	“zur Beschränktheit.”
24	“Aus dem Triebe folgt Bewustsein.”
N If the I were nothing but activity, i.e., if its practical activity were never limited and if
nothing that had been brought to a halt were present, then the I would possess no con¬
sciousness. It would be unable to posit itself. The necessary consciousness of a drive or of
what is limited is what first makes the I’s self-positing possible (p. 6i).
25	“an der Grenze.”
° Ideal and real activity separate from each other as soon as limitation is introduced,
and this makes both activities possible; for when a drive is present the practical activity
becomes intuitable and consciousness [becomes possible] at the same time—and this is the
limit of all our consciousness.
Within that incomprehensible something that we previously called “X,” practical and
ideal activity are not separate from each other, but are instead inseparable and identical.
Therefore, X includes no limitation or drive: it is God (pp. 61—62).
p Practical activity is originally nothing more than the striving of an intellect. Ideal ac¬
tivity exists not on its own, but only by means of its object, practical activity.

§6	175
{We have now arrived at the following point: The I is supposed to be (62)
able to consider its possible ways of acting, and its possible acting must
thus be derived from this particular instance of acting [namely, its act of
considering its possible ways of acting]. Every instance of determinate,
free acting presupposes the construction of a concept of this same way of
acting; and in order to construct such a concept, the free I must, before
any acting, have a cognition of its overall possibility of action. But it ac¬
quires such a cognition only insofar as it is conscious of the fact that the
material for a possible action is immediately given to it, is aware of the
origin of what supplies a free being with the “stuff” for its free choice or
for the construction of its concept of a goal, and is aware as well that this
material is immediately given to it.26 This is what we must now explain.
The I reaches this point only when it discovers within itself an activity
that is constrained without any act of self-determination on the part of
the I. Such an action has two components: something that pertains to the
I as a subject, and something that resists [its activity], something that lies
outside of the I and provides the ground [of this limitation]. We have
called such an internally hindered activity, which does not and cannot
give rise to any action, a “drive.” Thus the I is capable of an action only
to the extent that it is capable of possessing a drive.
Since everything present within the I is accompanied by conscious¬
ness, and indeed, since consciousness is possible only through limitation
of the I’s activity, then every drive (understood as a limited activity of the
I) must not only be accompanied by consciousness, but must also, as
something original (that is, as something that precedes all acting), make
consciousness possible in the first place. [Every drive must thus] produce
an immediate (material) consciousness.
What sort of consciousness is this? The answer to this question can be
made clear only by means of opposition.}
(5)	What kind of consciousness is supposed to accompany a drive? In the
kind of consciousness with which we have been familiar hitherto,
namely, consciousness of intuition, we view real and ideal {activity} as
separate. The being of the former is independent of the latter, which
merely observes {what is present in the real activity}. But this cannot be (63)
the case with the kind of consciousness we are now discussing, for no real
being is present in this case. No acting occurs; therefore, ideal and real
Practical activity is constrained, and to this extent it is merely a drive or striving. But a
consciousness must accompany this drive (p. 62).
26	“Diese Erkenntniß erlangt es aber nur dadurch, daß es sich bewußt werde, daß ihm
das Materiale einer möglichen Handlung unmittelbar gegeben sey, u. woher für das freye
Wesen der Stoff für die Wahl seiner Freiheit, oder zur Entwerfung seines Zwecksbegrifs—
komme, u. daß ihm dieses Materiale oder der Stoff unmittelbar gegeben werde.” The
terms Materiale and Stoff appear to be employed interchangeably in this passage.

176	§ 6
{activity} must, in this case, coincide: what is ideal {—that is, conscious¬
ness—} would here have to be its own object, {and we would thereby
obtain} an immediate consciousness, and this is a “feeling.”
One never “feels” an object; an object is “intuited.” All objects—
including instances of acting—are supposed to be something even apart
from my consciousness of them.^ To be sure, the transcendental philos¬
opher does not forget that nothing could exist apart from consciousness,
but ordinary common sense does not see things in this manner. One dis¬
tinguishes between acting and consciousness. A feeling that is not felt,
however, is nothing whatsoever. Reflection is necessarily and inseparably
conjoined with feeling.R A feeling is nothing more than an act of posit¬
ing a determinate state of the I.
{The particular form of consciousness which makes its appearance at
this point must necessarily be a feeling. Determinacy is present here, yet
it is not an intuition, for the I and the Not-I are not yet present. To be
sure, this determinacy must subsequently be posited, but it is equally
true that the I cannot posit anything that does not exist. What then is
this mere determinacy—and the consciousness that flows from it—
which is supposed to be posited and is not a reality? Reply: It is a mere
affection, a mere state [of the I]; and a positing of this sort is a “feeling.”}
We have now described an indirect consciousness of an immediate ma¬
terial, which is just what we required. {In a similar manner,} our previ¬
ous search for the formal [condition] {required for the explanation of
consciousness} led us to the subject-object, to an act of self-positing. I
and Not-I appear together within this feeling, as we will see in more de¬
tail below.2" Thus it is not only in consequence of an act of self-
determination that the I and the Not-I appear together; both are also
present in a feeling. Activity and passivity are united in feeling. Insofar
as activity is present, the feeling is related to the I; but insofar as pas¬
sivity is present, it is related to a Not-I—though this is discovered within
the I.s In factual terms, feeling is what comes first and is original. At this
Q Consequently, it is an incorrect use of language to say that one “feels” objects: one
does not feel objects; instead, one “intuits” them. The objects are there whether I enter¬
tain any representations of them or not—just as it is also possible to act without being con¬
scious of acting. Indeed, we usually act without giving any additional thought to the
intuiting subject (p. 63).
R There is no feeling apart from consciousness, however, without a feeling subject and
without something felt. Reflection, what is ideal, is here its own consciousness, united with
what is real, as its own object: I feel myself—I am at once the feeling subject and what is
felt.
In the case of intuition, in contrast, I am not also what is intuited (p. 63).
27	See below, § 7, sects. 5 and 6.
sJust as we previously had to posit a subject-object in order to explain consciousness,
insofar as the form of the same is concerned,28 so here as well, in the case of the matter or
content29 of the I, we would have to discover within the I an immediately determinate con¬
sciousness, i.e., an immediate material. The situation with the matter or content is pre¬
cisely the same [as it was with the form]: We may not allow the content of consciousness to

§6	i77
point one can already see how everything can be present within the I
and can see that one does not need to go beyond the I. All one would
need to assume is the existence of a manifold of feelings, and it would
not be difficult to show how our representations of the world could be
derived from this manifold.
(6)	How is it possible for the I, in advance of all acting, to possess a cog¬
nition of the possible modes of action31 {in order to construct for itself (64)
the concept of a specific mode of acting}? These possibilities of action
69 require that something positive and incapable of further analysis be
present within the manifold—{something that simply is what it is, whose
being must lie in something determinate,} something by means of which
the manifold itself first comes into being. {In short, we must assume}
that there have to be certain basic or elementary qualities.32 A feeling is
just such an elementary quality;33 it is a determinate, limited state of the
entire I, beyond which the I cannot go. Feeling is the ultimate limit [of
consciousness] and cannot be further analyzed and assembled.T A feel¬
ing simply is what it is and because it is. What is given through feeling
is the condition for the possibility of all acting on the part of the I;
i.e., feeling provides the I with its sphere of action, though not with its
object.u
Feeling is represented within the sensory world by something that
is “feelable” or “tangible,” and this is posited as matter.34 Matter is
be derived from something else, which must then, in turn, be derived from some third
thing, etc. Instead, we must have an immediate object, i.e., feeling.
In feeling, the I and the Not-I are present in immediate unity with each other. This does
not occur as the result of any actual self-determination, through which some actual action
would be possible. Instead, that aspect of feeling which pertains to the I is striving—a
drive, not an action. Activity and passivity are united in feeling. Activity, drive: this is what
is related to the I. But insofar as a passivity, a limited being,30 or a hindered activity is
present within feeling, then feeling can be related to a Not-I, even though this feeling is
discovered within the I itself (p. 63).
28	“bey der Form um das Bewußtsein zu erklären.”
29	“bey der Materie.”
30	“ein Beschränktseyn.”
31	“der Handlungsmöglichkeiten.”
32	“Grundeigenschaften.”
33	“das Gefühl ist <eins>.” Instead of this uncertain reading of the last clause (which
could perhaps be rendered “feeling is something unified”), the translation here follows the
corresponding passage in H: “Das Gefühl is so etwas,” which might also be rendered ¡“Feel¬
ing is just such a positive ‘something.’ ”
T One cannot go beyond feeling. No action of the I can go beyond feeling, precisely be¬
cause the entire I is limited at this point: Its ideal and real activities, along with everything
contained in the I, are here constrained, and thereby the entire power of the I is originally
limited. That which is supposed to be originally limited or constrained cannot be further
analyzed and then assembled anew (p. 64).
u What is given through feeling is not the object of an acting; it cannot be altered (p. 64).
34	“Die Darstellung des Gefühls in der Sinnenwelt ist das fühlbare, und wird gesezt als
Materie.”

178	§6
something that I can neither produce nor annihilate; nor can I do any¬
thing to make it affect me differently than the way it does affect me in
accordance with its own nature, {because this constitutes the original
limit of the I’s entire power}. To be sure, I am able to come closer to it or
to draw farther away from it. Moreover, what is positive has to be man¬
ifold, since it is supposed to serve as the object of a free choice. Accord¬
ingly, there must be a multiplicity of feelings; or, expressed differently,
the drive must be capable of being affected in variety of different ways—
a point that could also be expressed by saying that the I must possess
several different drives. This multiplicity of feelings cannot be deduced
or derived from any higher {characteristic of the I}, for we have here
reached the limit {of all consciousness}. The manifold of feelings is pos¬
tulated along with freedom itself. {If I am to be able to posit myself as
absolutely free, there must be a multiplicity of feelings; otherwise there
could be no choice, no self-consciousness—no freedom. Feelings pro¬
vide freedom with its object; consequently, in accordance with the pos¬
tulate of self-positing, there must be a manifold of feelings.} It is certainly
true that the manifold contained within the drive will subsequently show
itself to be a natural drive and will be explained with reference to
nature;35 but nature itself is posited only in consequence of feeling.
These manifold feelings are completely opposed to one another and
have nothing in common. There is no transition from one feeling to an¬
other. Each feeling is a specific, determinate state of the I, which would
seem to imply that the I itself is manifold. But what then would become
of the identity of the I? The I is supposed to relate this manifold [of feel¬
ings] to itself and to view this multiplicity as its own. How is this possible?
{To be sure, one could say that the I, through the employment of in¬
tellect, sees that, despite this manifold, it remains only one in the midst (65)
of this multiplicity. Yet this is not a sufficient answer.
The I is supposed to survey the manifold and to relate it to itself as a
manifold of its feelings. How is it possible to unify this multiplicity of
feelings within one and the same consciousness? How can this conscious¬
ness compare these feelings with each other, since they are supposed to
be opposed states?}
Kant provided an excellent answer to the question concerning how
the manifold [of intuitions] is unified within consciousness; but he did
not explain how the manifold of feelings is unified, even though the an¬
swer to the former question is based upon the answer to the latter. He
connected all feelings to pleasure and pain (see the Critique of Judgment);36
70 however, there must be some middle term between the relation of feel¬
ings to pleasure and pain, some intermediary that alone makes this re-
35	“hinterher wohl wird dieses mannigfaltige im Triebe sich zeigen als Naturtrieb, and
wird aus der Natur erklärt werden.”
36	See especially the Preface and § 9 (KGS, V: 168 and 2i9ff.).

§6	179
lation possible.v * * * * In order to sense whether A or B provides more
pleasure, I must first place them side by side, so that I can compare
them. How can both feelings be present for me at the same time?
Let us suppose that one samples two wines—not in order to discover
which of the two tastes better, but simply in order to obtain knowledge of
the differences in the way they “feel.” A comparison of this sort would
appear to be impossible, for while one is tasting one wine, one is not tast¬
ing the other. There is never more than one taste present, whereas a
comparison requires two. Nevertheless, everyone knows that he can in¬
deed undertake such a comparison.
One must pay attention to the manner in which this is accomplished.
A tasting of this sort involves activity. One focuses all one’s senses upon
the object one is tasting and concentrates one’s senses upon it. One re¬
lates this specific feeling to one’s entire sensibility.w The second tasting
is accomplished in the same way as the first, and thus there is something
to which both tastes are compared and which they have in common:
namely, sensibility as a whole, which remains the same in both instances.
This account assumes the presence [within us] of a general system of
sensibility, which simply has to be there in advance of all experience, but
which is not immediately felt as such; instead, it is that by means of
which and in relation to which every particular feeling that can be felt is
felt. A particular feeling is an alteration in the regular and enduring
state of the system of sensibility.
This system of sensibility itself is [not] felt, because it is something de¬
terminable rather than something determinate; therefore, unless its
state is altered, nothing is felt at all. If one thinks of the simple act of
feeling as an ideal activity, then it is governed by the law of ideal activity,
according to which something is posited only in the movement of
transition from what is determinable to what is determinate.37 This is
the case here as well: a particular feeling is something determinate, and,
as such, it can appear within consciousness only if it is related to some¬
thing determinable, which, in this case, is the system of sensibility.
Accordingly, the comparison of feelings is accomplished only indirectly;
every determinate feeling is compared with the system as a whole,x
v Kant’s explanation of this, which relates all feelings to pleasure and pain, cannot ac¬
count for all our positive, determinate feelings; for there must be something intermediate
between pleasure and pain, since not all feelings are accompanied by pleasure or pain
(p. 65).
w Yet both [acts of tasting] depend to a certain extent upon our freedom. That is to say,
activity is involved in these acts of tasting: all our senses are united through this intuition
and everything foreign is dismissed. We see, hear, etc., nothing else; instead, our entire
sensibility is concentrated upon the whole system of our feeling (p. 65).
37	“welche nur im Uibergehen vom Bestimmbaren zum Bestimmten etwas sein konne.”
The translation of this obscure passage is amended in the light of the corresponding pas¬
sage in H: “als welche nur gesezt ist durch das Uebergehen. ...”
x A particular feeling is something determinate to the extent that it is posited in oppo¬
sition to the sysem of sensibility or to what is determinable (p. 65).

180	§ 6
{which is immediate and always the same and, as what is determinable, (66)
is something empty and confused, which is then altered}.
7 i	The last pretext for dogmatism is thereby removed. Even feelings are
not able to enter us from outside. They would be nothing for us if they
were not within us. If any feelings are to be present for us, then the en¬
tire system of all feelings must be presupposed a priori.
(7)	The system of sensibility is not felt as such; every feeling that is sup¬
posed to be known must occur as a particular feeling. Therefore, several
feelings must already be present before it is possible to construct a con¬
cept of a goal, {since, for the purpose of this construction, a manifold
must already be present, for otherwise no selection can occur. This man¬
ifold is obtained through feeling, and each of these feelings, in turn, is
possible only insofar as a system of sensibility is presupposed.} Thus
something must already actually have been felt—e.g., a particular smell
or taste, which I never felt before, and which presents itself to me as
something particular. If this particular smell or taste had never pre¬
sented itself to me, then I would never have been able to imagine it
merely because I possess a system of feelings.Y This feeling has a place
within the system of feelings; but if it is to be present for me, it must be
present as a particular feeling. {If something particular is supposed to
have been felt, it must therefore have presented itself to me as some¬
thing particular; and until this occurs, it cannot appear for me within
any possible concept of a goal.}
How can a feeling become the object of a concept? {This happens
when the practical I assembles a concept from the manifold; in this man¬
ner the I becomes intuitable. To be sure, the I is at the same time the feeling
subject, but in this relationship the feeling subject is the object of the
intuiting subject. Feeling and intuition are distinct from each other.} In
the case of intuition, a reality is presupposed; but this is not so in the
case of feeling. The reality that is present here is the act of feeling itself.
I do not feel something; but rather I feel myself.
{Something determinate is and must be present when a concept of a
goal is constructed, and in contemplating this, I am merely the intuiting
subject; yet it is feeling that provides the original manifold for [the con¬
struction of] the concept of a goal.} What then is the nature of the tran¬
sition from feeling to intuition? I cannot intuit a feeling unless it lies
within me; thus, if I am to intuit a feeling, I certainly have to be a feeling
Y Each of my feelings is felt as something particular; that is to say, to the extent that the
system of my feeling is present and is merely altered in the same distinctive way on each
occasion, then I immediately recognize a particular feeling. But if I had never experienced
this or that particular feeling, then it would be and would remain completely unknown to
me. I could neither imagine it on my own nor become acquainted with it from the de¬
scriptions of others; it would be nothing at all for me. For example, a person who has
never yet tasted a melon, etc. (p. 66).

§6 i8i
subject. An act of reflection simply occurs [at this point].38 By means of
a new39 act of reflection, an act that occurs with absolute freedom, the
I, as an intuiting subject, lifts itself above itself to the extent that it is a
feeling subject {and looks down upon the latter as the substrate}, and (67)
thereby becomes independent.2
We have now explained the origin of the material that presents itself
for our free choice.
§6
A free action is possible only if it is guided by a freely constructed con¬
cept of this action (§ 4); consequently, in advance of all action, the free
intellect must be acquainted with the possibilities of action. Such an ac¬
quaintance can be explained only by assuming the presence within the I,
prior to all action, of a drive, within which, precisely because it is only a
72 drive, the inner activity of the I is limited. Since nothing pertains to the
I which it does not posit,40 the I must also posit this limitation, and an
original limitation that is posited in this way is called a “feeling.”41 Since
a free choice or selection is supposed to take place, a manifold of feelings
must be present, and these various feelings can be distinguished from
one another only through their relationship to the general system of
feelings, a system that is likewise originally present.42
Comparison with the Compendium43
In the older as well as in the newer version, striving or drive is taken
to be what is highest and primary in human beings.
38	“Es wird schlechthin reflectirt.”
39	Radrizzani points out that we are here dealing with a single act of reflection and thus
proposes that the word “new” be deleted from this sentence.
z I cannot intuit any feeling outside of me, but only within myself, and indeed, in such a
manner that the act of feeling itself acquires complete reality or becomes an object. Intu¬
ition arises only after this, insofar as an act of reflection simply occurs—that is, occurs with
absolute freedom. Intuition occurs when the I, as it were, raises itself above itself and then
looks down upon the feeling subject, as the substrate. The I thereby becomes independent,
but we will say more about this below (pp. 66-67).
40	Reading, with H and Krause’s MS “was es nicht setze” for K’s “als was es sich nicht
setze.”
41	“so etwas nennt man ein Gefühl.” The translation interprets K’s “so etwas” in the light
of the parallel passage in H: “(so ein setzen der ursprünglichen Beschränkung).”
42	Reading, with H and Krause’s MS, “das gleichfalls ursprünglich vorhandene” for K’s
“das gleichfalls nothwendige ursprünglich vorhandene.”
43	As before, a few of Fichte’s cryptic citations from GWL have been slightly expanded to
make it easier for readers to locate the relevant portions of the earlier text. Fichte’s page
references to the first edition have been replaced with page references to SW, I.

l82	§6
In the present version, we begin with the immediate object of con¬
sciousness, i.e., with freedom, and then go on to display the conditions
of the same. Free action is what is most essential to our inquiry. The pri¬
mary aim of the previous version was to provide an explanation of rep¬
resentations and of the intellect, and thus free action, striving, and drive
were there employed merely as a basis for such an explanation. In the
present version, the [realm of the] practical is the immediate object, and
the theoretical [realm] is derived therefrom. Furthermore, the proce¬
dure of the present inquiry is predominantly synthetic, whereas that of
the former is more analytic.
What is ideal and what is real accompany each other and remain for¬
ever separate. In the book, the ideal is specified first, and the real is then
derived therefrom. Here, on the other hand, we begin with the practical,
which is treated in isolation so long as it remains separate from and un¬
related to the theoretical. But as soon as the two come together, they are
dealt with in conjunction with each other. Accordingly, the book’s divi¬
sion into theoretical and practical parts is here dispensed with entirely.
Both versions begin with a reciprocal determination of the I and the
Not-I.
p. 125. “Both the I and the Not-I are posited. ...” This passage does
not give any consideration to the question of whether this mutual de¬
termination is ideal or real. In contrast with the book, here we pay no
attention to this question. {Instead, we have exhibited a reciprocal rela¬
tionship between the I and itself—i.e., between real44 and ideal activity.}
{pp. 246-49, § 5. We are also not yet in a position to deal with this
topic here. Some of the things said on pp. 251—52, however, are accept¬
able even within the present context. What is said on p. 252 is for us now
no hypothesis.}
p. 252. “The I was to posit a Not-I,” etc. That the I “in part does not
73 posit itself” means: it posits itself as limited. I.e., the intellect must posit
something real in opposition to itself, because the ideal [activity] is sup¬
posed to be limited. But the reason for this limitation cannot lie within
the ideal [activity] itself, and therefore it must be referred to the real [ac¬
tivity]. This is how we come to oppose to the I something that lies within
the I.
p. 252. “A priori, this is a mere hypothesis. ...” This proposition is
strictly demonstrated in the present version, because ideal and real ac¬
tivity have here been distinguished and separated from each other.
p. 254. “The I is supposed to exert causality on the Not-I,” etc. Here we
cannot yet speak of any such causality, for the concept of causality has
not yet been explicated. In the present version, acting is not inferred
from the Not-I; instead, the Not-I is inferred from acting.
44	Reading “reale” for H’s “reine” (“pure”).

§ 6	183
pp. 254—55. “The conflict therefore ... an infinite, unbounded real¬
ity.” The concept of infinity is here assumed only for the purposes of the
presentation. {“The infinite I”: this is to be made comprehensible in
terms of its opposite, that is, through the I that is limited by striving.} All
that needs to be presupposed in order to explain striving is a purely ac¬
tive being.
p. 255. “Insofar as the I posits a Not-I in opposition to itself, it nec¬
essarily posits limits.” Where the previous presentation speaks of
“limits,”45 the present version speaks of “being halted” or “ being con¬
strained.” But in this new presentation we do not infer these limits from
the Not-I; instead, we infer the Not-I from the limited state of the I.
pp. 261-62. “The result of our inquiries so far. ...” Something im¬
mediate must be assumed in advance of all free determination, some¬
thing in which the I and the Not-I are united: a disposition, a striving,
a drive.
pp. 271—77. “We explain ourselves. ...” (This is an important point
and is recommended reading.) The I sees everything within itself; even
if it views something as outside of itself, the reason for this must never¬
theless lie within the I.AA
p. 277. “Without a practical power in the I. . . . ” This passage also de¬
serves to be reread, but it needs to be read in the light of the new pre¬
sentation. This new version does not repeat what was said in the earlier
one concerning the “check” and the “direction”46 [of the I’s activity]; in¬
stead, it speaks of “constraint” {of the ideal and real activities}.	(68)
p. 279. “According to the account just put forward. ...” This point
would now be expressed as follows: The I is originally self-positing; but
if its activity were not limited, it would be unable to posit itself. Conse¬
quently, the original activity must be limited, if reflection is to be pos-
74 sible at all. The Not-I does not impinge upon the I; instead, it is the I
that, in the course of its expansion, impinges upon the Not-I.47
p. 279. “The ultimate ground of all reality for the I. . . . ” Nothing for¬
eign is incorporated in the I. It receives no impressions or images from
the world. What is posited in opposition to the I possesses no force48 of
its own which it could transmit to the I; instead, what is posited in op¬
position to the I is the I’s own limitation, and the reason why the I posits
something lies within the I itself. Force does not pertain originally to the
Not-I; only being does. The Not-I can initiate nothing; it is capable only
45	“Schranken.”
AA The I sees nothing but itself; it alone is the immediate object [of consciousness]. Thus
if the I is now supposed to see something outside of itself, it must intuit something else
within itself (p. 68).
46	Reading, with Krause’s MS and with H, “Richtung” for K’s “Nichtlch.”
47	“Nichtlch stößt nicht auf das Ich, sondern das Ich in seiner Ausbreitung auf Nicht¬
lch.”
48	“Kraft.”

184	§ 6
of hindering and arresting. The I cannot attain consciousness if it is not
limited. The ground of the limitation lies outside of the I, but the I pos¬
sesses within itself the ground of its activity. I am originally limited, and
a manifold of feelings is also present within me from the start. I can do
nothing to alter this fact, which conditions and makes possible my entire
being, nor can I go beyond this; this is simply the point at which I find
myself. Only if I am provided with endless time am I then free and able
to do whatever I want within this sphere.
pp. 279-80. “The Wissenschaftslehre is therefore realistic. ... a force
existing independently of them. ...” Properly speaking, what is felt is
not what is opposed to the I; instead, I feel myself to be limited, and the
existence of what is opposed to me is first inferred in order to explain
this limitation.49 The positive component in things is nothing whatso¬
ever more than that aspect of them which is related to our feelings: that
something is red is a fact that cannot be derived from anything else; but
that objects are in space and time and are related to each other in cer¬
tain specific ways is something that can indeed be deduced.
p. 280. “Notwithstanding its realism. ...” I cannot exist unless I am
limited. But what does this mean? After all, it is only as a result of my
own positing that what limits me is external to me. When I reflect upon
my own consciousness, I understand the reason why I have to be limited.
I could not be conscious of myself if I were not limited and if there
were nothing to limit me. But I posit what limits me only insofar as I am
already conscious of myself, and therefore, only insofar as I am limited.
75 The possibility of positing A is conditioned by B; but I can posit B only
if I am conscious, and thus, only if I am limited by C, etc. I am limited at
every point of consciousness; yet I can now reflect upon this fact and can
say that my limitation exists only insofar as I posit it.
p. 281. “This fact, that the finite mind must necessarily posit some¬
thing absolute beyond itself. ...” This circle is all that really limits us.
Again and again, whenever we posit within ourselves something we take
to be external to ourselves, we are then forced to seek something else
beyond what we have posited, something that is supposed to be inde¬
pendent of us, etc. A person who is not conscious of this law will con¬
clude that our own representations are all that exist. Such a person is a
transcendent idealist; whereas a person who believes that things could
exist apart from our representations is a dogmatist.
I explain something (A) by connecting it with something else (jB), etc.
I cannot grasp everything at once, for I am finite. This is what is called
“discursive thinking.” The finitude of rational beings consists in having
to explain things. With respect to its being, as well as with respect to the
determinacy thereof, the Not-I is independent of the practical I. But it is
49	“auf das Entgegengesezte wird erst als Grund der Beschränkung geschloßen.”

§6	185
dependent upon the theoretical I, for a world is present only insofar as
we posit it. When one is acting, one occupies the practical viewpoint. For
acting, the Not-I possesses independent reality; one can alter and com¬
bine objects, but cannot produce them.
[p. 282.] That “something is related to the practical power of the I”
means: it is treated as hindering the same.
p. 282. “The ultimate ground of all consciousness is an interaction of
the I with itself. ...” This means: [an interaction between] the ideal and
the real I.
{p. 282. The I is self-positing, but it cannot posit itself unless it is
constrained, without something that hinders its activity, i.e., without
a drive.}
pp. 283ff. “This relation of the thing in itself to the I forms the ba¬
sis. ...” Our grasp of the thing in itself is like our grasp of infinite
space: it becomes finite as soon as one wishes to grasp it. The thing in
itself, i.e., what actually limits us, is an Idea—namely, that I must forever
posit myself as limited.50
p. 286, nos. 1—3. “The striving of the I. . . . ” When one considers the
I by itself, all one discovers within the I is the ground of activity, but no
limitation. Considered purely in this manner, the I would become an
activity; but no striving would be engendered thereby, for striving is
possible only on the assumption that something limits the activity of
76 the I. Consequently, striving cannot be explained merely with reference
to the I.
p. 287, no. 4. The Not-I does not approach the I, but vice versa.
Therefore we do not need to assume anything more than a “being” of
the Not-I. Were we to talk about a counterstriving of the Not-I, then we
would have to ascribe an inner force or disposition to the Not-I. (We will
have more to say about this below; it is not a topic that can be dealt with
here.) Thus the Not-I should here be represented only as something
that merely “is,”51 52 and the counterstriving of the Not-I disappears. The
I is originally active and expresses its activity as widely as it can. If this
activity is arrested at even a single point, a striving is thereby engen¬
dered. The Not-I is in this case a hindrance, a dam: not a counterstriv¬
ing, but something standing in the way.52, BB
p. 287, no. 5. “Hence the forces of both must maintain an equilib¬
rium.” The I can go only as far as the Not-I permits it to go. Later on we
will see how the I is also able to penetrate the Not-I.
50	“ist eine Idee, nehmlich daß ich mich in die Unendlichkeit hinaus als beschränkt
sezen muß.”
51	“ein bloßes Seiendes.”
52	“Kein Entgegenstreben, sondern ein Entgegenstehen.”
BB The I arrives at the Not-I by means of its own activity, but the reverse of this prop¬
osition is not true, though Reinhold supposed that it was; instead, the Not-I serves, as it
were, as a dam for the I’s activity (p. 68).

186	§ 6
p. 287, § 7, no. 1. What is called “something” [in this passage] in the
book is, in the present exposition, called “that which hinders,” i.e., some¬
thing passive, to which the ideal activity is related.00
pp. 288—90. Recommended rereading. Everything that is present
within the I and happens by means of the I can be interpreted as a drive.
The ideal activity is a drive for content,53 because ideal activity is noth¬
ing apart from objects.
{pp. 289-90 and p. 291, § 8, no. 2, should also be reread.}
pp. 311-15. To be reread.
cc “Something” means: that which is capable of being the object of an ideal activity or
intuition—something that constrains the ideal activity and brings it to a halt (p. 68).
53	“ein Sachtrieb.” See § 7.

§ 7
The chief question is this: Since the Is consciousness is, in its entirety,
a consciousness of free activity, how can the I become conscious of its
own free activity ?A
We know that, prior to anything else, the I must construct for itself
a concept of its own activity, namely, a concept of its goal;B and in order
to do this, it must be given a manifold from which to make a free choice
or selection.1 This manifold is given to the I through feeling. Thus
we have already answered that portion of our question which concerns
the content or material of the I’s concept of its goal, for we have [shown
how] the I is given the material from which it constructs its concept.
The formal portion of the question still remains to be answered, how¬
ever: How does the I assemble the concept of a goal from the manifold
of feeling?
(1)	What is constructed for the purposes of self-determination, and has
to be constructed if self-determination is to be possible, is a concept;
and thus it is an object of the ideal or intuiting activity.c {(We cannot (69)
yet speak of real activity, for the concept of a future action has to be
A The chief question to be answered by our Wissenschaftslehre was the following: Since all
the Is consciousness is included within the consciousness of its own free activity, haw can the
/ become conscious of this consciousness? Or, since it is only by means of this free activity that
the I is all that it is, how does the I now become conscious of this free activity ? (p. 69).
B We found that the I exists and becomes conscious of itself only insofar as it acts.
It cannot act freely, however, unless it has previously constructed for itself a concept
thereof.
But how can the I construct such a concept for itself? (p. 69).
1	Reading, with Fuchs, “für die Wahl durch Freiheit” for K’s “durch die Wahl durch
Freiheit” (“[. . . ] a manifold through the free choice”).
c Self-determination requires something to regulate it, and this is a concept, and there¬
fore an object of the ideal activity (p. 69).
[187]

188	§7
constructed first.)} The distinction between ideal activity and feeling is
as follows: Some being has to be given to the ideal activity, a being that
is present independently of it and lies outside of it, whereas in the case
of feeling, what is real and what is ideal are one and the same. (What is
felt is the feeling subject: I feel myself; but the intuiting subject is not
what is intuited. The eye, the ideal activity, is nothing at all unless there
is something present that it copies.} The ideal activity requires an object
outside of itself, an object that fixes this activity. We are here concerned
with the concept of a goal; and in this case the object of which I form a
concept is not something that is already supposed to exist, though it
should nevertheless be something that could exist—and indeed, in con¬
formity with the concept of a goal, should exist.0 Yet even if one ab¬
stracts from this possible [future] object, there always still remains
an object of the representation. Our task here is to deduce this actual
objectivity.
According to Reinhold, the subject, the object, and the representation
are all present within consciousness.2 One first becomes conscious of a
representation [as such] through a new act of reflection. One then dis¬
tinguishes, however, between the subject and the object; thus, whether
we are dealing with something real or with something merely imagined,
the object of thinking is still distinguished from the thinking subject.
This general concept of an object should here be noted. (Even imagi- (70)
nary objects, such as Pegasus, demonstrate that some object must always
be opposed to the intuition, or ideal activity, and that the object and the
subject are distinguished from each other within the representation. By
means of the representation or act of thinking, the intuiting subject and
the intuited object are still distinct, even if the latter is something
present only within my thoughts.} This, therefore, is the [application to]
intuition of a principle that was established earlier:3 something real
must always be posited in opposition to the ideal activity, for no intuition
would be possible otherwise.
{This is the character of an intuition: An intuition, as such, is not iden¬
tical with the subject, that is, with the intuiting subject. To be sure, this
object [the intuition] can be identical with the subject in some other re¬
spect, e.g., as an action of the I; nevertheless, to the extent that the I is
engaged in acting it is not engaged in intuiting.}
D Remark: When we talk in this context about an object present external to and inde¬
pendent of the ideal activity, we are not referring to any object actually encountered within
experience; for what we are concerned with here is precisely the process of constructing a
concept that is supposed to exist [that is, to be embodied in an object] only in the future.
When, for example, I want to alter something and give it a new form, this future form is
nevertheless present for me within intuition. Sometime in the future I might actually en¬
counter this form within experience—or perhaps not (p. 69).
2	See n. 5 to § 1.
3	See § 3, sects. 3 and 4.

§7 i8g
{Therefore, if the concept of a goal is to be constructed, that is, if it is
to become an object of the ideal activity or of intuition,} the concept that
has to be constructed must be an “object”4 in the sense just described.
(2)	The material from which the ideally active subject assembles its
concept is supposed to be supplied by the manifold of feeling. But a
feeling {is not an object of the ideal activity, [it]} is nothing objective; in¬
stead, it is purely subjective. Nor is a feeling anything that can be
{intuited or} grasped conceptually,5 {and thus no concept can be con¬
structed from it}. Feeling and comprehending are opposed to each
other. The very things that are united within feeling must lie outside of
one another in the concept and in the intuition. Our present task is to
explain how the content of feeling6 can become the object of an act of
intuition or comprehension.
78	(This is a very important question, because it will lead us to the object
proper—the Not-I—and will provide us with a description of the man¬
ner in which the Not-I is constructed.
Our question could also be phrased as follows: How does the I manage
to go outside of itself? The distinctive character of the Wissenschaftslehre
is revealed in this question. {How are we supposed to accomplish the
transition from what is merely subjective—feeling—to something objec¬
tive, something that can hinder the activity of the I when it is acting?
Answer', through the productive imagination, which is simultaneously
free and constrained by laws, thanks to which the concept of its action
is at the same time also necessary.} The theory of the productive
imagination7 here obtains a new clarity and solidity. The entire sensible
world is produced by the productive imagination, in accordance with its
own specific laws.)
A feeling is not an immediate object of intuition, nor can we freely
choose to repeat a feeling, as we can repeat our representation of an ob¬
ject. A feeling is not a thing; it is not something we have to construe8 or
can describe. It is a state [of the 1]. It is nothing substantial; instead, it is
an accidental property of a substance. Nevertheless, a feeling appears to
be inseparably connected with an object, and it cannot be felt without
4	“Dieser soeben geschilderte Charakter des Objects muß dem zu entwerfenden Begriffe
zukommen.” Cp. H: “so muß auch dieser Charakter der Objectivität dem zu entwerfenden
Begrif zu kommen.”
5	“das begriffen wird.”
6	“das was Sache des Gefühls ist.”
7	The “productive imagination” (productive Einbildungskraft) plays a crucial role in Kant’s
account of the possibility of experience. It is the active power (or “faculty”) that mediates
between and unites thought (concepts) and sensation (intuitions). See the entire “transcen¬
dental deduction of the categories,” especially KRV, Ai 15-28 and B150-56, B164.
8	“kein zu construirendes.” H: “nichts construirbares” (“nothing that can be con¬
strued”).

igo §7
being related to an object.E There must be some reason why this is so,
and it is just this connection between feelings and objects which we are
going to investigate.
{By means of the reproductive9 imagination, we are able to repeat a rep- (71)
resentation connected with a feeling that we once had, and in this way
we are also able to engender a feeling—albeit only a weaker one. Thus,
to the extent that there is a necessary connection between representa¬
tion and feeling, one can start with a representation that has been freely
reproduced and proceed from there to feeling.}
(3)	I am, at the point at which we have arrived, limited; i.e., no
expression10 of activity is possible. A feeling is immediately connected
with this limitation. What is limited in this case? I am limited only inso¬
far as I attempt to engage in real activity; and thus it is only real activity
that is limited, not ideal activity. {My ideal activity cannot by any means
be so limited that it cannot express itself further; on the contrary, it ex¬
presses itself in feeling.} Consequently, if anything further is to ensue, it
must occur by means of ideal activity.
This is the point where ideal activity and real activity diverge from
each other, and where each can be described only with reference to the
other; for they stand in a reciprocal relationship to each other. The
whole, undivided I is present within feeling: we cannot see the I, but we
can feel it.F
As we just said, the ideal activity is able to extend itself further [i.e.,
beyond feeling], and this means that it does so with the freedom and
self-activity characteristic of the I. In the case of feeling, the I’s activity
cannot express itself in this manner, because it is precisely through lim¬
itation that feeling becomes feeling in the first place.
79	The intellect is directed at something independent of itself; it is sup¬
posed to manifest itself externally or to “express” itself.11 How and for
what reason? For no reason whatsoever! Intelligence is an absolute ac¬
tivity of the I; it must express itself just as soon as the conditions are
present which make it possible for it do so, and these conditions are
present whenever the real activity is curbed.0
E An objective representation is connected with a feeling, and this representation is
supposed to contain the ground of this feeling; this ground is our own reason, understood
as a necessary connection between feeling and representation (p. 71).
9	Reading reproductiven for H’s productiven (“productive”).
10	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “Aeuserung” for K’s “Anschauung.”
F In feeling, ideal and real activity are undivided; they are united and interrelated = X,
which we cannot intuit but can only feel (p. 71).
11	“sie soll sich äusern.” Though äussern means “to express,” “to utter,” “to manifest,”
etc., it is closely related to außer (“outer,” “outside,” “beyond”) and äußerlich (“external”).
In order to “express” themselves, the I’s drives must go “outside of’ the I.
GThe ideal activity is directed at something foreign, something independent of it. It ex¬
presses itself for no (external) reason, but only because it lies within the nature of the I to

The I, by nature, is a drive; thus we could interpret the ideal activity
as the product of a drive toward reflection, or a drive toward an object,
or a drive for content.* 12 Some such drive must be presupposed in order
to account for ideal activity.H A drive of this sort cannot be felt, for a
drive can be felt only to the extent that it is not satisfied; but the reflec¬
tion drive is satisfied on every hand. One must carefully distinguish this
drive from the drive to real activity, which frequently goes unsatisfied.
{Accordingly, the I is a power of intuition; it simply intuits.}13 Thus
something is intuited simply because it is intuited.
(4)	The ideal activity is a free activity, whereas, in contrast, feeling is a
passive state. But the ideal activity has previously been described as con¬
strained. What kind of freedom are we then concerned with in this case?
It is an actual instance of doing something,14 a production of something
new, something that first comes into being through this very activity.
The ideal activity is constrained, in the sense that it is not uncondition¬
ally free, but must conduct itself in accordance with certain laws. {The (72)
reason why the ideal activity posits anything at all is not contained within
this activity itself, but lies in something else.}
The ideal activity can be characterized as free only insofar as the I at¬
tributes this activity to itself. This occurs through the opposition of an
unfree state, namely, feeling.15 Thus, if the ideal activity is posited as an
act of wrenching away from a passive state of feeling, then both the op¬
position and the bond of unity between feeling and intuition are
present. No intuition would be present without feeling, and intuition
would necessarily follow from feeling. {Both must be comprised in one
and the same act of the I. That is to say, they must be simultaneously
opposed to and nevertheless united with each other; for the I cannot
posit anything except by means of its opposite, which is what makes an
intuition of the former possible. This act, in which both [intuition and
feeling] are simultaneously present in opposition to each other, is an act
of “wrenching away”—a state from which and to which transition is
made.} We would thus have here yet another application of the principle
that ideal and real activity do not exist apart from each other. In this
do so. This activity expresses itself as soon as such an expression becomes possible, that
is, as soon as the real activity is limited; thus the ideal activity is alone active [in this case]
(P- 71)-
12	“Die Natur des Ich ist ein Trieb, wir können also die ideale Thätigkeit erklären aus
einem Triebe zur Reflexion, auch Trieb nach einem Objecte, oder Sachtrieb.” A few lines
later, Fichte uses the term der Reflexionstrieb, here translated as “reflection drive.”
H In order to distinguish this drive from others, one could call it the “ideal drive,” or the
“drive of the intellect,” or the “drive toward representation” (p. 71).
13	“es schaut schlechthin an.”
14	“ein eigentliches Thun.”
15	“Dieß geschieht durch Gegensatz eines nicht freien Zustandes—des Gefühls.”

192	§7
case, the principle states that feeling and intuition do not exist apart
from each other. Feeling is something real; intuition is something ideal.
80	One advantage of this is that it prevents feeling from being omitted from
the system of the human mind; instead, feeling is shown to be necessar¬
ily connected with this system and to be a necessary component of the
same. Every individual point that has been established has to be inte¬
grated into the whole. This is what is now occurring in the case of in¬
tuition: no intuition is possible unless a feeling is posited along with it
{and vice versa}. Thus we obtain the following result:
There can be no intuition apart from feeling and no feeling apart
from intuition. They are {through the necessary opposition of freedom
and nonfreedom} synthetically united and reciprocally determinable.
An intuition is nothing unless a feeling is posited in opposition to it. The
transition from feeling to intuition {is simple and} is as follows: The ideal
activity expresses itself just as soon as it is able to do so, and whenever a
feeling is present it is able to express itself; hence it does so.
{To be sure, one can still think of a feeling apart from an intuition, for
feeling is something original, something not derived from anything else.
Ideal and real activity are joined within feeling. But there can be no con¬
sciousness of a feeling without intuition; for in consciousness feeling and
intuition separate from each other. Consciousness is bound up with in- (73)
tuition, and feeling lies at the basis of intuition—or rather, feeling pre¬
cedes intuition.}
(5)	That the situation must actually be as we have described it is a con¬
clusion that follows from its very description. If a free action of the I,
practical activity, is to be posited, then a feeling must exist, {for this is
precisely the condition for the possibility of our free action}. Feeling,
however, exercises no influence upon the other operations of reason un¬
less it is posited, but it cannot be posited except in opposition to intu¬
ition. The main question now is, How are intuition and feeling posited
in opposition to and in relation to each other? In what act {or state
(for we cannot yet say precisely whether this is an act or a state)} of the
mind are they compared with each other? (The feeling = A. The
intuition = B. Thus there must be some third thing = C, in which feel¬
ing A and intuition B are united.)
An intuition is itself immediately accompanied by a specific feeling,
[the feeling that] this intuition is related to me.1 That through which an
intuition becomes “mine” is itself a feeling. Why, one could ask, do my
thoughts, intuitions, etc., not appear to me to be movements of some¬
thing foreign to me? Why do they seem to me to be mine? {Why do we
1 The relation of the intuition to me, through which it becomes my intuition, is nothing
other than a feeling (p. 73).

§7	193
consider our representations to belong to us?} This is an important
question, {which no one has asked until now—not even Kant}. (The
Kantian synthesis of pure apperception does not attain to the level of
this question.)
My act of self-positing underlies and is thus bound up with certain
other things. The positing of myself as engaged in intuition is a feeling
of myself. Obviously, nothing more is present within this feeling of my¬
self than a feeling: I feel myself, and I feel myself to be limited. I feel
81 myself, and, to the extent that I am engaged in feeling, I am not en¬
gaged in intuiting or in thinking. I am then present for myself only in
and by means of feeling. By means of ideal activity, I am able to wrench
myself away from this limited condition of feeling, but the I that
wrenches itself away in this manner is what is limited, {for only on this
condition is the act of wrenching away possible}. Just as I must be limited
for myself {with respect to feeling}, so must I also be—for myself—the
subject that wrenches itself away16 {with respect to feeling}. All the above
concerns feeling;17 therefore, the feeling of self18 is that C which in¬
cludes within itself both feeling and intuition. It is only through this
continuous feeling of myself that feeling and intuition are syntheti¬
cally united
The act of intuiting is not felt as such, {which would be absurd}. What
is felt is the transition from limitation to intuition, that is, the act of de¬
termining oneself to engage in intuition—a self-determination that
stems from an act of reflection in which the I engages.
(6)	{We have now become acquainted with the form19 of intuition.} What
then can be present within an intuition? What is the content20 thereof?
No intuition is possible unless the practical activity is limited and
{thereby} separated from the ideal activity. The practical activity is, in
this case, canceled; but since this real activity also belongs to the I, the
ideal activity has to be related to an object, {for otherwise something (74)
would be missing from the I as a whole}.
16	“muß ich auch das loßreißende sein für mich.”
17	“Dieß ist allein Absicht des Gefühls.” This sentence makes little sense as it stands and
hence has been amended (following a suggestion by Radrizzani) by replacing the words “ist
allein” with “ist alles in.” This reading, which remains conjectural, is guided by the parallel
paragraph in H, in which the phrase “in Absicht des Gefühls” occurs twice.
18	“das Selbstgefühl.”
J By means of ideal activity, I wrench myself away from this constrained state of feeling.
Who is the I that does this? It is the limited I, for the act of wrenching away is not possible
otherwise; and to this extent the limitation with respect to feeling is present for me. Simi¬
larly, I am also, for myself, the subject that wrenches itself away with respect to feeling.
Therefore, both the intuition and the feeling are mine—thanks to my feeling of self, through
which feeling and intuition are united; and this feeling of oneself is the C we have been
seeking (p. 73).
19	“das Formale.”
20	“Materie.”

194	§7
While I am engaged in intuiting, I feel myself to be simply active {to
the extent that the feeling of self is related to this intuition}; [hence]
what is opposed to the act of intuiting has to be posited outside of me
and thus becomes a Not-I, something that merely limits.K It is only from
the philosophical viewpoint that we see that this is supposed to be the
Not-I; [considered in itself,] it is merely what limits. {In intuition,} the I
has not gone outside of itself. What I intuit is my own limited condition.
But this is not intuited as mine; it is not referred to me. I am the felt
subject of intuition, and, as such, I am active. Thus it is through limita¬
tion that the ideal activity becomes an ideal activity.
I am not what is intuited in intuition; I am the subject and not the
object of intuition. In contrast with feeling, intuiting is an activity. A
feeling of self is connected with the act of intuiting. While engaged in
the act of intuiting, I feel myself to be active. What then is the object {of
intuition}? It is nothing but feeling itself, the feeling of my own limited
state.L This limitation is not posited as my own, however. {I do not ap¬
pear within the intuition; I am merely the active subject of intuition, and
insofar as I am ideally active, I am not limited. On the other hand, only
insofar as my ideal activity is limited does it become an ideal activity at
all (appear within my consciousness). In intuition, however, I do not re¬
flect upon myself as the active subject; the limitation (that is, the object)
is not referred to me, is not treated as “mine,” but is instead treated as
something simply “in itself.” That is to say, even though I and limitation
are, as subject and object, opposed to and at the same time united with
each other within intuition, I am, nevertheless, not intuited at all. In¬
stead, my own limitation here appears as an object, as something that
limits; and it is intuited as such. But it does not appear as “my” limita¬
tion, since what sets limits cannot be referred to me, but instead appears
as something outside of me, as something limiting.} The object is [thus]
posited as something external to me; as Not-I, it is posited in opposition
82 to the I, but no notice is taken of this act of opposing;21 I do not relate
it to myself.
As was said above, it is nonsense to talk about the content [of intuition]
being given22 to the I as a whole. Nothing can be given to the I, for the
I has no “limb” 23 to which something “given” could be attached.
K Within intuition, I feel myself to be purely active, to the extent that the feeling of self
is related to the intuition; thus I am an active I. Now the object is added. This lies outside
of the intuition; and hence, insofar as intuition involves activity and insofar as the I is the
intuiting subject or is active, this object also lies outside of the I—and thus in the Not-I.
This Not-I, however, is merely something that limits; it is not something that is limited (p. 74).
L In intuition, the I does not go outside of itself; it itself is not intuited and does not
appear within consciousness. It is limited, and this limitation is the object of intuition (p. 74).
^ Reading “Entgegensetzen” for “Entegegengesezte” (“what is posited in opposition”).
22	“gegebensein des Stoffs.”
23	“kein Glied.”

§7	195
If, nevertheless, something is supposed to exist for the I, then there
must be, in addition to the general sphere within which the I encloses
itself, another, narrower one. The power for which something is present
is the intellect, which subsequently posits itself in a particular fashion as
“I.” The entire world constitutes our general sphere. Within this general
sphere, one must posit another, narrower one. If this narrower sphere is
now taken to be the I, then there is something external to the I. {The I
encloses itself; nothing foreign can enter into it. Nevertheless, the I also
discovered many other things, outside of itself, which, together with the
I, entered into this general sphere. In addition to this general sphere of
the I, the I must once again enclose itself within another, particular
sphere, so that this narrower circle would include those things that do
not belong within the wider circle of the I, inasmuch as the ideal activity
has posited itself again as an I in particular.
A
Thus, anything lying outside of sphere B would be the Not-I and, with
specific respect to B, would not belong to the I.}
The existence of such a narrower sphere {6} is now established. In in¬
tuition, the I feels itself only as active. The I’s passivity is excluded [from
the narrower sphere of the I], and, in this way, an object becomes possible.
I feel myself to be limited. I then wrench myself away from this state
of limitation. Both the act of feeling and the act of wrenching myself
away from feeling occur in the same, undivided moment. The ideal ac¬
tivity cannot be limited; thus, if the real activity is limited, this leaves
only the ideal activity, and this isolated acting is an act of intuiting.
My state becomes altered by this act of wrenching away; I become free
and active, since I am in a passive state while engaged in feeling; but,
since all this passivity still remains, it becomes an object {of intuition, (75)
and indeed, [is intuited] as an immediately given object, not as one related
to the I}. The alteration this “something” undergoes can be explained
only by my freedom in intuition.M
M The I is active in intuition and passive in feeling. When the I is considered in these two
different ways—i.e., first as passive and limited, and then again as active—then it also has
two different objects, and consequently, two different spheres. In fact, however, feeling and
intuition are synthetically united in one and the same state, and therefore they have one
and the same object: the state of limitation. Feeling and the wrenching away of the ideal
activity constitute but a single moment, for the isolated acting of the ideal activity (for this is
all that remains after it has wrenched itself away [from the passive state of feeling]) is pre¬
cisely intuition. Since all that is altered by this act of wrenching away is my own state, this

ig6 §7
Feeling and intuition are synthetically united with each other within
the same moment and within the same state; neither exists without the
other. From the philosophical viewpoint, the object of feeling is the same
as that of intuition. For the I itself, however, these are two different ob¬
jects, because the I is here considered in two different ways: On the one
hand, it is passive, and in this case it is a feeling of limitation; on the
other hand, it is active, and what is felt in this case is the object. In short,
the intuition is the same as what is felt; but insofar as this is an object of
intuition it does not remain something merely felt, but instead becomes
something intuited, something “seen,” something that is not referred to
the I—only in the concept is it once again referred to the I.24
83 In this way we can also explain the synthetic unification of the pred¬
icates derived from feeling with those derived from intuition—which is
otherwise inexplicable. I taste something sweet and posit the existence of
a piece of sugar, and then I say, “The sugar is sweet.” A feeling is here
transferred to an object of intuition, and the two are united with each
other in the same moment. {The object is not felt to be sweet; instead, (76)
what I actually feel to be sweet is myself. I feel that an object is present
only insofar as I am engaged in intuiting.}
In this situation, the I itself is only felt and is not intuited; therefore,
no act of intuiting appears, as such, within consciousness. In intuition,
the I loses itself in the object of intuition, or, as Kant puts it, “intuition
is blind.”25 Accordingly, in intuition something hovers immediately be¬
fore me.26 I do not ask whence it comes; the object simply happens to be
there. This is how the object appears within the act of intuiting, but this
act of intuiting does not appear {as such} within consciousness; and, for (75)
this reason, when viewed from the ordinary standpoint, the object can
be said to be immediately present.N This is the way objects originally
passivity—this limited state—becomes an object of intuition, and indeed, as an immediately
given object, not as one related to the I (p. 75).
24	The translation here follows Fuchs’s suggestion, and contrues “B” in this sentence as
an abbreviation for Begriff (“concept”), rather than—as elsewhere in K—for Beumsstsein
(“consciousness”). See the dictat to § 8, where “the concept” is defined as “an intuition ac¬
companied by a consciousness of the intuiting subject.”
25	KRV, A51/B75. What Kant actually says in this celebrated passage, of course, is that
“thoughts without content are empty; intuitions without concepts are blind.”
26	“schwebt mir etwas unmittelbar vor.” The verb sich vorschweben normally means “to en¬
tertain the thought of something” or “to have something in mind” and conveys a certain
sense of vagueness, as in the phrase “to have a notion.” Though Fichte frequently employs
this term in its ordinary sense, he also exploits the root meaning of the verb schweben (“to
hover” or “to oscillate”) to give a semitechnical meaning to this common expression. He
then employs it to designate the way in which an intuition, without being related to the I
or to any other intuitions (and thus without being assigned any particular spatial position),
occupies the attention of the intuiting subject as something distinct from the latter. In
these cases, vorschweben is here translated, somewhat awkwardly, as “to hover before” (one’s
consciousness).
N In its striving, the I is limited to this feeling or that, and it cannot have any feeling
without an intuition—though the I is not posited as intuiting, that is, the intuition is not

§7	197
present themselves within consciousness. Any philosophy that denies
this is groundless.
(Jacobi* 27 calls such an object “an immediate revelation,” and in some
ways he has understood it better than any other philosopher. His only
error is that he posits this object to be something that is “revealed” apart
from any relationship to our reason. This is not what it is; instead, the
philosopher shows how this immediate revelation is connected with a
feeling.}
This is, in fact, how we arrive at objects: A feeling is present within us;
we are limited, and from this limitation we infer the existence of some¬
thing outside of us which limits us. But this entire process occurs imme¬
diately.
In feeling, I discover myself to be limited; but I cannot feel without
intuiting, and an object is immediately present for intuition. The same
determinations [of consciousness which were present in feeling] are sub¬
sequently present when the object is treated as something that affects us
from without, but such determinations first appear only when the object
is already present. The “something” that hovers before the intuiting sub¬
ject is, in this case, neither an image nor a thing. It is there without any
relation to us. Neither image nor thing, but both at once, it is subse¬
quently divided into the image on the one hand and the thing on the
other. It is the raw material28 for both, an incomprehensible “some¬
thing” with no relation to us. Within ordinary consciousness, we too af¬
firm the immediate presence of things.
related to the I; the I is not conscious of its activity, but loses itself in its object (or, as Kant
says, the intuition is blind): for these reasons, the I is forced to posit something immediate,
something opposed to and independent of the I, a Not-I that is not related to the I and to
which it ascribes the character of “being.”
The object of intuition is a feeling, but it is a feeling as something intuited, and not as
something related to the I. An intuition is simply something hovering immediately before
the I. The I does not ask whence it comes; it is simply there for the I. Its intuition does not
appear, as such, within consciousness; instead, since the I is limited in its feelings, and since
it is thereby engaged in intuiting, the object appears to it as something immediately given.
The I infers that something limiting exists beyond itself (p. 75).
27	Friedrich Heinrich Jacobi (1743-1819) was a well-known novelist and essayist, as
well as the author of several profoundly original philosophical treatises, in which he at¬
tacked philosophy in general and transcendental idealism in particular as “nihilism.”
Against the claims of speculative philosophy, Jacobi defended the necessity of “faith” or
“belief’ in every area of human life and expounded his own version of “direct realism.”
Fichte’s reference is presumably to a passage on p. 51 of Jacobi’s 1787 “Dialogue,” David
Hume iiber den Glauben oder Idealismus und Realismus, in which Jacobi notes that the honest
realist bases his position upon nothing more than “the fact that things stand before
him” and adds: “Can he find a more appropriate word to express himself than the
word ‘revelation’? Indeed, isn’t it precisely here that one should look in order to dis¬
cover the root of this word and the origin of its use?” Unavailable for nearly two centuries,
the first edition of this important work has recently been republished in a photo¬
mechanical reprint edition with an English introduction by Hamilton Beck (New York:
Garland, 1983).
28	“der Urstoff.”

198	§7
At this point, we cannot characterize the intuition any further than as
follows: It is something that hovers before the I. To the extent that it can
be related to the intuiting subject, but not to the I as a whole, it is “Not-
84	I,” inasmuch as it is something positive which brings activity to a halt.29
It can be characterized as a “being,” for it transforms the entire activity
of the I into ideal activity.
The object is not felt; it exists only insofar as I am engaged in intuit¬
ing, and what I feel in the act of intuiting is myself.
(7)	Our task is to explain how a concept of a goal is possible, or at least
to explain the possibility of an intuition that could supply the material
required for {the construction of} such a concept. Intuition of the sort (76)
discussed so far can only be the intuition of an actual object, for it is
based upon a feeling of limitation. How then can there be an intuition of
a possible object, as opposed to an actual one? What is there within feeling
to which such an intuition {of a purely possible object} could be attached?
{Once again, it is through opposition that this intuition of a purely
possible object is to be deduced.}
{I feel myself to be limited in my striving.} I cannot Teel myself to be
limited without at the same time feeling myself to be striving, for my
striving is precisely what is limited. Consequently, a feeling of striving, of
{inner} impetus, must also be present. The feeling of limitation is, ac¬
cordingly, conditioned by the feeling of striving, {and, in turn, this feel¬
ing of striving is nothing without limitation}; only together do they
constitute a complete feeling. {Something twofold is thus present within
every true feeling: Limitation means nothing by itself; nor does striving
have any significance by itself Limitation and striving must be connected
with each other.} Here we originally discover a bond between different
things within the I, a bond grounded in the very content [of
consciousness].30 The theoretical sphere can easily be derived from the
feeling of limitation and the practical sphere from the feeling of striving.
Since they are both originally connected with each other, they cannot
subsequently be separated, and this is the ultimate reason why there can
be no theory apart from practice.
The object of the previously described type of intuition is something
that limits, something that exists; but every being negates something
else. There is nothing limiting without something limited; no being
without something that is canceled by this being.
{The intuition of a possible object is now to be posited in opposition to
this intuition of an actual one, and they will be deduced in this way. The
chief difficulty, however, lies in the fact that the proper character of in¬
29	“etwas positives haltendes.”
30	“eine in der Sache gegründete Verbindung.”

§7	199
tuition cannot be renounced in our inquiry.} Though the proper char¬
acter of intuition cannot be canceled, we nevertheless have a propensity
to do just this; for intuitions are never present in ordinary conscious¬
ness, within which only concepts appear. {For an intuition by itself is
nothing whatsoever; and yet intuition is here supposed to be posited
purely in and for itself, in accordance with its proper character, that is,
without any concept and without being posited as a determinate state of
the I.}
What is canceled by the being of the object is not the activity of the I.
No I is posited in intuition, {which is concerned with nothing whatsoever
but a “something,” with a content apart from any subject}; the I disap¬
pears into the object. Intuition is directed at an object, and thus what is
85 excluded by what exists is also an object; it is the ideal,31 which, as such,
is the object of an intuition.
{The possibility of an intuition, or, more correctly, the intuition of a
possible object, as opposed to an actual one, occurs because the object of
an actual intuition is something that exists,32 something that limits—or,
more precisely, it is the limited state of the I.
Something else, another object, is excluded by this [actual] object,
which therefore cannot be posited apart from something else that is can- (77)
celed by the being of the actual object.}
The object of the previously described intuition [namely, an actual ob¬
ject] is something that limits, a limitation of the I. But the limited con¬
dition of the I cannot be posited as such, for the I itself is not present
within intuition. The object is something that simply hovers before the
intuition, a mere object without a subject. Something is supposed to be
posited in opposition to this object, something that negates it. This is
therefore an object in the fullest sense of the word, i.e., something to
which the ideal activity is related; but it must also be something that
does not exist, something that can explain striving.0 {Such an object is
not; i.e., it is not an actual object, not an object that exists—precisely be¬
cause it is posited in opposition to what exists. Such an object can be said
to exist only in relation to striving.} This {object of intuition} is the ideal.
(8)	{We thus now have two types of intuition, or rather, two types of ob¬
jects for intuition: (1) the object of striving, and (2) the determinate
31	“das Ideal.”
32	“ein Seyendes.”
0 The actual object of intuition is thus something limiting. What then is it that is limited,
that is canceled by the being of the actual object? This is not the I, since the I does not
appear within intuition at all and is by no means posited, but rather disappears therein.
Instead, since intuition, in accordance with its very character, is directed only upon an ob¬
ject, then it follows that what is excluded by the actually existing object must also be an
object; for intuition is supposed to occur, and nothing can be opposed to this intuition but
an object, to which the ideal activity is related (p. 77).

200 § 7
object.} What then is the distinction between these two objects, the one
that explains limitation and the one that explains striving? They are sim¬
ilar in that both are objects of intuition {and both acquire the character
of “objectivity”}. What distinguishes them is this: The former is a deter¬
minate object; the ideal activity is here constrained in combining the
manifold. The object of striving, on the other hand, is a determinable
object; the ideal activity is here completely free to combine the manifold
in any way it wishes. The latter33 only sets us a task, i.e., the task of pos¬
iting something—and indeed, positing something in opposition to the
former object, for the I is limited by the first object. In both cases, how¬
ever, the ideal activity is similarly constrained.
Without settling the question of whether the feeling of limitation is a
simple feeling or might instead be a combination of several different
feelings, it is nevertheless clear from what has already been said that ev¬
ery feeling is indeed divisible with respect to its intensity34 and that ev¬
erything contained within intuition is, as it were, infinitely divisible,
though such a division is not [actually] possible in the case of an intuition
of a determinate object, for such an intuition is directed at something
given, {which cannot be freely divided, because its object—and therefore
the degree of feeling as well—is determinate}. In contrast, such division
is possible in the case of a determinable object, and it must be posited as
such, in opposition to the former object. In this latter case, {the ideal
activity is not constrained in combining the manifold, for} we are merely
assigned the task of positing something; since no content of feeling is
given, our task in this case is {only} to search for a feeling. We will see
below how a feeling can be found.
This latter intuition [the intuition of a possible object] is empty. It is a
free act of oscillating or hovering over the {infinite} manifold—a man¬
ifold with which the I is familiar only by means of its striving.35 It is an
intuition of the task of positing an object, {which, however, cannot be
explained. It is nothing more than a link for our future series of
thoughts.}
{Similar to this is the concept of the ideal.) The concept of the ideal is an
“Idea.”36 An Idea is a concept of something that cannot be compre¬
hended at all, e.g., the concept of spatial infinity. This appears to involve
a contradiction, which can be resolved as follows: No concept of the ob¬
ject in question is possible {since, as soon as I try to think about it, it
becomes finite before my very eyes}; we can, however, form a concept of
33	Reading, with H, “letzte” for K’s “erste” (“former”).
34	“der Intension nach.” Fichte appears to employ the terms Grade (“degree”) and In¬
tension (“intensity”) interchangeably.
35	Reading “Streben” for K’s “Schweben” (“oscillating” or “hovering”), a reading sug¬
gested by the otherwise virtually identical passage in H. Without this change, the passage
would read: “ . . . with which the I is familiar only by means of its act of hovering.”
36	“eine Idee.” See n. 6 to the “First Introduction,” p. 79.

§ 7 201
the rule in accordance with which a concept of this object could be pro¬
duced as a result of an infinitely prolonged process of advance. E.g., in
the case of infinite space: {one can indeed begin to think about it, and it
can be expanded ever further; but one cannot think of the infinity
itself}. Every space that can be grasped is finite, and this is why we sim¬
ply attend to what we would have to do if we wished to grasp an infinite
space. If we abstract from the rule in question {(or from the individual
acts of intuition)}, then we are left with nothing but the {advance, the
expansion, the} quest, and this is the object of intuition with which we
are here concerned: {the ideal}.
(9)	In the course of developing our philosophy, we ourselves have now
opposed these two types of intuition to each other. Now, however, an¬
other question arises: How does the original I think of this? How does it
posit these two intuitions in opposition to each other? While it is en¬
gaged in intuiting, the I merely feels itself (see above). Intuition is di¬
rected entirely at the object {through which the I feels itself therein}. In
the intuition of what limits, the I feels itself {or feels its ideal activity} to
be limited; in the intuition of what is ideal, it discovers itself to be free.
{What does this mean?}
Simply by virtue of the fact that it has an object, the ideal activity is
always limited. Nevertheless, despite its limitation, it remains an activity,
an inner act of forming images, an act of producing something within
itself, an act of internal self-intuition.37 In the first case [that is, in the
case of an actual object], the ideal activity is limited with regard to the
concept it is supposed to construct; in the second case [that is, in the case
of a possible object], it is entirely free: no object or rule is given, but only
a task. In intuition, therefore, the I feels itself to be partly limited and
partly free.p
The I cannot feel itself to be limited, however, without also feeling it¬
self to be free—and vice versa. Each of these two states is determinable
only with reference to the other. {In order to have an intuition I must
feel myself to be free and limited at the same moment.} Neither feeling can
be separated from the other. {The synthetic union of both intuitions fol¬
lows, in turn, from this.} Both intuitions, that of a determinate object
37	“inneres Bilden, ein Machen in sich, ein innerliches sichanschauen.”
p The ideal activity is always limited by the fact that it posits an object. It is free only as
an inner acting or as an act of forming images—an activity that can only be intuited.
[In the case of an intuition of a determinate object] the ideal activity is limited and has
to intuit the object just as it is. Nevertheless, its activity remains an inner acting, an intu¬
iting of itself as active.
[In the case of an intuition of an ideal object] the ideal activity is not limited. It can con¬
struct any possible image; no object is present for it which it has to intuit. Nothing is
present but a task. Thus, in this case, the I feels itself to be free (p. 78).

202 § 7
and that of the ideal, are necessarily united with each other; neither is
possible apart from the other.
Feeling has here been derived as the fundamental state, with which
everything else must be connected. Feeling is the first, immediate object
87 of our reflection. The I feels itself, and indeed, it feels itself as a whole;
but, as we know, the I is both practical and ideal, and it is through feeling
that the practical I and the ideal I are now first separated from each
other. The I first feels itself to be practical; in fact, this is the immediate
feeling, {the feeling x«t e^oyriv,}38 within which the feelings of limita- (79)
tion and striving are united. But the I feels itself in its entirety; thus it
also feels itself to be ideal, and, to this extent, it feels itself to be engaged
in intuiting—within which intuition, once again, limitation and striving
must be united,Q and four different elements are again present: a feel¬
ing of limitation, a feeling of striving, an intuition of a determinate ob¬
ject, and an intuition of the ideal. {All these are absolutely present
alongside one another and are synthetically united within the human
mind. For feeling is united with intuition: I feel myself as a whole, and
therefore it is not only my real activity that is limited; my ideal activity is
limited as well. But what is ideal is intuition. Furthermore, no feeling of
limitation is possible apart from a feeling of striving, and thus, neither
can there be any intuition of a determinate object without an intuition of
the ideal, i.e., without any relationship to our own efficacy. If activity
were not canceled or limited, then we could never perceive or intuit any
object.} These four elements are necessarily united; none of them can
exist apart from the others. Later on we will see that other elements
must be added to these.
§7
An intuition is necessarily connected with every feeling; for feeling is
limitation, but a limitation that is not opposed to an activity is nothing.
That within the I which necessarily remains an activity, however, is its
ideal power. The point of union between feeling and intuition is this:
even as the I feels itself39 to be limited (in its real aspect), it also feels
itself to be engaged in intuiting (in its ideal aspect). To the extent that
intuition is directed at the limitation, this limited state of the I becomes
38	“par excellence.”
QThe I also feels itself to be active idealiter, however, and, to this extent, engaged in
intuiting—within which limitation and the quest or striving for an object must be united
(P- 79)-
39	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “Ich, selbst” for K’s “Ich sich.”

§ 7	203
a mere object, with no relation to a subject, and the intuition is felt to be
constrained in the depiction of the object. A feeling of this sort, however,
is impossible apart from an opposed feeling of freedom; consequently,
the intuition is also, in another respect, felt to be free, and to this extent
it is an intuition of the ideal.

87
§ 8
{What we have said so far is not enough to complete our task of [ac- (80)
counting for] the possibility of constructing a concept of a goal, since we
have not yet established the possibility even of what was presented in the
preceding §. What was said there cannot even support itself yet—to say
nothing of anything else.} In the preceding §, intuition was shown to be
necessary, and the ground of this necessity was explained as well. In the
act of intuition, however, the I loses itself in its object. {There we were
dealing with intuition as such, apart from any relationship to a subject.
What is still lacking, therefore, is any proof of the I. Haw can it consciously
88 posit itself?} How is a concept of free acting still possible? Or, how is it
possible for the I to exist for itself? {This question coincides with the pre¬
vious task of determining how it is possible to construct a concept of a
goal.} Thus we must now investigate the I further and must show how
the {preceding} intuition must be related to the I, that is, how the I must
be present for itself.
(i)	According to what has already been said, there is {necessarily} a man¬
ifold of feeling; but a feeling is a specific limitation, and it is impossible
for the I {at one and the same moment of time} to feel itself to be limited
in a certain respect and also to feel itself to be not limited in this same
way—which is just what would happen if a multiplicity of feelings were
to be present within the I in one and the same respect. The I would be
limited and not limited in one and the same way; it would be opposed to
itself and {no limitation,} no reality (material content),1 would remain.
{For the feelings that make up the manifold of feelings are opposed to
each other: I cannot have, for example, a feeling of sweet at the same
time I am having a feeling of sour. Otherwise, the I would lose its iden¬
tity. Thus the manifold can be unified only if the various feelings are
1	“Stoffheit.”
[ 204 ]

§ 8 205
present in various different ways.} Accordingly, such a manifold of feel¬
ing can be thought of only in terms of an alteration in the state of the
feeling subject. (This manifold cannot be simultaneous; it must be succes¬
sive {—which is also how it actually exists—}, though this will become
clear only when we reach the deduction of time.)2 {The manifold must
therefore be present not in any single way, but in a variety of different
ways, that is, as a variety of different alterations in the state of the I.}
How then is such an alteration in the state of the feeling subject possi¬
ble? So far we have seen that the I is originally enclosed within certain
limits, and from this a world arises for the I. The I is absolutely free to
expand these limits {through its self-determination}, and, in doing this,
it alters its state and thereby alters its world. However, since we have not
yet provided a deduction of the possibility of this free self-determination,3
this cannot be the type of alteration that concerns us at present.A
Could the state of our limitation, along with the world corresponding
thereto, perhaps alter themselves on their own? This is hardly to be ex¬
pected, for it is the character of the world merely to “be” and not to be¬
come; it initiates no action. Instead, the situation must be as follows:
Some principle of alteration must already be present within our very na¬
ture, i.e., within our determinate state—as is the case with plants and
animals, {within which alterations also occur. Thus, before I can alter (81)
myself by means of an act of self-determination, I must already have
been altered. There must therefore exist some sort of intermediary
thing, which we call “nature,” some sort of force or principle of activity,4
by means of which I alter myself independently of my freedom and with¬
out any consciousness of my self-determination. Could this turn out to be
the cause of the alteration in question?} Later on we will see that some¬
thing of this sort is indeed the case.5
■ Be this as it may, at this point I may ascribe no more than hypothet¬
ical validity to this postulate of alteration. However, if it should turn out
to be the case that consciousness can be explained only through such an
assumption and cannot be explained without it, I would then have the
right to postulate it categorically. {In the meantime, however, we may
certainly not deny that we are here, once again, assuming something un¬
proven and allowing a gap to remain.}
2	See below, § 12.
3	See the deduction of willing in § 13.
A But is this alteration something the I can freely accomplish?
We cannot yet answer this question. We are now only at the point of deriving the pos¬
sibility of freedom and of explaining the possibility of self-determination; indeed, we will
be using this alteration [in the state of the I] to make freedom comprehensible.
A free alteration (produced by the I) does indeed take place, but we are not here con¬
cerned with this alteration, for then we would find ourselves caught up in the following
circle: I am free, because I alter my state; and I alter my state, because I am free (p. 81).
4	“eine Krafft, Princip thatig zu sein.”
5	See below, remark A to sect. 6 of this §.

2o6	§ 8
(2)	An alteration thus occurs in the state of the I. Accordingly, two dif-
89 ferent feelings, A and B, must be present (both of which are mere feel¬
ings of limitation). In the previous § we found that a number of things
necessarily follow simply as a consequence of feelings as such, and thus
all these same things must here follow in consequence of feelings A and
B. Since feeling A and feeling B are different, however, their conse¬
quences must also be different.8 This opens up for us an important
prospect, one that reveals more to us concerning the inner workings of
the human mind.
{Remark: The term “feeling” is always employed here to signify the
mere feeling of determinacy; therefore, it is to be distinguished from the
feeling referred to as “X” in the previous §.}
For the time being, we will concern ourselves with the problem of how
these two different feelings are united within consciousness. This will
lead us further.
We raised a similar question in § 6, above: How can a manifold or mul¬
tiplicity of feelings be related to and distinguished from one another? In
the course of our previous discussion, we answered this question insofar
as it concerns the matter or content [of feeling], but not insofar as the
form of the same is concerned.6 {Here we are concerned not with the
union of the two states with respect to their content, but rather with a
union with respect to their form, that is, with the comparison and union of (82)
these two states within consciousness. The question is this: To what within con¬
sciousness are they supposed to be attached?} In what way are these two dif¬
ferent states united? When I talk about “feeling A," I make reference to
my entire state; and this is equally true of feeling B. In each case, my
own state forms a single, complete whole—though, in the one case,
feeling A is subtracted from this whole, and, in the other case, feeling B
is subtracted. This provides me with the thread to which both A and B
are attached, but to what do I attach this thread itself? We have [discov¬
ered] what would bind this state fast, but not how this would be
accomplished.7,c
B Every alteration, however, presupposes the presence of two different feelings, A and B,
and thus presupposes the feeling of a manifold. But no feeling is anything determinate
unless some other feeling is posited in opposition to it; therefore, whenever a single feeling
is present, a manifold is present as well. But since feelings are different, what arises out of
them (i.e., intuitions) must also be different, which is just how we described such a state in
the previous § (p. 81).
6	“Dieß hat die materiale Schwierigkeit gelöst, aber nicht die formale.”
7	“dann habe ich einen Faden, woran ich A und B festhalte; aber woran halte ich diesen
Faden fest[?] wir haben ein was aber kein wie, das diesen Zustand fest hält.”
c We have already explained (in § 6) how it is possible to unite two different feelings—
insofar as their content is concerned. We already have the “what,” but how this union oc¬
curs is something that still remains to be explained (p. 82).

§ 8 207
(3)	One should view the union in question here as a union of opposed
feelings A and B, or as a union of opposed states of the I. The entire
system of sensibility cannot be felt, for it is nothing positive, but is
merely a relationship, {a movement of transition from one [state of feel¬
ing] to the other. Considered in themselves, these two states have nothing
in common with each other, for they are posited in opposition to each
other. The only thing they have in common is the I. They adjoin each
other at their boundaries, and they can do this only because they are
posited in opposition to each other, i.e., because they are [two moments
of] a single alteration.} As we have already discovered above, however, an
activity of the I can be intuited only as a movement of transition from a
determinable to a determinate state. Therefore, one could also say that
nothing pertaining to the I is intuitable except the transition [from one
of its states to another]. Consequently, this particular transition [from A
to B], which cannot be felt, since it is nothing positive, could perhaps be
intuited. We do not yet know how—or even if—such an intuition is pos¬
sible, however. We know only that it cannot be felt. Nevertheless, if any
movement of transition is to be present at all, it must exist for the I.D
■ Let us now, albeit in a provisional manner, make this description
somewhat more precise. Here, as above {in § 6}, we referred to “a gen¬
eral system of sensibility as such.” What is this? It is not the same thing
as the feelings themselves, for it is precisely from this system that these
feelings must be distinguished; and indeed, it is only by being distin¬
guished from and related to this system that feelings first become pos¬
sible for the I at all. Consequently, the system of sensibility would be
[another name for] the “alterability” or “affectability” of the I—and in¬
deed, its alterability or affectability as a system, as something exhaustive
and whole, something that constrains the ideal activity {and [thus be¬
comes] a possible object for it}. The system of sensibility would thus be
the sum total of all possible alterations, but only insofar as the form of
these alterations is concerned, apart from all content. {A feeling is
merely something that is felt, something that cannot be described and is
possible only through the system of sensibility. This system is originally
present for me in advance of all feelings. It is a continuously advancing
line, along which the individual feelings are connected with one another.
What then can be contained within this system of sensibility? It cannot
contain the content of sensibility, for this is nothing but alteration itself,
without any reference to the I;8 instead, the system of sensibility con¬
tains the formal aspect of sensation, as something that limits the ideal
activity and is its object. Therefore, this system is a mere concept or Idea,
D Therefore, this movement of transition must exist for the I, if an intuition of its own
activity is also supposed to occur herein (p. 82).
8 “ohne Beziehung für das Ich.”

208 § 8
and is consequently something incomprehensible, for it neither alters
nor is altered.} (This system will eventually prove to be our body, un¬
derstood as a system of affectability and spontaneity, though at this
point we are concerned only with affectability.)E
The whole [system of sensibility] is made up of nothing but relations,
and yet it is supposed to be something; this is implicit in the nature of
ideal activity/ and our primary task is to explicate the productive power
of the ideal activity—to show, for example, that matter is extended in
space and that this matter is nothing other than a relationship to our
sensation.
We have reached the point where the system of our sensibility comes
into being for us. This system of sensibility is explained by our present
presupposition (that our feelings are intuited), just as, in turn, the ex¬
istence of this system supports our presupposition.0
{Above, in § 6, we discovered that every feeling is indirectly accompa- (83)
nied by other feelings, and this occurs by means of the system of sensi¬
bility, or by means of a comparison with the enduring state of the I as a
whole.
How did we come by this system? It was not given to us; instead, we
inferred that there had to be something lying between the two feelings,
A and B, something through which they are united. This could not be
another feeling, since it lies between and mediates both feelings. Thus it
must be an intuition = X.
Consequently, this intuition X would be an intuition of alteration.} An
alteration from A to B is intuited, and thus it is something determinate.
But there is nothing determinate apart from something determinable;
accordingly, no alteration can be intuited apart from alterability, {and
this is precisely the system of sensibility—and in this way the postulate
that was previously propounded only problematically would now be
deduced}. But if “alterability” is to be something for us, then it can only
be something we assemble from the intuition of several alterations.
This particular intuition (which we now call “intuition X”) is different
from the intuition presented in the previous §. It is not just any intuition
or intuition “as such”; it is the intuition of a movement of transition.
As surely as anything is intuited at all, an object hovers before the in¬
tuiting subject, an object that acquires its “objectivity” from the fact that
an intuition is referred to it. Consequently, the alterability we are dis¬
cussing already becomes “something” here, precisely because an intu-
E Nevertheless, this system of sensibility is very important, for from it we will derive our
body, as the system of our affectability and spontaneity (p. 82).
FThe system of sensibility consists in nothing but relations to our various sensations;
nevertheless, thanks to our productive power or ideal activity, this [system as a] whole is
transformed into “something” (p. 82).
G The presupposition of a movement of transition from alteration to alterability as such
is the point of origin of this system of sensibility (p. 83).

§ 8 2og
ition is directed at it. (The system of our alterability is our body. This is
certainly something and must be extended in space, which occurs only
by means of intuition.) Intuition X is an intuition of the I itself. The feel¬
ing subject would now be identified with the system of sensibility;9 the I
endures throughout every feeling. X would be the intuition of the I,
which discovers itself as an object within this intuition.H
{Our standpoint is now that of intuition X, within which the unifica-
91 tion [of feelings A and 5] occurs.} For the present, let us simply ignore
the content of this intuition and seek to determine its form, along with
whatever is connected with the latter.
(4)	Let us now display the individual components of intuition X.
{A} First of all, it follows from what was said above that, whenever the
I engages in intuition, it possesses a feeling of itself {as the intuiting
subject}. It is through this feeling of myself that an intuition first be¬
comes my intuition (See previous §). Since this is true of all intuition, it
is also true of intuition X. I feel myself to be the intuiting subject; I do
not intuit myself to be the intuiting subject, for in the act of intuiting,
the I loses itself in the object. What is intuited in X is the I itself, which
is at the same time the feeling subject within this intuition. Both {the
intuited object and the feeling subject} are thus one and the same. What is
the source of this identity {of subject and object}? How does it appear
within consciousness?
{B} {Furthermore, how is this object distinguished from intuition X
(= the I)?} Finally, how is intuition X itself intuited? That is, as what is
the I intuited in this case? According to the previous §, all we can say in
answer to this question is that the I is here intuited as intuiting Y {Thus
we would here have two intuitions: I intuit myself (= intuition X) as in-
tuiting (= K).}
■	{C} The I feels itself to be the intuiting subject (previous §). {In the
previous § we also spoke of an intuition of something that limits: intuition
Y, without which there is no intuition at all. But now another question
has arisen: How does this intuition become mine? This occurs only in¬
sofar as I feel myself to be an intuiting subject.} Self-feeling transforms
itself at this point into self-intuition. {I intuit myself as the intuiting sub¬
ject. The intuiting subject is itself intuited.}
■	What can the object of intuition X be? In the case of intuition Y, I
am, in relationship to some thing, the intuiting subject. I am now sup¬
posed to observe this intuiting subject. How is this possible? It cannot be
9	“Es wäre nun das fühlende im System der Sensibilitaet erschöpft.”
H This system [of sensibility] would thus be the feeling subject that is present in every
feeling, that which endures throughout all alteration—i.e., the I. Consequently, what
would come into being for us through intuition X would be the I. In X, the I discovers
itself. Here the I itself becomes an object for the first time (p. 83).

210 § 8
done immediately (previous §). Intuition X is supposed to unite the
opposed feelings A and B. Accordingly, its object must be something
common to both feelings; since we are dealing with an alteration in the
state [of the I], however, there must be something that endures through¬
out this alteration. Feelings as such contain nothing that endures in this
way, for A and B are opposed to each other, {[and] if A is present then B (84)
is simply not present for me at all. What then is it that endures? Accord¬
ing to ordinary common sense, the feeling subject is and remains always
the same. But we first wish to investigate how we arrive at a feeling
subject.} No feeling subject is present at all within feeling A or B, for ev¬
ery feeling is something determinate, whereas a feeling subject, that is,
a subject that does nothing whatsoever but feel, is nothing determinate.
From what has already been said, it follows that nothing endures ex¬
cept the active subject, and indeed, the subject that acts idealiter. There¬
fore, the object of intuition X must be the ideally active subject—and
indeed, {we must posit it} as such, for we are acquainted with it in no
other way. {For something external to the intuiting subject—something
that hovers before it and is present without any assistance from the in¬
tuiting subject—is always posited in opposition to the act of intuition;
and thus it is only by being related to an object that any intuition first
comes into being.} But how can this ideally active subject become an ob¬
ject of intuition?
All experience consists of constantly changing alterations. What then
92 could be the origin of anything enduring that could appear among these
appearances?1
This enduring something is nothing other than the I that continues to
entertain representations throughout all changes, the {idealiter} acting
subject. It does not appear as such, however; instead, since it appears
within intuition, it appears to be something objective. This is how it ap¬
pears within intuition X. Moreover, I must intuit myself, since I unite
within myself the opposed feelings A and B, and this intuition would
provide me with the background against which I could display feelings A
and B.10, J {Thus, in intuition X, the I intuits itself, but not as it is in itself;
instead, it intuits itself objectively, as active. In order for activity to be
intuitable as such, it has to be fixed, and this occurs in [feelings] A and
B, or in intuition Y, where the I appears as continually active. The two
feelings, A and B, can therefore be united only through intuition of the
I.} But the difficulty still remains: How can activity be intuited as such?
I	Where then can intuition X obtain an enduring substrate, which appears as enduring
in all appearances? (p. 84).
10	“würde mir den Boden geben, auf den ich A und B auftragen könnte.”
J And this objectivity of the I, which is present whenever the I acts, is the foundation of
everything that appears for the I, the ground11 of all objectivity (p. 84).
II	“der Boden.”

§ 8 211
In intuition X, the I intuits itself as the subject that is active in feelings A
and B, and this result continues to present us with a problem.
(5)	The activity attributed to the I in intuition X is certainly, as such, a
specific or determinate activity; for what is attributed to the I in this case
is intuition Yy and the latter is something that limits the I as such. {Thus (85)
here too [that is, in X] the I is intuiting in a determinate way, and thus
a determinate activity would here be present as well.} Expressed briefly,
what we have presupposed is that, in intuition X, I intuit myself as in¬
tuiting Y; consequently, I should discover myself to be the same I in both
these intuitions, {[for] I am the same intuiting subject in both,} and
therefore, there must be some third thing in which X and Y are united.
{Or, since intuiting is simply an internal observation of the image¬
forming subject, how is it that I claim to observe myself, and why do I
claim that it is I who form these images? That is to say, why do I call the
subject that forms these images “I”?12
The first question—namely, how, in the case of intuition X, does this
become my intuition? How can I claim to be observing myself?—presents
fewer difficulties than the second. [In answering the former] we have
already been assisted by self-feeling: I feel myself to be the intuiting sub¬
ject in X.}
{The second question was, How does intuition Y also become my in¬
tuition? Or, how can I claim that, in the intuition of an image, / am, at
the same time, the subject that forms or entertains this image ? Or why is the
subject that intuits Y the same as the subject that intuits X? Reply: be¬
cause neither is possible apart from the other.}
Intuition X becomes mine by means of an immediate {self-}feeling.
This, however, is not true of intuition Y, which is mediated by X, and
would therefore have to be connected to X, if Y is to be my intuition.
Intuition Y would necessarily have to be included within intuition X as a
necessary component of the same, and in such a way that X and Y could
not be separated from each other, and Y would have to be felt by means
of X. {In short, [knowledge of the identity of the intuiting subject in X
and in Y would be made possible only] through the necessary connec¬
tion and unification of both in some third thing, i.e., in self-feeling. More
specifically: Insofar as the real activity of the I (or the “real I”) is limited,
a feeling arises. But the ideal activity remains; it tears itself free and sep¬
arates itself from the real activity, and in this way there arises an intu¬
ition of the limitation in question (that is, intuition Y), which is the sort
of intuition discussed in the previous §.} This could occur only in the
following way: In Y, the ideal activity would be limited in a particular
12	“Oder da anschauen so viel ist als ein inneres Zusehen des Bildenden—wie kommts
denn daß ich behaupte, daß ich mir zusehe u. daß ich bilde oder warum ist das Bildende
Ich?”

212 § 8
manner, through which it would be constrained to form one particular
image and no other,13 {that is, it would have to arrange the manifold of
intuition in one precise way,} and only in this way would a feeling of the
subject that intuits Y become possible as well. For every feeling is a lim¬
itation, and the feeling with which we would here be concerned is that of
an actual—albeit ideal—limitation.K {/ thereby feel this [limited] activity.
But, along with this feeling, an intuition of this limitation of the ideal
activity arises as well, because some ideal activity still remains neverthe¬
less, and this is what produces intuition X or the intuition of oneself.} In
this manner, this {ideal} activity {or the 1} would also become intuitable
in X, {because} insofar as it is a limited quantum, it would become some¬
thing objective.
The state of the I would thus now be as follows: I feel myself to be
limited, but the activity in relationship to which I feel myself to be lim¬
ited is one that is actual but at the same time ideal {—an activity that (86)
here becomes practical, and is thus no longer a mere striving, as it was
above}. Insofar as this is an activity, I can only intuit it, and this provides
intuition X. But insofar as this activity is limited, I feel it; and this pro-
93 vides feeling K X and Y are inseparably connected with each other; nei¬
ther can exist without the other.
{We thus have both a feeling and an intuition of the present ideal
activity = X, the activity of intuiting K}
It is not possible to feel the ideal activity—nor can it be present at all
{and thus, there can also be no self-intuition = X}—unless the ideal ac¬
tivity is limited. The limitation is [provided by] intuition K {Thus, no X
without K} What is limited in feeling is the real I. But as soon as the real
I is limited, the ideal activity resumes, and it is the ideal activity that is
active in intuition X. {Intuition Y, the necessary foundation of which lies
in intuition X, thereby becomes possible.} Here again, we have a synthe¬
sis {and thereby obtain, at the same time, an expansion of our system},
just as we previously encountered a synthesis in the course of our gen¬
eral discussion of intuition as such.
■ The previously described intuition Y is itself here what limits [intu¬
ition X]. Intuition Y is an action of the I; it is the intuition of a thing. A
feeling arises when this limitation is related to the actual I; but since
there is no feeling unaccompanied by an intuition, an intuition of this
limited intuition arises along with the feeling of the same. The former
intuition is an intuition of the I; the latter is an intuition of the Not-I.
{We can now safely conclude that there can be no intuition without self-
13	“gerade so zu bilden und nicht anders.”
K This now produces a feeling of the intuiting subject itself, since a feeling arises when¬
ever a limitation is present. In this case, there was supposed to be a limitation of the actual
ideal activity, and thus there is something limited (p. 85).

§8 213
awareness, and vice versa. I.e., I cannot be aware of any object or thing
(= intuition F) without being aware of myself; but I can be aware of my¬
self only by being aware of an object, because when I become aware of an
object, I become limited, and I discover myself thereby.} From this we
obtain the following synthetic principles: There can be no intuition of
the Not-I (outer intuition) without an intuition of the I (inner intuition),
and vice versa. Neither of these intuitions is possible, however, apart
from a feeling of oneself; for it is within self-feeling that these two in¬
tuitions are united, and it is there that the necessary connection between
them is revealed. {That is to say, the I intuits itself as intuiting something else.)
The limitation we are now discussing is [a feeling of] being compelled
to think in a certain way, i.e., -to represent something in precisely such
and such a manner and not otherwise. I cannot be aware of anything
outside of me without also being aware of myself as being aware of it.
But neither can I be aware of myself without also being aware of some¬
thing outside of me, for it is [only] thereby that I am limited. No I with¬
out a Not-I, and vice versa.
■ The intuition of the I and the intuition of the Not-I are thus recip¬
rocally related to each other; neither is possible apart from the other.
The reciprocal interaction just indicated never ceases; it is only further
determined. With this, we have now answered the question that re¬
mained unanswered above: “How is the I able to feel itself in intuition?”
Answer: [It is able to do so] only to the extent that it is compelled and
limited.L
With this preliminary understanding, we are now in a position to pen¬
etrate somewhat more deeply into our subject.
(6)	{According to the previous §,} an intuition necessarily arises when
the real activity of the I is limited, since the ideal activity always re-
94	mains—though the intuition produced thereby is, for the moment, only
an intuition of what limits [the activity of the 1]. This [i.e., the state that
is produced when its real activity is limited] is therefore a quite specific,
determinate state of the I. {It is practically limited and idealiter
intuiting.} Beginning with this specific state, we can obtain an under¬
standing of the genesis of the intuitions and feelings we have here been
discussing.15 This first state is supposed to be followed by an alteration.
L These two intuitions interact reciprocally with each other. I myself become the object
of a feeling—I feel my I in the intuition—only to the extent that I find myself compelled to
think in a particular way,14 that is, only insofar as I am aware of an object that limits me
(p. 86).
14	“in so fern ein Denkzwang statt findet.”
15	“Von ihm aus kann eine genetische Einsicht in das jetzt gesagte gegeben werden.” By
a “genetic understanding” (or “insight”), Fichte means an understanding that allows us to
understand how something is derived from or grounded in something else—which, in this

214	§ 8
We do not know how or why this alteration is supposed to occur, but we
have in fact postulated its occurrence.16 The I is {yet again} limited by
this alteration in its limited state. {I.e., its entire state is now limited, not
only practically, but also idealiter.) Above, the I was what is limited; this
limited I is here itself limited. In the first state (previous §) the I is, and
it is something or other; i.e., it is fixed and held fast. A determinate
striving is contained within the I, because the I is limited; or activity is
negated within the I, and this is what characterizes “being.”
■ The I, however, does not yet exist for itself. {It is arrested, with
no reflection upon itself; it disappears into the object. (For being—in
relation to an intellect—is the object17 of the ideal activity.)} No act of
reflection of the I upon itself can be derived so long as we occupy
the viewpoint just described. It will turn out that the I that is engaged
in intuiting will also possess a being for itself.18 It is this being {of
the I = A} that is now limited by this alteration—that is, the being of
the I is limited by {feeling} B, in contrast with A, in which only the
striving of the I was limited. What is limited is the being of the I, {a
being that is constituted only through feeling A}. Feeling B, simply be¬
cause it is a feeling, is also a limitation of striving, and this is something
it has in common with A. Here, however, we will abstract from what
these two feelings have in common and will pay attention only to what
is distinctive about feeling B; i.e., we will attend only to the alteration.
A being exists only for the ideal activity; but the ideal activity is not
yet directed at the entire being of the I, and thus, to this extent, neither
the being [of the I] nor its ideal activity can be limited at this point. In
intuition Y, however, the ideal activity is directed at the being of F;M
but if the being of the I {in feeling A} is limited {and altered by 5}—
which, according to what has already been shown, is what must hap¬
pen—then the being {of the 1} in the intuition of F19 will {likewise} be
limited and altered.
The limitation and alteration of external being follow from the limi¬
tation and alteration of my own being {as a feeling, in A}. An intuition
sense, provides the “conditions for the possibility” of the former. So understood, transcen¬
dental philosophy, and thus the entire Wissenschaftslehre, is a quest for a “genetic under¬
standing” of human experience in its entirety.
16	“wir haben sie <würklich> postuliert.” A study of the manuscript shows that the
questionable word in this sentence might also be deciphered as “willkürlich,” in which case
the clause would read: “we have freely postulated its occurrence.”
17	“das Objective.”
18	“Es wird sich finden, daß das Ich zu diesem Anschauenden ein Sein für sich haben
wird.”
M The ideal activity is now directed at another being of the I, namely, at a being of the
intuition = Y (p. 87).
19	Reading, with H, “das Seyn des Ich in der Anschauung des K” for K’s “das Sein im
Anschauen, des Y."

§8	215
( = Y) of something limited necessarily arises as a consequence of the
limitation of my real activity in A (previous §). If this limitation A, which
is the basis of intuition Y, is further limited, it follows that anything based
upon it must also be limited, and this provides intuition K An intuition
is produced by the limitation of real activity (previous §).
A determinate quantum of such limitation produces a determinate
95 quantum of intuition. If the basis is limited, then whatever is based
thereupon is limited as well. (“I am limited in intuition”: This means
that, in representation Y, I am constrained to order the manifold con¬
tained therein in a certain way, and not any other way.N Every limitation
provokes a feeling; consequently, this also occurs when the ideal activity
is limited in intuition E)
At first, the only basis of limitation that was taken into consideration
was the limitation of the practical power, for it seems odd that the {ideal}
activity, which has been established to be unlimitable, could become lim¬
ited and give rise to a feeling. One might call upon experience20 for as¬
sistance at this point. Within experience, we do indeed find ourselves
compelled to think and to construe objects in a particular way. {That is
to say, the ideal activity is limited; however, we must know how to derive
this result from our principles.} The situation would have be somewhat
as follows: the ideal activity would become practical {or real} and, to this (88)
extent, would be limited—and this would occur with freedom.21 {For the
time being, we must assume and presuppose this.} Later on, we will show
that this must indeed be the case, since otherwise our whole system
would collapse. A new feeling will arise from this limitation of the ideal
activity, but an intuition will necessarily arise from this feeling. This
would be intuition X, which we have been discussing until now. The ob¬
ject of intuition X would be what is limited by the feeling we have just
described, and this is the I itself, or the ideal activity of the I.
N When limitation A is further limited, this produces a limitation in whatever is based
thereupon. Therefore, since what [here] serves as the basis is limited by a limitation of its
activity (intuition), the intuition that follows from this is limited along with it; conse¬
quently, I am constrained in the representation of Y, or my ideal activity is limited (p. 87).
20	Actually, the text of K says precisely the opposite, that “one may not call upon expe¬
rience” (“Auf die Erfahrung darf man sich nicht berufen”). Both the present context and
the parallel passage on p. 87 of H (which contains no “nicht”), however, suggest that this
sentence should be amended as is here indicated. In either case, the point remains the
same: though one may (or may not) call upon experience for help, this would be to no avail
within the context of a systematic account like the present one, within which, as Fichte
goes on to point out, the basic “facts of experience” must be established by being derived
from philosophical first principles and thus cannot be used to establish the same.
21	“daß die ideale Thätigkeit praktische würde, und mit Freiheit hervorbrächte und in
sofern beschränkt würde.” Again, the translation of this somewhat obscure passage has
been guided by the less ambiguous parallel passage in H: “ideale Thätigkeit wird durch
absolute Freiheit selbst praktisch oder real u. hiedurch also beschränkbar.” But note that
H states that the ideal activity in this way becomes “limitable,” not “limited.”

2 l6 § 8
At first, the I, as an object of intuition, possesses being—i.e., it is
“something.” The limitation of the I constitutes state A22,0 In {intuition
X}, the I is given to itself; it is discovered as an object. The intuiting
agency in [intuition] X is the ideal activity, which is directed at this being.
{This is a single state, since the I is both what is felt and the intuiting
subject. The feeling subject and the intuiting subject are united.}
The connection between the subject that feels this feeling and what is
intuited is now completely clear, as is the ground of their identity. A de¬
terminate feeling produces a determinate intuition, and, along with this
intuition, an object of this intuition is also produced—an object that can¬
not be separated from the intuition. This is the bond. {Intuition Y is the
bond of intuition X; i.e., insofar as intuition Y is ascribed to the I, intu¬
ition Y is the I. Intuition X is possible only if intuition Y is posited.}
I feel and I intuit. I am the same I in both cases, but I am also sup¬
posed to be what I intuit. This object (= I) is bound up with this deter¬
minate intuition (= X); I feel myself to be limited by my own being. To
be sure, the subject that intuits Y is not the object of intuition X; instead,
the object of intuition X is the being, {the limitation, the state} of the I,
{the I as a kind of material}. But the act of intuition is necessarily and
96 inseparably connected with this, and it is by means of this bond that the
I proceeds further.22 23
Since the intuited object is supposed to be I, it follows that its being is
necessarily determined by the ideal activity’s act of positing a thing = Y;
only on this condition can it be intuited.
The result would be as follows: An alteration {in state A} produces a
feeling of this alteration, as a limitation of the I’s ideal activity; from this
feeling there then arises an intuition of the limited I as such, an intuition
within which the I appears as an object as such, and intuition Y appears
as a necessary accident of the I, {i.e., as the Not-I}.
If no I is present for the I, then no Not-I is either, nor is there any
consciousness. Neither the intuition nor the concept of the I is possible
without some alteration in the I’s feeling, however, {for the intuition of
the I is based upon this change or alteration; hence it must be postu¬
lated, for otherwise no I could ever appear, since it is the Ys very nature
to be purely active. But we become conscious of an activity only by means
of limitation or—what amounts to the same thing—through feeling,
22	“es ist etwas. Die Begrenztheit des Ich ist im Zustande A.” This sentence is defective as
it stands. The translation omits the “im.” Another possibility, adopted by Radrizzani in his
French version, is to omit the “ist,” thus construing this passage to read: “is ‘something,’
namely, the limitation of the I in state A.”
°The object of this intuition X would thus be what is limited in the feeling, i.e., the I,
whose ideal activity is limited. As the object of its intuition, the I is, i.e., it is “something,”
and this “being” would be the being of its state A (p. 88).
23	“die{3 ist das Band[,] woran das Ich weiter fortgeleitet wird.”

§8	217
and moreover, only insofar as several feelings are posited in opposition
to one another; which is to say, it is only through an alteration in our
state that we become aware of an activity.} Accordingly, some change of
feeling is a condition for the possibility of self-consciousness, and, as
such, the occurrence of such a change simply has to be postulated. Con¬
sequently, such a change of feeling, which was previously assumed only
problematically, must necessarily be assumed.
Remarks:
(A)	Intuition X is nothing but a reflection upon what was already de¬
duced in the previous §.24 {I now reflect upon myself, and I accomplish
this by means of the alteration that has occurred in my feeling.} (The
Wissenschaftslehre proceeds as follows: The I posits A; but in order for A
to be posited, the I has to reflect upon this, and then it must reflect, in
turn, upon its own act of reflection, etc.)
Concerning the alteration of feelings: The first limitation = A (see
previous §) is an original limitation of my nature. From this limitation,
taken by itself, nothing whatsoever follows—not even an intuition of the
I. I can, however, expand my nature through my own free acting, and
something may well follow as a result of this. I cannot act freely, however,
unless I am already an I for myself, or unless it is at least possible for me
to be able to be an I; and in order for this to be possible, some alteration
must occur within my nature: I must be acted upon, my nature must be
affected. {Thus, when I am in state A, I must be capable of being af¬
fected or altered or moved, from which there then arises state B. I.e., my
nature must be changeable25 rather than constant.} One does not have
to go beyond the I in order to explain this, for a disposition to be af¬
fected in this manner may lie within the I itself. Within ordinary con¬
sciousness, this [alteration in my feelings] must be explained by
referring to the presence of something external to me.
(B)	The limitation of intuition Y, which has supported our argument
until now, means that we are intellectually compelled to think of a cer¬
tain object in a particular manner, and such compulsion involves a feel¬
ing: I feel myself internally compelled to think of things in precisely this
or that way.
But am I {absolutely} compelled to think of things in a certain way? (89)
{Reply: [The compulsion in question is] not absolute, but is conditional.}
I can abstract from them, or I can think of them in a different way, {e.g.,
as possessing a different shape or color,} and no intellectual compulsion
is involved in this. In this case, however, my portrayal of the thing in
24	“Die Anschauung X ist nichts anderes als die im vorigen § deducirte Reflexion.”
Though a more natural rendering of this sentence would be “intuition X is nothing other
than the act of reflection deduced in the previous §,” the context, as well as the parallel
passage in H, make it clear that the sense intended is the one conveyed in the translation.
25	“beweglich.”

2 18 § 8
question will not be adequate to the truth, whereas if my representation
is supposed to correspond with the thing, then I am indeed compelled
to think in a particular manner. {This, therefore, is the sense in which
this intellectual compulsion is conditional: it depends upon whether our
representations are supposed to possess truth.}
■ But what sort of “truth” is this, by which my representation is sup¬
posed to be measured? This question concerns the reality we consider to
be the foundation of the representation. The truth that is here in ques¬
tion is our own being, or rather the practical aspect of the same, for this
is that which is immediately determined and for which no further foun¬
dation can be adduced. We construe our own being through a thing out¬
side of us, and when this thing outside of us points to a being within us,
then it is portrayed in a manner that conforms to its truth. A certain
quantum of limitation outside of me follows as a consequence of a cer¬
tain quantum of limitation within me.p
(C)	{The opposed determinations of the I—the I as representing and
the same I as acting—are in this way united. The bond of their identity
lies in the fact that they are present together within intuition. I cannot
entertain any representations without observing my practical state, and
vice versa. I cannot act without intuiting, and I cannot intuit without
feeling.
Moreover, we can now assume that intuitions X and Y are but one single
intuition: I intuit my state as limited (X); but, as a result of my limited
state, I also intuit something else as well (in Y): that is to say, I intuit my¬
self as intuiting something else. At bottom, this is only a single intuition.}
We still have not resolved the difficulty implicit in the following ques¬
tion: How can a feeling arise from a limitation of the ideal activity?
If I wish to represent an object correctly, then I have to represent it in
a certain way, {and my power of intuition or the ideal activity is limited
thereby}. In saying this, I mean that I might not wish to represent the
object correctly and that the necessity of my thinking something is only
a conditional necessity, dependent upon my own freedom, {[that is, de¬
pendent] upon whether I want to submit myself to this necessity or in¬
tellectual compulsion. But how do we intend to deduce this freedom, and not
merely assert that it exists?} What sort of freedom is this, and how does
it appear [within consciousness]? I am limited in [state] A. The ideal ac¬
tivity that arises as a result of this limitation is also limited. This limited,
ideal activity is intuition Y. Strictly speaking, however, intuition Y is
{here} nothing but an Idea that we {who are presently engaged in philo¬
sophical inquiry} have presupposed; for intuition Y has certainly not yet
p But what kind of “truth” is this? Reply: We ordinarily construe our own being as a thing
outside of us. From this, therefore, we obtain the principle: A certain quantum of intuition
follows from a certain determinate quantum of determinacy (p. 89).

§ 8 2ig
become anything for the I. {The I, according to the preceding §, disap- (90)
peared in the object and was not present at all.} In order for intuition Y
to be anything for the I, it must be reflected upon anew; the I must posit
it anew. Let us assume that this new act of reflection occurs freely.
The practical activity permits itself to be entirely suppressed, to the
point where no practical activity whatsoever is left and all that remains
is a striving toward practical activity. But it is the nature of the ideal ac¬
tivity to remain with me and not to be {entirely} cancelable. In {intuition}
98 Y, the ideal activity is only supposed to be limited, but it cannot be can¬
celed; accordingly, it is only partially limited and is able to wrench itself
away from this limited state. In intuition Y, the ideal activity is only par¬
tially limited; it can employ its freedom to wrench itself away. We will
find out whether it absolutely must wrench itself away or not; and if it
does not have to do so, then we will discover under what conditions this
is so.^
The I is supposed to be posited as the intuiting subject, but the I is
only what is active26 and nothing else; accordingly, the intuition must be
posited as a product of the I’s free activity, and only thereby does it be¬
come such a product. {Therefore, activity is the mediating link27 be¬
tween the I and the intuition.} According to the general laws of
intuition, however, activity can be posited only as a movement of tran¬
sition from determinability to determinacy. “I am supposed to posit my¬
self as active”: this means that I have to observe my own activity. But the
latter is a movement of transition from an indeterminate to a determi¬
nate state. Consequently, this intuition can be thought of as free only if
it is simultaneously posited as constrained. Freedom is {for the 1} noth¬
ing without constraint, and vice versa. {Only through the opposition of
freedom, therefore, is there any limitation whatsoever.} The act of
wrenching away is impossible without something from which one
wrenches oneself away. What is posited obtains its determinacy only by
means of opposition.
How then can freedom and limitation of the ideal activity coexist
alongside each other? In the following manner: If one reflects upon the
determinacy of the practical (real) I, then one must also necessarily posit
Y in such and such a way {—from this precise quantum of determinacy
there follows this precise quantum of intuition}; consequently, only the
synthesis is necessary. In other words, if a particular representation is
to be “true,” then I must represent its object in such and such a way.
But the representing subject is free to engage or not to engage in this
synthesis; and, in this respect, the representing subject is under no
QIs this limitation of the ideal activity conditional or unconditional? (p. 90).
26	“das Thatige.”
27	“das Verbindungsmittel.”

220 § 8
compulsion,R {for it is not, in itself, necessary that I reflect upon my lim¬
ited condition, though I am free to do so if I wish}.
Thus we now have the above results in a more precise and clear form:
I am limited; and it is, to begin with, my practical power that is
limited.28 This limitation is, in turn, limited by the alteration that occurs
in the state of [my] feelings. I can reflect upon this alteration or not re¬
flect upon it. This act of reflection is what we have, until now, called
“intuition X.” If, however, I reflect at all, then I cannot simply posit my¬
self as limited; instead, I must also posit something else as the source of
99 this limitation. This is intuition Y If I do not reflect in this manner, then
I am not present for myself, and consequently, neither is anything ex¬
ternal to me present for me, {for I myself am not present}. When I ac¬
complish the free act {of reflection} just described, I immediately
become conscious of myself. A reflection upon myself is immediately
linked with this act of reflection upon my state and with the inference to
something outside of me which follows from this, {and indeed, this oc¬
curs in one single act,} not in two separate acts.
In [intuition] X, I am supposed to reflect upon intuition Y. If intuition
Y is to be mine, then I must reflect upon it in Z, and then I must reflect
upon Z in intuition V. This is an important point: as surely as a free in¬
tuition occurs, an intuition of the I is just as surely connected with it. I
intuit myself as intuiting, and this is how I become an I for myself; but
this cannot occur unless I posit myself as constrained, for only in this
way do I first acquire stability for myself.29 One can thus now see why it
is necessary to link intuition Y with intuition X.s Accordingly, it is only by
means of freedom that everything we have said so far first acquires in¬
telligibility and tenability, for the sole thing to which anything else can
be connected is freedom.
We have also spoken of a feeling {as what is primary and original. (91)
Even this limitation of the I, however, or this feeling, is dependent upon
freedom.} The I’s limited state30 is freely posited and is then reflected
upon. This limited state is a feeling, for a feeling is produced whenever
an I is limited; accordingly, feeling itself is also dependent upon free-
R The latter, that is, the truth and accuracy of my representations, is dependent upon
the freedom of the representing subject, which, to this extent, is under no compulsion and
is not limited (p. 90).
28	“Ich bin beschränkt, zuförderst praktisch.”
29	“dadurch erhalte ich erst Haltbarkeit für mich.” The term Haltbarkeit also means “ten¬
ability,” which is how it translated in the last sentence in this paragraph.
s As surely as I intuit anything at all, an intuition of the intuiting subject must be con¬
nected with this intuition. I observe myself and become an I for myself. This act of obser¬
vation is not possible, however, unless I posit myself as constrained, for only in this way
does an intuition acquire stability. Consequently, intuition Y always has to be connected
with intuition X (pp. 90-91).
30	“Seine Beschränktheit.” Although the obvious antecedent of “seine” in this sentence
is “das Gefühl,” such a reading is difficult to reconcile with the conclusion of this same
passage (“this limited state is a feeling”). The larger context, as well as the parallel passage
in H, suggest, instead, that the correct antecedent must be “das Ich.”

§ 8 221
dom. Unless a feeling is freely reflected upon, no feeling occurs at all. I
must surrender myself to the feeling,31 for otherwise, I do not feel it.
Admittedly, once a feeling is present, everything else then follows of its
own accord; but in order for a feeling to be present at all, that is, in order
for a feeling and the results of the same to be present for the I, the I
must, as it were, set itself in motion in opposition to the feeling, {so that
its ideal activity will be limited}.
An ideal activity that is ascribed to the I and is posited with a con¬
sciousness of freedom is called a “concept.” Consequently, what we have
hitherto portrayed merely as an intuition {= X} is actually a concept,
{for it is an intuition accompanied by a consciousness of the intuiting
subject. This is its distinctive character, which distinguishes it from all
other intuitions = K} What distinguishes a concept from an intuition is
this:32 in an intuition the I is posited as constrained, whereas in a con¬
cept it is posited as free. Consequently, an intuition by itself is nothing;
100 or, as Kant says, it is blind. On the other hand, a concept by itself is
empty, if the I does not find itself to be limited in intuition.
Overview of the Steps of the Argument up to This Point
Prior to all inquiry, we must join together within the I an {absolutely
free and} unlimitable activity and a limitable activity (ideal and real ac-
tivity).T The latter becomes limited in a determinate manner. The de-
terminacy is achieved by a particular alteration in the state [of the I], in
consequence of which this state becomes limited on every side33 {—a
certain quantum of limitation is present}. But the limitable or real ac¬
tivity is not limited {for the 1} unless the absolutely free activity reflects
upon this limited activity and comprehends the limitation. However, the
ideal activity can comprehend this limitation, {that is, can intuit it
consciously,} only within itself, which means that the ideal activity must
itself be limited. Since, however, the ideal activity is free, its limitation
cannot be affected by something limiting, {that is, by the Not-I}; instead,
the ideal activity must freely surrender itself to what limits it. But the
ideal activity cannot comprehend the I without comprehending it as
31	“Ich muß dem Gefühl mich hingeben.” Fichte employs the term sich hingeben (to “sur¬
render” or to “abandon” oneself to something) to designate the I’s free act of allowing its
ideal activity to be determined by the limited state of the practical activity.
32	“sonach ist das, was wir bisher bloß als Anschauung charakterisirt haben, ein Begriff,
die Anschauung. Der Charkater des Begriffs von der Anschauung wäre der:” This passage
requires some emendation. Guided by the parallel passage in H, the translation omits the
word Anschauung at the end of the first sentence and follows Radrizzani in reading the
word von in the second as a mistranscription of vor.
T Therefore, we must assume that an absolutely free and unlimited activity and a limited
one, ideal and real activity, are both present within the I (p. 91).
33	“wird der Zustand von allen Seiten geschloßen.”

222 § 8
limited, and this furnishes the concept of the I;u yet neither can it com¬
prehend the I as limited without positing something that limits it, and
this furnishes the concept of the Not-I.
The I is free and is nevertheless governed by laws. This is possible only
if the I freely subordinates itself to these laws. We are here concerned
only with the laws of representation.
§8
An intuition of the I is necessarily connected with an intuition of the
Not-I, and only through the former does the latter become an intuition
at all. In order to explain this intuition of the I, however, one has to as¬
sume an alteration in the state of [the I’s] feelings, i.e., a limitation of its
limited condition, through which the I itself becomes limited in the in¬
tuition of the Not-I. From this alteration there arises a feeling of this
particular limitation of the ideal activity, from which there then arises
an intuition of the same. The ground of the union of the intuition of the
I and the intuition of the Not-I is this: no constraint can be posited
within the intuition of the Not-I without also positing freedom in oppo¬
sition to it. All freedom, however, pertains to the I, and only by means of
freedom does the intuition of the I become an intuition of the I. But an
101 intuition accompanied by a consciousness of the intuiting subject is
called a “concept.” Therefore, the concept of the I and the concept
of the Not-I both arise from the postulated alteration in the system of
feeling.
Christmas Vacation
Recapitulation of What Has Been Presented up to This Point34
The contents of the entire Wissenschaftslehre can be briefly summa¬
rized in the following words:
u But the ideal activity cannot comprehend this limitation—i.e., it cannot consciously
intuit it—unless the ideal activity is itself limited.
However, since the ideal activity is free, it cannot be affected by what limits it—i.e., the
Not-I. Instead, it approaches the Not-I and surrenders itself thereto, thereby freely sub¬
jecting itself to the compulsion to think in a certain way and in accordance with certain
laws. This is how the ideal activity obtains a concept of the I (p. 91).
34	Though this passage appears at the conclusion of § 8, it was obviously delivered at the
resumption of Fichte’s lectures following the holiday break. Indeed, in H, it appears at the
beginning of § 9.

§ 8 223
My ability to be conscious of anything whatsoever has its foundation
within me and not within things. I am conscious of something; but I my¬
self am the sole thing of which I am immediately conscious. Everything
else belongs among the conditions that make self-consciousness possible.
Through self-consciousness, I become conscious of the world.
■ I am an object of consciousness for myself only insofar as I am en¬
gaged in acting. “How is experience possible?” This is just another way
of asking how I can become conscious of my own acting. Everything de¬
pends upon the answer to this question, and once it has been answered,
our system will be complete. Up to this point, we have discovered that if
I am to posit myself as acting then I must become conscious of some con¬
cept of a goal. The question that still concerns us is this: How is the con¬
cept of a goal possible? We have already seen how any concept at all is
possible as such. In truth, however, we will not be fully able to under¬
stand the possibility of any of the things we have described so far until
we have reached the end of our inquiry, for we will always have addi¬
tional conditions of possibility to exhibit. The possibility of the individ¬
ual parts will have been demonstrated only when the possibility of the
whole has been exhibited.
We have shown how a concept is possible, but in doing so we had to
102 presuppose certain things, things that must—and can—be tacitly pre¬
supposed.
The course of our inquiry has been as follows: My original limitation
is a practical one, and from this there arises a feeling. I am not simply
practical, however; I am also ideal. The ideal activity is not limited, and,
as a consequence of this fact, intuition remains. Feeling and intuition are
connected with each other. Some alteration must occur in feeling: this is
a condition for the possibility of consciousness. I am [further] limited in
this state of limitation; therefore, I am also limited in intuition E Since
a feeling arises from every limitation, a feeling must also arise in this
case: namely, the feeling of being compelled to think in a certain man¬
ner, a feeling accompanied by an intuition of myself. An intuition in
which the intuiting subject is itself posited, that is to say, an intuition that
is related to the intuiting subject, is called a “concept” of some thing (in
this case, the concept of E)v
v In order to pick up the thread where we let it drop, the following brief recapitulation
is provided:
No consciousness without self-consciousness. No self-consciousness without acting. No
free acting without the construction of a concept of a goal. No concept of a goal without
a general capacity for concepts as such.
In the previous § we showed how any concept at all is possible as such—but only under
certain presuppositions, which we tacitly assumed, for our Wissenschaftslehre would now be
complete if all these presuppositions had already been fully stated (p. 92).

102
§ 9
In the previous § the question concerning the ground of the unity of
the concept and the I was already raised: How is it that I am able to say,
“This1 is my concept”?
Until now, the I was construed as the feeling subject, but it must be
the comprehending subject2 as well. The concept must necessarily be
united with the feeling, and in such a way that neither is able to con¬
stitute a whole apart from the other. {We already obtained such a uni- (92)
fication above, where we discovered that it was possible only through
¿¿//-feeling and discovered that the concept constitutes a necessary com¬
ponent of the latter.} A feeling and a concept are united in self-feeling.
I am compelled to look at things in the way that I do look at them, and
thus this feeling of compulsion accompanies my feeling of myself.A
Thus, until now, the I has been comprehended or intuited as the com¬
prehending subject itself. We now wish to proceed further. I can posit
myself as an I only insofar as I posit myself as active. Feeling, however,
is supposed to be nothing more than limitation; hence I cannot feel my¬
self to be an I unless another activity occurs as well. From this it follows
that consciousness cannot be explained on the basis of feeling alone,
{unless, alongside the feeling, an activity is also present at the same (93)
time}; therefore, in the concept of Y {or of the object}, I must posit my¬
self as active. {We have claimed that} the ideally [active subject]3 surren-
1	Reading, with H, “das ist mein Begriff?” for K’s “alles ist mein Begriff” (“everything
is my concept”).
2	“das Begreifende,” i.e., the intelligent subject who grasps things by means of or in
terms of concepts.
A I feel myself compelled: I must think in a particular manner, and I cannot think at all
unless I also feel compulsion. This compulsion, however, is comprehended along with the
particular determination [of my state]. But this feeling, this limitation, cannot, by itself,
constitute my entire state; instead, my I is surely only active—for otherwise, I would be
unable to have a feeling of myself (p. 92).
3	“das ideale.”
[224]

§ 9	225
ders itself to feeling; {the representing—that is, the ideal—subject,
which stands opposed to the feeling, submits itself to the limitation or to
the intellectual compulsion, but only conditionally, that is, only insofar as
I wish to think the truth. For ideal activity cannot, as such, be curbed
and limited; instead, what is presupposed is that the ideal activity freely
submits itself to the feeling, in the sense that it could also not submit
103 itself thereto.} The specific object of our present inquiry is to under¬
stand how this occurs.
I posit myself as an I: this means that I posit myself as active. {Every
activity has both a material and a formal aspect.} The material aspect of
activity (what I intuit when I posit myself as active) is a movement of
transition from determinability to determinacy.B (The formal aspect
of activity is self-affection, which is not under discussion at this point.)
The I is to be posited here, within the concept, as an active subject, i.e.,
as engaged in moving from a particular state of indeterminacy to a par¬
ticular state of determinacy. We must now become better acquainted
with each of these states.
{The entire examination, therefore, depends upon knowing what it is
that is determinable and what it is that is determinate. We will here be¬
gin with the latter.4}
(A)	What is determinate (i.e., that to which the transition is made) is [in
this case] the concept of a determinate thing {= Y: for example, the wall,
the stove, etc.}. Within this concept, however, I myself am also determi¬
nate, for this quantum of comprehending constitutes my state. {The de¬
terminacy of the thing, in itself, is of no concern to us; it concerns me
only insofar as I also become determined thereby, i.e., only insofar as
this quantum of limitation constitutes my own state, only insofar as I
comprehend that it is my concept, through which it becomes a concept
of my own limited state.}
(B)	So far we have observed the following concerning the origin of this
determinate thing, that is to say, concerning the origin of this determi¬
nate act of comprehending or of my own determinacy within this act of
comprehending: I am limited {with respect to my practical power}; in¬
deed, my limitation is complete. The very completeness of this limita¬
tion indicates a further limitation of my state of limitation. The practical
activity is canceled entirely, but the ideal activity remains, and it is the
very essence of the ideal activity to have some object, {to be “fixed” upon
B This material aspect is intuition Y, or the concept of the Not-I. What consciousness
feels in this case is the movement of transition from what is determinable to what is de¬
terminate; i.e., I observe how I move from the possibility of engaging in many different
actions to one determinate action (p. 93).
4	What is determinable in this movement of transition is the topic of § 10.

226	§ g
something. An object arises for me when I am practically limited.} Prac¬
tical limitation (or “feeling”) and intuition are both contained in this
state of the I, for each of these is necessarily connected with the other.
Moreover, this practical limitation {or feeling} is a determinate limita¬
tion, and consequently, the intuition connected with it is determinate as
well. {Feeling Y; therefore, intuition Y: this connection is a necessary one.}
(C)	Everything we have been talking about until now has, for the time
being, been present only for those of us engaged in philosophical in¬
quiry, and, to this extent, {therefore, our account remains transcendent
and dogmatic, and—since such an account of the “I in itself” is meaning¬
less—} it remains empty. If it is to be something, it must become some¬
thing for the I that is the object of our inquiry. {Through an actual deed,
it must exist for the I.} But how does anything become present for the I?
{How does the I appropriate this state to itself?} We have already an¬
swered this question in the following way: It is by means of a new
feeling = X, namely, a feeling of the necessary connection between in¬
tuition Y and feeling Y,5 a feeling of intellectual compulsion, {a feeling of (94)
one’s entire state,} that something becomes present for the I {—to the
extent that the I freely surrenders itself to this feeling}. This new feel¬
ing, however, is also nothing unless it is present for the I, and this entire
state is present for the I itself only insofar as it renounces any [further]
free transition [to another state].
(D)	It is necessary that the I surrender itself freely, {namely, as free in
and for itself}; [therefore,] it understands that it is free: it is free for it¬
self, it discovers itself to be free. I.e., its act of surrendering itself is ac¬
companied by a representation of itself as also having been able not to
surrender itself in this way. On the other hand, the I cannot posit itself
104 as freely surrendering itself unless it actually does surrender itself; for if
the I does not actually surrender itself, then nothing is present for it. It
is only by means of freedom that I attend to any object whatsoever, for
I claim that I also could have not paid any attention to it; this is some¬
thing I can say, however, only if I have attended to it.
{For example, I see a portrait in a room. This representation is ac¬
companied by another representation, namely, that it could have also
been possible for me not to pay any attention to this portrait. In order
for me to be able to entertain the latter representation, however, I first
must have perceived the portrait, and thus focused my free activity upon
it; for otherwise, no representation whatsoever of a portrait in this or
any other room would be present for me.}
This Y here reveals two different aspects, {[and] the entire mechanism
of the theoretical power is based upon this double aspect. The I must intuit
5	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “Gefühle Y' for K’s “Gefühle X.”

§ 9	227
Yy if Y is to exist for the I. But now the I posits itself either as intuiting Y
or as not intuiting Y; the I cannot do this, however, until it has intuited
the I or has obtained a representation of itself. Therefore, both freedom
and intuition mutually condition each other. The double aspect of the Y is as
follows}: In the first instance, Y is treated as an intuition that is not sup¬
posed to be an intuition; in the second, it is treated as an intuition that
is supposed to be an intuition. In the first case, Y is a thing, a thing that
is also supposed to exist in itself and apart from the I. {It does not exist
for the I; it is an intuition without consciousness. The I vanishes into the
object.} In the second case, Y is supposed to be a freely produced rep¬
resentation of this same thing.c The thing and the representation
thereof are thus one and the same—simply viewed from two different
sides. In the first case, Y is the condition for the representation; in the
second, it is the representation itself.
{In the first case, the I is not related to Y; in the second case, in con¬
trast, it is. Both the thing and the representation are thereby products of
the representing subject.
This same point can also be expressed as follows: A thing is not
present for me at all unless I reflect upon it. If, however, I do reflect,
then, sheerly by virtue of this act of reflection, something determinate is
necessarily present for me; by virtue of freedom, however, this is present
for me only as something contingent—since this freedom is posited by
the I.
A thing thus presents itself to the I in two different ways:
(1)	As a being that is absolutely present, something present “as such”
or “in itself,” without any help from me.
(2)	As a being that can either be present or not be present, and, to this
extent, it is a representation. A thing of this sort is not present without
any help from me, for it indicates the occurrence of a free act. On the
other hand, the former, that is, the thing in itself, exists without any help
from me.
Yet another way to express this is as follows: I can abstract from an (95)
object and can think of it as not existing, but I cannot abstract from it
before it exists for me. A thing is something whose being is posited.6 If
I did not exist, a world would certainly still exist; if, however, it is sup¬
posed to exist for me, then I tacitly posit myself as well. Whenever I per¬
ceive some thing, I myself am present as well. But when I abstract, then
I am no longer present for myself.}
Ordinary consciousness expresses this same point by saying, “The
world would certainly continue to exist even if I did not.” (This is an in¬
ference; and whenever I make such a claim, I tacitly posit myself as well.)
c In the second case, it appears as an actual intuition, insofar as the representation of
the same is accompanied by freedom (p. 94).
6	“Ein Gesezt seyn ist das Ding.”

228	§ g
By this path, we have now arrived at the true nature of “objectivity,” and
we now know why we assume the existence of things outside of ourselves.
The first [aspect of]7], in which there is no freedom present, is what we
have previously referred to as an “intuition,” which, as such, is blind and
does not appear within consciousness, though it would be better to call
it a “thing,” since, when one thinks of an intuition, one also thinks of
something else in connection with it, namely, the thing that is intuited.
The second [aspect of Y] is the representation of a thing. {An intuition
is therefore the thing itself. The intuition and the thing are one and
the same.}
(E)	In the act of reflection just described, we considered the I itself to be
viewing matters in the same way we ourselves viewed them until now.
{From where does the I obtain the thing, and why does it consider it to
be a “thing” at all? Or, how is the one intuition synthetically united
with the other?}
The I posits the following: that intuition Y is necessarily connected
with feeling Y (which is also present for the I only insofar as the I reflects
upon it) and also escapes from this very limitation. It is by means of this
connection between intuition and feeling that Y becomes a real thing for
the I.D {[The thing] is related [to the intuition] as cause to effect. The I,
so to speak, checks whether a particular feeling produces an intuition. It
then surrenders itself to the very influence it itself has imagined, and,
on this condition—that there is some determinate consciousness of re¬
ality—the I becomes immanent [within this consciousness].} Conse¬
quently, what we have just provided is a description of what is taken to
be transcendent;7 it becomes a condition for the possibility of my con¬
sciousness, that is, for any determinate consciousness of reality. The I
calls this product of feeling a “thing” or “reality.”
Remark: We have presented intuitions X and Y {individually} as two
{particular} determinations of the mind. We had to do this in order to
105 obtain any clear insight into the manifold that lay before us, for we are
able to think only discursively. {Originally,} however, these two determi¬
nations are never present within the human mind in isolation from each
other. An I is first present in intuition X. (At least this appears to be the
case, judging from our present standpoint, though we will see later on
that this is not sufficient.) Moreover, since an I appears only in X, it is
also only within intuition X that Y (i.e., a thing) can appear; otherwise,
things would have to exist even if I did not, or I would have to exist even
DThe I posits that an intuition = Y is united with a feeling = Y (which is also first
present for the I only insofar as the I reflects upon it) and that the ideal activity emerges
from this intuition and wrenches itself away, and it is as a result of this that the object = Y
becomes a real thing, related [to the intuition] like a cause to an effect (p. 95).
7	“So ist unsere geschilderte Beschreibung des transzendenten genommen.”

§ 9	229
if there were no things. Either alternative is absurd. Consequently, X and
Y do not constitute two different states [of the I], but are only two dif¬
ferent ways of determining one and the same state, {a manifold within
one and same state. There is no thing unless I am. [X and Y] are there¬
fore only two determinations contained within a single state or within a
single intuition. Some intuition always follows from a feeling. The I must
behave in conformity with this necessary connection.}
To assert that an intuition is produced from a feeling without any help
from us would be to make a transcendent claim; but all we have said here
is that the I, in accordance with the laws of reason, must view the matter
in this way.
(F)	The I posits a necessary connection between a specific feeling and a
specific intuition. By what rule {or law} does it proceed in this case?
There can be no rule governing this; this connection possesses its foun¬
dation within the I itself, which simply must proceed in a certain man¬
ner.E {The necessity in question is immediate. The I must proceed in this (96)
way—just as surely as it is an I at all.} For what is an object? First and
foremost, an object is something that arouses a specific feeling: e.g.,
green or red. The predicate attached to an object (e.g., it is “red”) is not
intuited; it is simply felt, and the connection between this predicate and
this object occurs within a particular state of our mind.F Furthermore,
those properties characteristic of objectivity as such also apply to this
object. It is intuited, and it hovers before the ideal activity: this applies to
all objects, whether imaginary or real. The truly characteristic feature of
an object (or of “reality”) is that it is something that is posited in conse¬
quence of a feeling. In the future we will consider any additional prop¬
erties that may also pertain to this object (e.g., extension in space). That
an object is in space and occupies a particular position therein follows
from intuition. A feeling, however, lies within us and is transferred to an
object, which is supposed to lie outside of us. An external object is an
interpretation of our own feeling.0
What then is the meaning of the expressions “truth,” “reality,” and
“objective validity”? These terms apply only to those representations
106 that have been produced from feeling, or from the first state of the I,
E The situation here is unlike that of aesthetic judgment, for which rules can be given.
Instead, the necessity of connecting an intuition to a feeling is a necessity that has its foun¬
dation within the very nature of our reason (pp. 95-96).
F The predicates of an object are not intuited, but felt; and this occurs through the nec¬
essary connection of both moments—that is, the moment of feeling and the moment of
intuition (p. 96).
G Furthermore, through the above synthesis, that is, simply by being posited, the object
first of all acquires the character of “objectivity,” and, second, that of “reality.” We do not
know how this object is produced, but we must assume it to be real; and if the representing
subject proceeds in this manner, then its representations possess truth and reality (p. 96).

230 §9
and are applicable only when the ideal activity has been necessarily de¬
termined, that is, only to representations that have been necessitated by
feeling.H Whenever a load presses upon an object, a certain pressure is
then necessarily present for that object; but an intuition is not necessar¬
ily produced whenever a feeling is posited, for the intuiting subject is
free. It can also choose not to reflect [upon this feeling]. If, however, it
does reflect, then an intuition necessarily ensues. Therefore, whenever
truth is present, the I itself is present without any division, as, so to
speak, a single system, within which, from any single element, every¬
thing else necessarily follows. A certain intuition follows from a [certain]
state of feeling, and this constitutes “truth.” When I merely imagine
something, however, the states of feeling and intuition go their own sep¬
arate ways, and, to this extent, the ideally [active subject] and the feeling
subject are, as it were, torn apart from each other; hence my represen¬
tation possesses no truth. {Thus, [there is truth] whenever both states,
my feeling and my representations, are in agreement.} Truth is agree¬
ment with ourselves, harmony.
This concept of truth, {which is here applied only partially, that is, to
the objectivity of the world,} may be extended still further. Objective va¬
lidity pertains just as much to our representations of God, morality,
right, etc. {—if these are supposed to be true—} as it does to our rep¬
resentations of the world. Both types of representation are based upon
feelings, {and consequently they are also true}. The difference between
them is that, while our representations of the world are based upon a
feeling of our own limitation, our representations of God, etc., are based
upon a feeling of our own striving. {Both feelings give rise to represen¬
tations, which are objectively and subjectively true.} Acting is the middle
term that links these two types of feeling.8 {That is, it is the intermediary
between the feeling of our own limitation and the feeling of striving;
both feelings have their origin in such acting (as we will see below), for
all consciousness whatsoever commences with acting.}
In asserting that the representations of God, etc., possess just as much
objective validity as the representations of the world, the Wissenschafts-
lehre diverges from the letter of Kant’s philosophy, {which ascribes only
subjective validity to the concept of God. Kant certainly had a correct (97)
view of this matter, but he presented it only in a one-sided fashion. In the
Wissenschaftslehre, however, both the world and God are objectively and
H Truth, objectivity, reality: these apply to those of my representations which necessarily
follow from a feeling, when the feeling is capable of activating the representing subject,
when it exercises causality upon the ideal activity of the representing subject, when the I
reflects upon the feeling. This or that determinate intuition follows from this state of the
feeling subject: this is truth (p. 96).
8	“Zwischen beiden liegt das Handeln.” I.e., what the feeling of limitation has in com¬
mon with that of striving is that both are related to acting.

§ 9	231
subjectively true.} In his essay “Concerning a Presumptuous Tone,”
Kant says that one constructs God for oneself.9 This is certainly true, but
one also constructs the world for oneself; {and, to this extent, both are
subjective, i.e.,} both are dependent upon reason. There is a world only
for reason, just as there is a God only for reason. {Both are produced
from a feeling; that is, they necessarily arise when I surrender myself to
the feeling in question. For precisely the same reason, however, and in
accordance with the spirit of Kant’s philosophy, the representations
of the world and of God both possess the same sort of objective validity
as well, inasmuch as both representations are posited in consequence of
a feeling, and both arise as a result of reflecting upon the feeling in
question. Both are necessarily^just as objective as they are subjective, i.e.,
dependent upon our reason.} Nevertheless, these two types of represen¬
tation differ in two important respects:
(1)	Every person—just as surely as he exists at all—has to reflect upon
his representations of the world.1 {Every child must do this just as soon
as he becomes self-aware and conscious of himself.} Representations of
God, however, presuppose [a certain degree of] moral development.J {I
can certainly exist for myself without such a moral education,10 which is
not a necessary condition for the possibility of consciousness as such, but
only for a complete or “perfected” consciousness. I recognize the lofty
goal that has been assigned to me by reason; but I also realize that I can¬
not fully achieve this goal unless I assume that a God exists, and I am
thereby driven to make such an assumption.}
107	(2) Representations of the world are determined by all the laws of rea¬
son, {which express themselves in the world,} whereas this is not true of
the representation of God. One is unable to think of God in any deter¬
minate fashion; one can only assume that God exists. There is no con¬
cept of God, but only an Idea.K Kant is concerned, above all, with
9	“daß man Gott sich mache.” See Kant’s lengthy footnote on this subject in KGS, VIII:
400-401. What Kant actually says in this note is that one constructs one’s own concept of
God. For Kant’s well-known denial that the representation of God possesses objective va¬
lidity, see the discussion of “the ideal of pure reason” in chap. 3 of the “Transcendental
Dialectic” (KRV\ A567/B5g6ff., especially A619/B647 and A665/B694).
1	As surely as our I is supposed to be an I, we must reflect upon that feeling through
which we posit the world as something actual (p. 97).
J But one does not necessarily have to reflect upon that feeling through which we posit
God; instead, this presupposes the development of a moral way of thinking, through which
one becomes capable of acquiring such representations (p. 97).
10	“ohne dieselbe.” Though this pronoun has here been construed as referring to “eine
Entwicklung einer moralischen Denkart,” it might also be taken to refer to “a moral way of
thinking” or even to “the representation of God.”
K Every object in nature is presented by means of all the laws of reason. There are con¬
cepts of such objects.
In contrast, one cannot think of God in any determinate fashion; one cannot compre¬
hend, cognize, or determine God. Instead, one must simply assume that God exists (p. 97).

232 §9
cognition, and, for him, an object is an object of cognizing.11 Viewed in
this light, the Wissenschaftslehre agrees with the letter of Kant’s philoso¬
phy on this subject after all, for representations of God [etc.] are not
“objective” in this sense. For Kant, “reality” means “what is in space.”12
Properly speaking, however, this is matter; and, in this sense, no reality
pertains to God.
{In this sense, Kant is correct when he contends that no objective cog¬
nition of God is possible and that objective cognition is limited to the
world. If one construes the term “objective” as a synonym for “some¬
thing real,”13 then, of course, God is not objectively cognizable. But (as (98)
we have seen above) your instructor employs the term “objective” in a
different sense:
An objective representation is a representation that would necessarily
have to follow from a certain feeling, if that feeling possessed causal ef¬
ficacy and were able to effect the ideal activity in such a way as to drive
the representing subject to reflect upon the feeling. Consequently, “ob¬
jective” here means the same thing as “something that is really true.”14
Our task was to observe the freedom of the I in the act of compre¬
hending an object and to do so in terms of a movement of transition
from what is determinable to what is determinate. This has been sum¬
marized by the instructor as follows:}
§ 9
The act of comprehending is a free act of reflection upon the intu¬
ition (= Y) that was previously derived {in the preceding §}, and it is pos¬
ited as a free act. The freedom of the act of reflecting upon intuition
cannot be posited, however, unless this act of reflection15 is itself
{already} posited as such. Accordingly, we obtain a twofold view of the
act of reflection, and along with this, a twofold view of the object of the
same. (That is to say, the double aspect of the act of reflection is present
11	“Kant geht besonders aufs Erkennen aus, und Object ist ihm, was ein Gegenstand des
Erkennens.”
12	See, e.g., KRV,
13	“etwas REELLES.”
14	“etwas reell wahres.”
15	“aber die Freiheit der Reflexion auf sie kann nicht gesezt werden, auser in wiefern sie
selbst überhaupt gesezt ist.” The antecedent of the second sie in this clause in uncertain,
and might be either “the act of reflection” (die Reflexion) or “the intuition” (die An¬
schauung), though the context appears to support the former. Indeed, the corresponding
passage in H (p. 98) explicitly refers to both and states that “the freedom of this act of
reflecting upon intuition cannot be posited except insofar as these (i.e., the act of reflec¬
tion, as well as intuition itself) are already posited as such.” It should be noted, however,
that this same passage in H—“außer inwiefern die[se] (Reflexion, Anschauung selbst)
überhaupt schon gesezt ist”—with its plural subject and singular verb, also appears to be
defective.

§ 9	233
for the philosopher, whereas what is present for the I is the double as¬
pect of the object.) In the first instance, [we are concerned with] the act
of reflection as such, without any further reflection thereupon, and this
furnishes the object that is present without any help from the I. In the
second instance, [we are concerned with] the act of reflection as a par¬
ticular determination of freedom, which is itself reflected upon, and this
furnishes the representation of the thing.

io7
§ IO
{Remark: (A)} Even though a free being must produce from itself ev- (98)
erything that is present for it, something must nevertheless necessarily
appear to such a being to be “given.” What is the origin of this sem¬
blance?1 It follows from the very nature of a free being {that something
must appear to it that does not appear to be produced by the free being
in question. To this extent, those who speak of something “given” are
admittedly correct; nothing rational, however, can be thought of in con¬
junction with this}, for a free being {necessarily} commences with a free
acting, which is preceded by no consciousness at all. This free acting be¬
comes an object of consciousness and can subsequently be viewed as a
108 product of freedom; insofar as it becomes an object of consciousness,
however, it appears to be something given, and the reason for this lies
within the character of the ideal activity, which has to be constrained by
something it has not produced. One could also express this point by not¬
ing that a free being cannot act at all unless it acts upon something
(which is also a product of freedom); but because this {first act of} free¬
dom, {as the foundation of all free acting,} is not itself an instance of
acting upon something, it remains in the shadows, {since the ideal ac¬
tivity necessarily requires that some object be present. Consequently, we
are not conscious of this original acting, since it precedes all conscious¬
ness and first makes the latter possible.} This is why an object must nec¬
essarily exist for us.
■ See The Distinctive Character of the Wissenschaftslehre [with respect to the
Theoretical Power], § 3, VII.2 (Because of the changes in the present pre-
1	“so muß ihm doch etwas als nothwendig gegeben erscheinen; woher dieser Schein?” A
more literal rendering of the first clause would be: “something must necessarily appear to
such a being to be necessarily ‘given.’ ”
2	GEWL. Though Fichte cites the first edition of the Grundriß, his original page refer¬
ences have been replaced throughout by references to the edition contained in SW, I: 329-
416 (which are also supplied in the critical edition of the text included in A A I, 3: 143—208,
and in the English version included in EPW, pp. 243—306).
[234]

§ io 235
sentation, not everything that is said there is applicable here.) See too
the note on p. xx of Kant’s Metaphysical First Principles of Justice.3
In the preceding § we discussed our knowledge of what is determi¬
nate. In this § we will discuss our knowledge of what is determinable.
{(B)4} We said in the previous § that the I posits itself as able either to (99)
represent something or not to represent it. What does this mean? {How
does the I posit itself in this manner?}A We are able to think of ourselves
in this way, because we have often—indeed, for as long as we have been
alive—engaged in free actions of this sort. We abstract from the deter¬
minate [objects] with which we are now familiar, and thus this is an ab¬
stract and, therefore, indeterminate type of thinking. Such thinking can
serve merely to guide us to the path leading toward what we are seeking;
it cannot convey us to the point that concerns us.B
■ Purely indeterminate thinking is the source of many errors in phi¬
losophy. {When one thinks in this way, one surveys a series of inferences
but does not see their interconnection; one notices merely the man¬
ner—that is, the laws—in accordance with which these conclusions are
3	Metaphysische Anfangsgriinde der Rechtslehre (1797) = Part I of Die Metaphysik der Sitten
(KGS, VI: 211-12n); English translation by John Ladd, The Metaphysical Elements of Justice
(Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1965). The footnote referred to by Fichte reads (in Ladd’s
translation) as follows: “Sensibility can in general be defined by means of the subjective
element in our representations, for it is the understanding that first refers the represen¬
tations to an object; that is, it alone thinks something by means of them. Now, the subjec¬
tive element in our representations may be of two kinds. On the one hand, it can be
referred to an object as a means to cognizing it (with regard either to its form or to its
matter; in the first case, it is called pure intuition and, in the second, sensation); here sen¬
sibility, as the receptivity for a representation that is thought, is sense. On the other hand,
the subjective element in our representations may be such that it cannot become a factor
in cognition, inasmuch as it contains only the relation of a representation to the subject
and does not contain anything that can be used for cognizing the object; in this case, the
representation is called feeling. Now, feeling contains the effect of the representation
(whether it be a sensible or an intellectual representation) on the subject and belongs
to sensibility, even though the representation itself may belong to the understanding or
to reason.”
4	In K, there are two sections marked “(1).” This is the first, whereas section (1) below is
the second. The structure of § 10a—with its two opening remarks followed by two num¬
bered sections—is more clearly evident in H than in K.
A The I posits itself as able either to represent something or not to represent it. This was
the result of our investigation of the question, “What is it that is determinate?” This raises
a new question: “How does the I posit itself in this manner?” The answer will be found in
the following investigation of the question, “What is it that is determinable?” (p. 99).
B Let us take this opportunity, first of all, to say a few words concerning general philo¬
sophical procedure, in order thereby to uncover the ground of all the previous errors of
philosophers:
If one answers this question, “How is it possible for the original I to think of itself as able
either to represent or not to represent something?” in a manner that is abstract, and hence,
always indeterminate, this can certainly lead us to the path toward an answer and a solu¬
tion, but never to the chief point with which this question is concerned (p. 99).

236	§ IO
reached, but one never takes note of how the individual links of the
chain are attached to one another. One is brought to a halt as soon as
one delves into the individual details. While engaging in philosophical
inquiry, therefore, one must avoid all abstract, indeterminate thinking.}
■ We may very well be able to think of ourselves as able to do or not do
something; but the original I that we are observing cannot think of itself
in this way, since it does not yet have anything from which it would be
able to abstract. We are here at the point where all acting begins.c
{The above remarks are made only in passing. Now let us turn to the
solution of the question itself:
What is it that is determinable ?
or
How is it possible for the original I to think of itself in the manner described in
the previous §, i.e., as able to represent or not to represent something}}
(1)	The I must now intuit its own determinate act of doing something—
which is the only kind of “doing” that can occur here5—and it must in¬
tuit it as such; indeed, since this is supposed to be something that the I
does freely, it must be intuited as something the I can either do or not
do. {This determinate doing of the I is called “what is determinable.”}
Determinacy has two different meanings in this context. What we are
now discussing is supposed to be “what is determinable,” that is, that
109 from which a transition to what is determinate is to be made. Neverthe¬
less, what is determinable is itself determinate in a certain respect: it is
an act of intuiting, and its determinacy consists in the fact that it is [at
the same time] an act of comprehending: {namely, it is determinate to
the extent that it is intuited or comprehended; for in order to be able to
intuit or to comprehend it, we have to think of it as something determi¬
nate. This constitutes the determinate aspect of what is determinable.}
To begin with, let us note the following:
(A)	The argument here is similar to that of the previous §; indeed, it
is only another, completely different, side of the same argument. In the
preceding § we said that the object is something upon which I am able
to reflect or not to reflect; it would, however, make no sense to say this
c In contrast, the I cannot by any means proceed in an abstract way in answering the
present question. It cannot abstract. Indeed, it still finds itself standing at the entrance to
and starting point of all comprehending (p. 99).
5	“Das Ich muß heir sein bestimmtes Thun d.h. dasjenige, was hier allein stattfinden
kann.” The “determinate doing” in question is, of course, the act of intuiting described in
the previous §§. In order to maintain the contrast between das Handeln (“acting”) and das
Tun, the latter is henceforth translated, not without a certain occasional awkwardness, as
“doing,” or some variant thereof. (“Deed” = die Tat; “to act efficaciously” or “to have an
effect upon something” = wirken.)

§ io 237
unless I had already posited the object—and thus reflected upon it.
Here too, {where we are concerned with a determinate acting,} the do- (100)
ing or acting6 of the I is supposed to be posited as something that can
either occur or not occur; this is not possible, however, unless “doing as
such” or or “in general”7 has already been posited (non entis nulla sunt
praedicata).8 {The I cannot say anything at all about its own acting with¬
out presupposing the latter. Every predicate [e.g., the predicate “possi¬
ble”] presupposes some subject to which it can be applied—and, in this
case, the subject is “acting as such.”9} Accordingly, we must necessarily
presuppose that the I’s doing has already occurred in advance of all re¬
flection upon it and appears, therefore, as something given—as we saw
to be the case with the thing in the previous §, and for the same reason.
{I cannot posit an instance of acting as “free” unless I am aware of this
very acting. This follows from the nature of my act of representing and
from the form of my sensibility.} In other words, the “doing” in question
is what is determinable, and, as such, it must be presupposed as a con¬
dition for the possibility of a transition to what is determinate, insofar as
the latter is an act of freedom.0 {Consequently, something determinable
(in opposition to the determinate aspect of what is determinable) must
be presupposed as a condition for the possibility of all possible acting,
and hence, of all consciousness as well; for before one can talk about a
possible act of doing something, “doing as such” or “¿n general” must al¬
ready be present.} In order for what is determinable to be intuited, how¬
ever, it has to be something “objective” (in the broadest sense of the
term), something that, in the act of reflecting upon the movement of
transition, has already been discovered.
(B)	[This determinability,] which appears as something given and, to
this extent, independent of freedom, must be posited as, in another
sense, dependent upon freedom. Insofar as it is something that can ei¬
ther be or not be, it appears to be dependent; on the other hand, insofar
as it must be posited as such or in general, it appears to be independent.
{In other words, the determinable something that is here given must
also actually be something determinable by freedom, insofar as it is
supposed to facilitate a choice or an act of determining.} It is viewed in
two different ways. Here, therefore, we discover a specific application of
the previously stated general principle: that all consciousness arises
6	“Das Thun oder Handeln.”
7	“ein Thun überhaupt.”
8	“Nothing can be predicated of what does not exist.”
9	“das Handeln überhaupt.”
D This “doing” is what is determinable, which is intuited as such, that is, as a movement
of transition from what is determinable to what is determinate, which constitutes the act
of freedom (p. 100).

238	§ io
from a movement of transition from what is determinable to what is
determinate.
(C)	What is determinable and what is to be determined are, however,
synthetically united within consciousness. I posit what is determinable
only insofar as I posit myself as engaged in a transition {from what is
determinable to what is determinate, that is, only insofar as I posit my¬
self as free}; and I can posit myself in this way only insofar as I posit it
[i.e., what is determinable] as given.10, E
Nothing is given [to me] unless I exercise some effect upon it, for ev¬
erything that is given to me is first given in the course of free and effi¬
cacious acting;10 11 but I cannot have any effect upon anything that is not
already present for me, {that is, unless I am clearly conscious that it hov¬
ers before me and that I posit it as able to be or not to be}.
110	(2) Thus the proposition we have to examine here is the following: “I
intuit my own doing as something in which I can either engage or not
engage.” My doing is the logical subject of the predicate “freedom.”
Therefore, my doing, as such, {my “possible doing,” what is deter¬
minable,} is itself an object of intuition in the broadest sense of the term:
it takes on the character of an “object,” inasmuch as it is something that
hovers before the ideal activity. How then will my act of doing something
appear as an object of intuition? Kant quite correctly calls a doing that
occurs, for example, in accordance with the law of causality, etc., a
“schema”12—a term he employs in order to indicate that this is nothing
actual, but is instead something that has to be constructed by means of
ideal activity for the purpose of intuition, {as required by the laws of rea¬
son. My acting is intuited as “necessary” when it is determined by the (101
laws of reason and not by a feeling.}
A schema is merely a kind of “doing”; indeed, [it describes] what I
must necessarily do whenever I intuit anything.13
Our question is therefore this: What is the schema of “doing as such”?
How is an act of doing something transformed into an object of intuition
{for us by the schematism? (For an object first arises through intuition.)}
10	“nur in wiefern ich es als gegeben seze.” Note the significant difference between this
passage in K and the parallel passage in H (translated in n. E, below): “nur in wiefern ich
mich als das gegebene setze.”
E What is given in what is determinable and what is to be determined are synthetically
united in consciousness. I posit what is given only insofar as I posit myself as engaged in
a movement of transition from what is determinable to what is determinate, that is, only
insofar as I posit myself as free; and I can posit myself as engaged in a movement of tran¬
sition or as free only insofar as I posit myself as what is given (p. 100).
11	“Es ist nichts gegeben, auser in wiefern ich darauf wirke, denn erst im freien Wirken
wird es mir gegeben.”
12	See KRV,
13	“Schema is ein bloßes Thun, und zwar mein nothgwendiges Thun in der An¬
schauung.”

§ io 239
Here, the object must be derived from intuition,14 and, with this, we
reach the limit of what can be proven from concepts alone.F
Our present task is not to observe any determinate kind of “doing”
(e.g., “thinking,” “intuiting,” etc.), but rather to observe “doing as such”
{—an inner doing, this and nothing more}. What we have to do, there¬
fore, is to describe an “agility,”15 which one can intuit only as a line that
I draw.G Accordingly, inner agility is an act of drawing a line. What we
are concerned with here, however, is not any [specific] agility that actu¬
ally occurs; instead, we are concerned with “agility as such” or “in gen¬
eral,” i.e., with a determinable but not determinate power of inner self¬
activity and agility. [Even] a line of this sort, however, is determined with
respect to its direction. But the {purely determinable] power [we are now
discussing] must contain within itself every possible line; therefore, the
schema of acting {in general, as a mere power,} must be an act of drawing
lines in every possible direction.16 This is space, and indeed, empty
space,H though it is never present as such; something is always placed
therein.1 We will soon see why this is so. Here, however, we are con¬
cerned only with “doing,” and pure, unalloyed doing is also something
that never appears [within consciousness].
§ 10.A
The act of comprehending is posited as a freely occurring act; this
means that {it} is posited by the intellect as an act that can either occur
111 or not occur, and indeed, as a specific mode of acting in general (for oth¬
erwise nothing at all would be posited). Consequently, acting as such or
in general is posited, and it is posited as something that can occur or not
occur—though acting is not possible “in general” unless one or another
specific mode of acting is posited. Consequently, this “acting in general”
exists for the intellect only as an instance of free acting—but no instance
of “free acting” can be present for the intellect without “acting as such”
14	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “muß das Object aus der Anschauung hergeieitet
worden” for K’s “ist das Object [ . . . ] hergeleitet worden.”
F The answer to this question cannot be derived from concepts; instead, we must turn to
intuition (p. 101).
15	“Agilitaet.” Fichte employs this term to designate the pure, inner movement of the
I itself, its free movement from one state to another.
G We are unable to think of agility as such; we can only intuit it. Thereby there arises a
line that I draw (p. 101).
16	“ein nach allen möglichen Directionen mögliches Linienziehen.” Following the par¬
allel passage in H, the translation omits the second occurrence of mögliches.
H Therefore, the schema of doing in general, as a mere power, must be a line spread in
every direction, and this is space; indeed, as the power of agility or of drawing lines in all
possible directions, [it is] empty space (p. 101).
1 N.B.: It will become evident below that an abstraction has already occurred here, since
there is no empty space (p. 10in).

240	§ lo
or “in general” being present for it [as well]. However, the I intuits its
sheer acting, considered as such, as an act of drawing a line, and hence
it intuits its indeterminate power to act in this way as space.
Remarks:
(1)	It has been said that space is a priori. This can mean two different
things: On the one hand, it can mean that space exists only by virtue
of the laws of reason. In this sense, everything is a priori except feeling
and the predicates of the same, {since this is empirical}. On the other (102)
hand, when one says that space is a priori one can also mean that it is
something that is given in advance of all intuition, something that is
merely determinable and that first makes intuition possible. {Every con¬
sciousness presupposes something determinable, and this appears to
ordinary consciousness as something given, something that precedes
all experience.}
These two meanings must surely be combined. Kant understands the
a priori character of space in the latter sense. According to him, space
precedes all experience and is the condition for the possibility of the
same.17 {It lies within us; it is what is determinable.}
Professor Beck has recently espoused the view that space is a priori in
the former sense,18 {namely, that space is produced by the intellect
through the laws of its reason,} which is also the view defended in the
first version of the Wissenschaftslehref
It is worth noting that the controversy that has recently arisen over
space is similar to the controversy concerning the nature of a thing: is it
given or is it produced? Both parties to this controversy are right. A
thing is determinable; and, to this extent, it is given. It is necessitated by
the laws of reason; and, to this extent, it is produced.
(2)	{It has been said that} space is the (a priori) form of outer
intuition.19 In our view, what is determinable in any intuition—i.e., what
is construed20 whenever an intuition is posited—should be called the
“form” [of intuition]. Accordingly, what is determinable within outer in¬
tuition would be the “form” of the same.K Whenever anything is intu¬
17	For Kant’s exposition of the a priori character (and hence the transcendental ideality)
of space, see, above all, sect. 1 of the “Transcendental Aesthetic” (KRVA22/B37ff.).
See Einzig-möglicher Standpunct, p. 141. This portion of Beck’s work is included in the
selection translated by di Giovanni in Between Kant and Hegel, p. 221.
J The Wissenschaftslehre occupies a middle position between these two views (p. 102).
19	This was, of course, claimed by Kant (see, e.g., KRV, A26/B42).
20	“das was [. . . ] construirt.”
K What does “form” mean? It means nothing other than what is determinable in every
intuition—to the extent that every intuition is an outer intuition or is at least ultimately
grounded in an outer intuition. Therefore, it is that through which all outer intuition is
subjectively conditioned (p. 102).

§ IO 241
ited, space is intuited. Space is what is {filled or} given shape or form in
intuition; it itself does not [actively] form anything. {(And this is the only
reasonable sense that these words can have.)}
Anything posited as something that can occur or not occur or as some¬
thing that can be applied or not be applied must appear as something
given (see A, above), and it must appear in this way because, in order for
112 us to be able to construe anything from it, it must exist for us. This is
space.L But (according to B) it must also appear as something that is de¬
terminable and dependent upon freedom, and thus space would appear
to be something that has to be united with the object and also not united
with it, for only to this extent does what is here determinable appear as
simply determinable, that is, as something dependent upon freedom. I
can posit this object in this space, and I can also not do so; I can place
this object in this space, or I can place some other object there. Freedom
of thinking and comprehending consists in just this. This “something”
[i.e., space] is simply something determinable; therefore, this synthesis
[of the object with space] must be posited as dependent upon freedom,
as something that can either occur or not occur.
To unite an object with space means to posit an object in space, or to
fill space with an object. According to C, neither of these acts is possible
apart from the other {(nothing determinate apart from something de- (103)
terminable, and vice versa)}. I cannot posit myself as freely filling space
unless space is present for me, and space cannot be present for me un¬
less I posit myself as filling it.
{How is all this to be synthetically unified?} Let us now present the
synthesis of the whole.
Our first task is to unite what was established in the previous § with
what has just been established. It is not possible to reflect upon space
without {also} reflecting upon some object in space, for space is the sub¬
jective condition for the possibility of an object and, {vice versa, reflec¬
tion upon} space is itself conditioned by the act of reflecting upon the
object. It is not possible to reflect upon an object without also reflecting
upon space, but neither is there any space without some object; conse¬
quently, they are necessarily united with each other within conscious¬
ness. Originally, neither any object nor any space is given by itself;
instead, both are given to us at the same time. But an object in space is
called “matter,” and thus it follows that what is [truly] original is
matter.21
If this is so, then what is presupposed {as given} is not merely the ob¬
ject (as in the previous §) or space (as in the present §), but both the
object and space. Together, in a single act, they constitute what is {freely}
L The space in which the object is freely posited appears to us, however (according to A,
above), as something given (p. 102).
21	“folglich ist ursprünglich Materie.”

determinable in every representation.M {I can think of no object apart
from space and of no space apart from matter; therefore, we can never
separate matter—even in thought—from a representation.23} Matter is
the synthesis of space with the object. So too at the practical level: I can
divide and combine matter, but I cannot think it away or eliminate it, nor
can I increase or decrease it, {for space and matter are the necessary
conditions for all outer representations}. Wherever our thoughts may
13 carry us, there we discover space, because we think of matter every¬
where.
{Since, according to what was said above, the union of space with an
object constitutes a filled space, it follows that there is no empty space
and that empty space can never occur, except as an abstraction.}
This proposition is of prime importance. Here we see the origin of the
entire corporeal world,24 indeed, the origin of our entire {actual
world}—including the spiritual world;25 for, as we shall see, our spiritual
world is nothing but an abstraction from the corporeal world. {The spir¬
itual world is nothing actual for us; it is merely thought of and inferred
by us, by means of abstraction, and hence it is nothing actual.
And we also obtain, along with this, a genetic understanding of how it
is that we come to assume that something external to us is given [to us].
The Critical philosophy asserts that matter originates for us through
the laws of reason—within us, not from without. Therefore, it must
know how to refute the ordinary belief of common consciousness and
must show that everything objective has its origin exclusively within us.
Accordingly, what is established here is how we arrive at matter, and why
we feel ourselves forced to assume the existence of external objects cor¬
responding to our representations.}
We have now seen how the world must come into being for us. We do
not have to assume any given material. Objectivity begins with matter,
and everything objective originates within us. I am originally limited;
and this limited state, when I reflect upon it, is feeling. In a certain re¬
spect, feeling may be taken to be what is given—but only in a certain re¬
spect, because it is equally true that a feeling is a feeling only insofar as I
reflect upon it.
M Therefore, both space and the object are posited as given, since both acts constitute
but one and the same moment; taken together, they are but a single, determinable some¬
thing, and they are necessarily united. [. . . ]
Something that fills space is called “matter.” Accordingly, matter is what is freely deter¬
minable in every representation, that from which the free activity of transition proceeds22
(p. 103).
22	“von welcher das frey thätige übergeht.”
23	“also Materie können wir nie wegdenken von einer Vorstellung.”
24	“der ganzen Körperwelt.”
25	“der Geisterwelt.”

§ IO 243
{I am originally limited, and from this there arises a feeling, from feel¬
ing there arises intuition, and from this there arise representations of
objects external to us, representations to which objects outside of us cor- (104)
respond. These objects, however, originate only by virtue of the laws of
our reason, because, according to these same laws, objects and matter
are necessarily united with space; i.e., they fill space. Space, however, is
something purely subjective, something in us; therefore, the object too
is our product.}
The treatment of this point within the Kantian presentation is not
quite accurate, and this has given rise to a system according to which
space is indeed supposed to be a priori, whereas objects are supposed to
enter space only a posteriori.26.
Kant also affirmed that objects are in space a priori, but he reached
this conclusion indirectly, {since, in his artificially constructed system,27
he began only with a priori concepts, and inserted the theory of space
only, so to speak, incidentally, since this has to do purely with intuitions
and not with concepts}. For him, space is a priori; it is ideal, and conse¬
quently, objects must be ideal too. Kant sought to expound everything
purely through concepts, which is also why his “Transcendental Aes¬
thetic” is so brief. This, however, will not do. A rational being is not
merely a comprehending subject; it is an intuiting one as well. Kant of¬
fers an inductive proof of his exposition of space {as follows: Space is
something purely ideal; therefore, what is in space, that is, matter, is
ideal as well. The account of space in the Wissenschaftslehre, on the other
hand, is developed by means of deduction rather than induction.}
■ Kant does not say that space is given; he says that something lies at
the basis of our sensible representations, that there are noumena. He
has not clearly explained himself on this point. He calls this [that is,
what lies at the basis of sensible representations] “something.” But [in
fact] this is not something that possesses being; but rather [it is] acting.
Nor has Kant given any consideration to the schema of supersensible
thoughts. Even though one can have no knowledge of what is supersen¬
sible, such thoughts are nevertheless present for us, and thus they must
surely permit of some explanation. The schema for what is supersensi¬
ble is acting.
{This, therefore, would be the first synthesis connected with the fore¬
going: I cannot posit objects and space as produced through freedom; I therefore
presuppose them to be given to me in advance.}
26	This is an allusion to the dogmatic “Kantians,” such as Fichte’s colleage C. E. Schmid
and the circle of authors associated with the Annalen der Philosophie und des philosophischen
Geistes, edited in Halle by L. H. Jacob. For a sustained critique of this type of so-called Kant¬
ianism, see, above all, sect. 6 of Fichte’s well-known “Second Introduction to the Wissen¬
schaftslehre” of 1797 (SVF, I: 468ff.).
2* “in seinem künstlichen oder aufgestellten Systeme.”

244	§ 10
Space is the form of outer intuition. Form is what is determinable in
an action of the I; thus one could also call matter “the form of outer
intuition.”N Matter is what is construed and limited in outer intuition.
114 Space is the sphere in which freedom operates, and what limits us within
space is the material, which always remains. In order to distinguish be¬
tween space and matter, one could call space “the subjective form” and
matter “the objective form” [of outer intuition].
{Now the second synthesis: On the other hand, objects and space can be
presupposed to be given only if I posit myself as free.)
If I am supposed to posit myself within space as free, then space is
presupposed. The role of freedom [here] is this: What is determined
through feeling is posited in any particular place one wishes (if it is
something that has been posited as unified) or it is posited as dispersed
in many different places (if it is something that has been posited as di¬
vided). This synthesis of a determinate place with a determinate intu¬
ition is a matter of freedom, which is free to posit the determinate
object, i.e., the object determined through the predicate of feeling, in
any place in space it desires. {The object thereby becomes movable
in space.}
Space is empty, in the sense that I—in thought—traverse it, empty it,
and place something else therein. Things are movable, because I can
posit them in this place or that.
One can make a distinction between “absolute” and “relative” space.
Absolute, {originally given} space is immovable. Relative space is the de¬
terminate position occupied by an object, and this space can be freely
moved {—the object can change its place}. From this it will follow that
freedom of acting has its origin in freedom of thinking.
From the intellect’s freedom {to posit a determinate object in a deter- (105)
minate place or space} it follows that matter, and, along with it, space,
must be infinitely divisible, since otherwise absolute freedom would be
curbed, inasmuch as it would at least be limited to thinking of a specific
part of matter in a specific part of space. {For this reason, space must
also be continuous, [and]} similarly, the continuity of space must also be
infinite: I may continue dividing space just as long as I desire, I will al¬
ways find something more to divide. Were this not the case, then, at
some point, space would come to an end, and this would constitute the
limit of my freedom. {In this case, freedom would not be absolute, for
space is the sphere of freedom.
According to what was said above, however,} I cannot think of freedom
of acting unless objects are already present for me. {And the same is true
of space, since for me space is already filled with objects.} Space is given
N If “form” means “what is determinable,” then one could also call matter “form,” and
indeed, the objective form of intuition, because, for freedom, matter is totally unmodifi-
able (p. 104).

§ io 245
to me along with objects. In order to posit a free action, in order to posit
an object in any space whatever, the object must already have a space; it
already fills a space, but it does not yet occupy any particular position
(any determinate place) in space. It simply hovers before the imagina¬
tion. Both space and the object are already present for me: this is what
is determinable {and present as an object as such; and thus freedom is
present here}. I posit this object in some determinate place: this is what
is determinate; and I think to myself that I could also have posited it in
some other place. Nevertheless, if I want to determine the object in a
115 way that accords with the truth, {and if I am supposed to intuit it
correctly,} then I have to posit it in this determinate place, {and my free¬
dom therefore expresses itself insofar as I move from what is determin¬
able to what is determinate and fill the space that has become empty
through A. See [Outline of the Distinctive Character of the] Wissenschaftslehre,
p. 400, no. i.28} This is the movement of transition. (All determination
of place is mediated and relative.)
It is only by means of freedom that an object can be present for me at
all. The object has become what it is for me because I have posited it in
just this way.
I posit the object in a determinate place. What place is this? What de¬
termines this place? All determination of place occurs only indirectly
and is relative. {That is to say, I am able to determine the place only by
means of what adjoins and borders upon the object. Even supposing
that I were to continue this process of determining a place indefinitely,
moving, for example, from the table to the wall, from the wall to the
street, from the street to the ditch, from the ditch to the royal garden,
etc.—so that, in the end, I would have filled in just as large a space as
you please: this would still be nothing in comparison with infinite space.
What is the relation between a determinate, finite space and infinite
space? In what place does the latter lie? These are questions to which
there neither can nor should be any answer, for even the most enormous
thing has no relation to infinity.}
■ I posit object A next to object B, and B next to C, etc. But how is such
a relative determination of place possible? I certainly comprehend how
a second object can be determined by a first one, and a third by this sec¬
ond; nevertheless, I still do not understand this process as a whole.
Where does this whole lie? {In space, therefore, there must surely be (106)
28 Fichte here refers to the discussion of space in GEWL, § 4, iv, 1, and specifically, to the
following passage: “The imagination separates space from the thing that actually occupies it by
positing (as it should) the possibility of completely different substances with completely
different spheres of efficacy in space z. In doing this, it projects an empty space. But it
projects this empty space only experimentally and in passing, in order to fill it again at
once with whatever substances and attendant spheres of efficacy it pleases. Consequently,
there is no empty space at all except while the imagination is making the transition from
filling the space with A to filling it with b, c, d, etc., as it chooses.”

246	§ lO
something or other that, for me, is first.} All determination of place is
subjective. At some time or another, I simply started [at some place] in
space. This determination is absolute. It is I who made this place what it
is [i.e., the first one]; otherwise it is not determined. The first place in
space is determined by nothing but my own doing.0 {It is I who posit it.
I have gathered together or scooped up such and such a quantum [of
matter], and I seize a portion of space and place the object therein.}
(This may well be the simplest argument for the ideality of space.p {See
[Outline of the Distinctive Character of the] Wissenschaftslehre, pp. 401-2, no.
5.} Later on, it will become apparent that this [first] place is determined
by the place I occupy, and that I am where I am.)
{(What then is “substantial” about a thing? Let us elucidate this ques¬
tion with the example of a tree: I remove its branches, and yet it remains
a tree. These are only its accidental properties. I imagine that half its
trunk is removed and replace it with another. Then I do the same with
the other half. Now I take away its roots and imagine other ones in their
place: It is and remains a tree. Thus I can imagine entirely different
predicates, opposites of the actual ones, and it still remains the same ob¬
ject. What then is it that is “substantial” about this tree? What constitutes
its substance? This is nothing more than the space the object fills, a space
that is tacitly thought of as filled with matter. I can think away all the prop¬
erties of the substance, and what is substantial about the object will still
remain: the space filled with matter.
Where does this leave us?
We began with the chief principle of our inquiry: “The intellect is to
posit itself as free in a certain respect.”
But it is not possible for it to posit itself in this way unless it posits itself
“in general” or “as such.”
(1)	Insofar as it is posited “as such,” the intellect is the subject of a log¬
ical judgment.
(2)	Insofar as it is posited as “free,” the intellect is the predicate of a
logical judgment. (See the previous §.)
The intellect, however, is unable to posit itself either “as such” or as
“free.”
What sort of acting, then, does it posit as free? In order for the intel¬
lect to be able to posit an instance of acting as “free,” the latter must also
appear in a twofold way: [1] as such or in general, it appears as the sub¬
ject of a logical judgment; (2) as free, it appears as a predicate of the
same.
Insofar as acting is posited as free, it is an object of intuition, to which
the predicate “freedom” is attached. In relation to the object, this free
0 The space in which the first object is posited cannot be determined in itself, however,
except by means of my doing; and this determination is absolute (p. 106).
pThis is the most illuminating argument for the ideality of space (p. 106).

§ IO 247
acting or doing of the intellect is intuited as space. Both the object and
space as such must be presupposed, however, if this act of positing a (107)
thing within space is something one can do freely. These two moments—
the presupposition [of the object and space] and the predication of free¬
dom to the intellect—are necessarily synthetically united. For in order
to be able to predicate freedom of myself, I posit X; and simply because
I have posited X, I must predicate freedom of myself.
The same is true of space. Space is that in which the object is freely
determined. This, however, is impossible unless one presupposes space
as such; and conversely, space cannot be posited as such without also
predicating freedom [of the I].)}
§ 10.B
Since the positing of the object and the positing of acting are neces¬
sarily united within the I,29 the former (the object) and the schema of
the latter [i.e., space] must necessarily be united as well. But uniting an
object with space is the same as filling space; consequently, all objects
necessarily occupy space, that is, they are material. The freedom of the
intellect consists in (i.e., expresses itself in) the synthesis of an object,
which is determined by the predicates of feeling, with a place in space,
which is determined by absolute spontaneity; and, in this way, space be¬
comes continuous, and space, as well as matter, becomes infinitely divis¬
ible. The determinacy of the latter (the intellect), without which the
former (freedom) is impossible and which is not possible without the
former, consists in this: that the object must be posited in some space or
another,30 and that space must be filled with some sort of matter.31
There is no space without matter, and vice versa. This is a matter of ne-
116 cessity; but it is a matter of freedom that this object is not situated just in
this space and that this space does not belong just to this object.
See [Outline of\ the Distinctive Character of the Wissenschaftslehre with Re¬
spect to the Theoretical Power, § 4.32
N.B. Many things are discussed in this book which cannot yet be dis¬
cussed at this point in the present exposition; consequently, this § of the
book must be read in the light of this new presentation.
29Instead of K’s “des Handeln im Ich nothwendig vereinigt sind,” H has “des Han¬
delnden Ich [. . . ] sind,” which would make this first clause read, “Since the positing of
the object and positing of the active I are necessarily united.”
30	“in einen Raum überhaupt”: that is, “in space as such or in general.”
31	“mit Materie überhaupt.”
32	SW, I: 391-411.

248	§ ÎO
p. 400, no. 1. The proper act of the representing subject consists in
placing things in space; space, however, is always filled and is never
empty, except when it is being traversed by the imagination.
pp. 400-401, no. 2. Instead of “force, which [necessarily] expresses it¬
self,” we would now have to talk about matter, which cannot be posited
except in space. Matter is infinitely divisible, and therefore space is as
well.
p. 401, no. 3. Intensity pertains to feeling; extension pertains to space.
Every feeling leads me to matter, which is a quantum and fills a space.
(Feeling expresses a relationship to us, to our concepts; for an intuition
is present only insofar as a feeling is posited.) Matter is intuitable only
insofar as it is a quantum. Matter is not a mathematical point, for it can
be divided. The continuity of space and the infinite divisibility of matter
must therefore be assumed, because these are conditions for the possi¬
bility of freedom.
p. 401, no. 4. Feelings are purely subjective. One cannot communicate
what “red,” “sweet,” “bitter,” etc., are by means of concepts, because, be¬
yond these predicates of feeling, nothing pertains to objects except that
they are matter in space.
pp. 401—2, no. 5. Take an object and posit it in space, and then ask,
“Where is this object?” This is a question that has no answer, for one
possesses no point by means of which one could determine this object.
Nevertheless, such a determination does occur, and it is based upon the
fact that the first object is posited in absolute space by means of absolute
spontaneity. The [position of the] first object we posit in space is deter¬
mined by nothing except our own thinking.
p. 402, no. 6. Imagine an observer. Wherever I look, I presuppose
space. When I see that there is an object in a certain space, I incorporate
this object into that space. All objective representing consists in the fill¬
ing of space.
{A Few Remarks on Synthetic Method
Our progress hitherto has been synthetic, for [we have been observing
how] the I itself assembles its own consciousness from all the conditions
that make its consciousness possible.
There are several methods of treating a subject synthetically:
(1) One can start with a contradiction and then simply try to resolve
this contradiction by making certain additional assumptions. This is the
type [of procedure] or method followed in the instructor’s published
Wissenschaftslehre. It is the most difficult method of all, which is why this (108)

§ io 249
particular text was not understood by the public or even by some of
those who were present at those earlier lectures.
(2)	Another method is to begin by posing for oneself a principal task,
and then to attempt to accomplish this task by introducing intermediate
principles. This is the method we have employed so far [in the present
exposition]. Our principal task was to answer the question: “How can
the I discover itself to be really active?” It was in order to accomplish this
task that we introduced the intermediate principle: “I act only insofar as
I construct for myself a concept of a goal.”
(3)	A third synthetic method is [to begin with something that has al¬
ready been established and then] to try to clarify bit by bit what remains
indeterminate and obscure in what went before. This method occupies
an intermediate position between the previous two, for what is obscure
and indeterminate is precisely what was called “contradictory” within
the context of the first method. This third method is the one we have
especially employed in our last §, and it is the one we will employ from
now on. The aim of our investigation is to present the I as an object of
intuition; hence, by following this method, we should become better and
better acquainted with our own I.}

ii7
§ 11
According to the previous §, all determination of place is purely rel¬
ative; the place of any object is determined only by its relation to the
place of some other object. But what determines the place of this first
object? The determination of the place of the first object is absolute,
{and it must be so, if one wishes to avoid circularity}. This first thing, by (108)
means of which I determine all other things, is in the place where I have
posited it. {It is determined through itself and through my absolute
acting.}
This assertion still remains imprecise and thus contradictory;A we
cannot reject it, however, for it follows as a consequence of what has al¬
ready been said, and, if such an original act of determining does not oc¬
cur, then neither do any of the other acts we have already described.
Consequently, the act in question must occur, and we must discover the
conditions for its possibility. This is the specific task of the present §.
{How then is absolute determination of place, which we must assume
for the sake of any relative determination of place, possible?}
(1) Judged in the light of everything established so far, the required act
would appear to be impossible. The place of object A [the first object] is
supposed to be determined by my acting, but the only sort of acting that
occurs here is ideal acting, for the only sort of acting predicated of the
I so far is ideal acting, intuiting, the act of positing an object in space.
{This intuition is now supposed to be what is determinate and, at the
same time, what regulates acting.
Insofar as I place an object in a determinate space, the place of this
object is characterized through my acting. What sort of acting on my
part is this? We are acquainted only with an act of positing—intuiting—
an object in this or that determinate place: Is this determinate [acting]
A Nothing is really contained in this assertion, and we cannot think it (p. 108).
[250]

§11 251
also supposed to be, at the same time, the source of the determination?1
Is the rule and law supposed be, at the same time, that which is regu¬
lated? This is not possible.} Since this ideal acting is supposed to be de¬
terminate, it cannot itself be the source of the determination in
question. What determines this mode of acting, that through which the
intuiting subject is posited as determinate (namely, as determined to in¬
tuit A), must be something that lies outside of the intuiting subject; it
must be that toward which the latter is directed.
What is self-determining and determinate is the I. The intuiting sub¬
ject is supposed to be the I; but, in the act of intuiting, the intuiting sub¬
ject cannot be both what determines and what is determined by this act.
On the one hand, what we are concerned with here is intuition. Intuition,
however, is, by its very nature, something constrained (since it must have
an object), and the reason for the determinateness2 of an intuition lies in
something other than the intuition itself. In the case of an act of intu-
118 iting, there can no question of something absolute,3 possessing its foun¬
dation within itself. On the other hand, what we are concerned with here
is not intuition in general or as such; instead, we are here dealing with
a determinate intuition, one that is supposed to be objective (i.e., to cor¬
respond to the truth). An intuition of this sort, however, is constrained
in every respect. Why is it that, if we wish to obtain a true representation
of an object, we must locate it precisely in this place in space and in no
other one?B (It can here remain undecided whether the object in ques¬
tion is itself determined by another object or is the first object we posit.)
{The answer to this question is contained in what has already been (109)
said, and thus we will not be presenting anything new here; instead, we
will merely be analyzing what was said above and determining it further
in order to increase our knowledge.
We all claim that any actual thing occupies some determinate space.
I must posit it as being where it is. This does not depend upon my
1	“soil zugleich auch das Bestimmende [. . . ] seyn?”
2	“ihres Bestimmtseins.”
3	“von Absolutsein.”
B I posit something in space; it is actually there. We remarked above that the freedom of
the intellect consists in this: that I am quite generally able to think of this object as being
somewhere other than where it actually is, and the possibility of thinking of the object in
this way is the basis for the possibility of the intellect positing itself as objectively active
when engaged in thinking—when, that is, it does not wish to proceed in accordance with
the truth.
Here, however, we are concerned with a determinate representation of place: If my rep¬
resentation is to be true, then I must represent it in this or that determinate place. There¬
fore, this [determinate representation] cannot depend upon the intuition, or the ideal
activity of the I, and upon the rules of the same.
What determines the truth of this determination of the object’s place? What forces and
requires me to think of this object as occupying precisely the place where I intuit it to be?
(p. 109).

252	§ ii
thinking; instead, the object must be posited as something whose spatial
position is determined.}
(2)	As we have seen in one of the foregoing §§,4 the foundation of all
objective thinking lies within my own state; consequently, if my thinking
of any object is to be objective, then it must refer to my own state. (To
represent something truly is to represent it in a way that serves to ex¬
plain my own state.)c When we determine the place of something, we
engage in objective thinking; therefore, this determination of place
must somehow serve to explain a certain state of mine, and every de¬
termination of place must originate within me.
The testimony of experience on this matter is as follows: One orders
things in space according to their lesser or greater distance from and
their situation in relation to oneself, that is, according to whether a
lesser or greater expenditure of {time and} energy would be required in
order to transport oneself to the place occupied by the object {—e.g., an
hour, a mile}. (Space can be measured only in terms of time, and vice
versa.) In addition, we also take into consideration whether the object
lies to our right or to our left, in front of us or to one side. {Conse¬
quently, even the place of the heavenly regions is determined in relation
to me, as the center: the East is where I see the sun rise, etc.} We should
not count this sort of testimony of experience as a proof, however.
If all determination of place begins with me, and if all objects in space
are determined through me, then I myself, as the subject who deter¬
mines the spatial position of all representations, must also be in space
prior to all representation. I must be given to myself in space.
(3)	The only representations that possess reality {and objective validity} (110)
are those that would necessarily be produced from feelings—if, that is,
feelings possessed the power of causality {and were able to have an effect
upon the representing subject} (see above).5 In the present case, a par¬
ticular determination of a place in space is supposed to be objectively
valid. (It must be determined in a certain way, because I myself am de¬
termined in a certain way, {my determination of the place of an object in
space must follow from a feeling of myself as occupying a [particular]
place}.) Consequently, I must feel myself to be in space. Space, however,
is [only] the form of intuition; it is not felt. Yet it has to be felt. Feeling
and intuition must therefore be united {within one and the same I,
which we require in order to unite intuition and feeling in one and the
119 same consciousness}; and thus there must be some third thing, which
4	Sect. F of § 9.
c I explain my own state to myself: i.e., I think objectively (p. 109).
5	Sect. F of § 9.

§11	253
serves as middle term between the two. We are already acquainted with
something of this sort. As we saw above,6 every particular feeling pre¬
supposes a system of sensibility in general, for it is only in relation to this
system that a particular feeling first becomes a particular one.D This
system of sensibility is what is determinable as a particular [feeling], and
this particular feeling constitutes what is determinate in this case. A par¬
ticular feeling, however, is a feeling of limitation, and thus the system of
sensibility is a system of limitability.7 Limitation is nothing apart from
striving, however, and a feeling of limitation is nothing apart from a feel¬
ing of striving. Accordingly, a feeling of limitability is also nothing apart
from a general feeling of striving. Something of this sort must thus be
posited if an objective act of representing is ever to occur, but this all
exists only for feeling.8 As surely as there is supposed to be intuition,
there must be feeling {—and therefore, everything contained in feeling
must be present as well}.
The feeling subject and the intuiting I are one and the same; both
states are necessarily united. But when the I posits itself as intuiting, it
posits itself, in its entirety, as intuiting; and when it posits itself as feel¬
ing, it posits itself, in its entirety, as feeling. This indivisible state of the
I thus possesses a dual nature, and this is why it presents itself under two
different aspects. The feeling of the act of feeling and the intuiting of
the act of intuiting are united. Everything depends upon this unity, and
the point of unification lies within the very nature of the I’s activity.
The I cannot be ideal without also being practical, and vice versa.
Thus there arises something twofold [i.e., feeling and intuiting]. What
we are concerned with here is itself an I;9 hence there is a feeling of feel¬
ing and an intuiting of intuiting, and, {since the entire I is felt and
intuited,} we thereby obtain something fourfold, {though we are here
concerned only with the latter, that is, with intuition. The intuition of
intuition and the feeling of feeling are separate and distinct from each
other and are posited in opposition to each other, and it is only in one
and the same consciousness that they are united. The entire I is now felt
and intuited, and this gives us something fourfold: (1) a particular lim¬
itation; (2) a [particular] striving; (3) the system of limitation as such; (4)
striving as such.} At the same time, we are concerned with the I as an
object of intuition. Space and matter constitute the form of intuition.
6	Sect. 6 of § 6.
D In relation to my entire state, I am (again, according to what was said above) supposed
to unite two feelings and intuition; this, however, would not be possible if the system of
sensibility did not continually endure (p. 110).
7	“das System der Begrenzbarkeit.”
8	“dieP aber ist nur ftirs Gefühl.” Cp. H: “dies alies liegt nur im Gefühl” (“this all lies
only in feeling”).
9	That is, feeling and intuiting are here supposed to be explicitly posited by the (ob¬
served) I itself, and not merely by the philosophical observer.

254	§ 11
Accordingly, insofar as the I is limited and striving, it is transformed into
matter in space. {For there is nothing in space but matter, and thus, if
the I is to exercise its practical activity in space, it must also be material.
We will have more to say below concerning the I’s spiritual nature.} (111)
Striving in general is, as such, endless; it aims at causality without end.
This is why space must be infinite. This striving is {infinite and} abso¬
lutely free; there is no possible respect whatsoever in which it could not
further determine or arrest itself,E and it is thereby that space and mat-
120 ter become infinitely divisible, {to the extent that my striving is thought
of as such and as an activity}. This conclusion was presented in the pre¬
vious § simply as a consequence of the freedom of thinking. It is here
traced back to a still higher source: the freedom of striving.
Insofar as my striving lacks causality, i.e., insofar as limitation is
present, striving is a complete and self-contained, limited quantum.10
On the other hand, at this point I am {also} free: It is up to me and to my
own power of self-determination to extend these boundaries and
[thereby] to endow my striving with causality. The space in which I am
supposed to exist is subject to my control. The matter in space which I
am supposed to be, along with the parts of the same, is dependent upon
me. This, insofar as it is articulated,11 is my body.
{The space and matter within which I am and which I myself become
within intuition must be free, for the place and position in which I am—
as space—depend upon my will, upon my movement.} Moreover, I have
to assume that I am actually able to divide this matter in space outside of
me, not merely that I am able to think of it as divisible. However, I can¬
not do this directly, simply by willing it; instead, I must operate indi¬
rectly, through some intermediary states. The only matter upon which
the mere will is able to exercise any [direct] effect is my body—consid¬
ered not in terms of its organic systems, but rather as something
articulated.12 (We are here concerned with the body insofar as it is that
by means of which I am able to perceive and to have an effect upon
things. That is to say, I am here concerned with it insofar as it senses and
acts,13 {i.e., insofar as it is the location of my feelings of “sweet,” “hard,”
“red,” “loud,” etc.}. My body is the system of my feelings, the medium
through which intuiting and feeling are united. My will has no effect
upon my digestion and circulation, but I can control the movement of
my hand or foot.)
E There is no possible respect in which my striving could bring itself to a halt (p. 111).
10	“so ist es ein geschlopnes, begrenztes Quantum.”
11	“artikulirt.” By referring to the body as “articulated,” Fichte means to emphasize its
capacity for deliberate, consciously controlled movement.
'2 “mein Leib, in wiefern er articulirt, nicht in wiefern er organisirt ist.”
13	“in wiefern er Sinn ist und Organ.”

§11	255
Therefore, when the system of my limitability is thought of in syn¬
thetic unity with my striving, I become for myself an articulated body.F
Intuition and feeling are thereby united; I intuit myself as feeling inso¬
far as I feel myself to be intuiting an object in space. {Therefore, I do not
feel myself in space; instead, I intuit myself as the feeling subject, and
indeed, as feeling myself in space, and [only] thereby do I intuit myself
as feeling objects in space.}
(4)	Intuition is now directed at an object in space, and this will provide
us with an important result: only an intuition of a determinate object
outside of me is a determinate intuition; moreover, according to our ac¬
count, it is the first determinate intuition. (The intuition of myself as an
object comes only later and is based upon a free act of reflection.) Actual
consciousness begins not with us, but rather with objects.0 Only later do
121 I intuit and obtain any consciousness of myself, and I do this by abstract¬
ing from things and reflecting upon myself. {Therefore, every act of
comprehending begins with an intuition of the object and with a concept
of the same. Only in the intuition of an object do I first become an in¬
tuiting subject at all and comprehend myself. Accordingly, we are not yet
concerned with the acting of my body in space; instead, we are here con¬
cerned with my body only insofar as it is the means by which I feel and
intuit myself in space.}
The indeterminate but determinable state of the intellect with which
all intuition14 begins is the intuition of an infinite space filled with mat¬
ter. (At bottom, this is really an intuition of an infinite striving. It is only
the philosopher who posits the temporal priority {of this intuition of the (112)
whole of infinite space}. In fact and within consciousness, this intuition
is present in all the moments of consciousness we have displayed so far
and in all those that still remain to be displayed.)15 In this state {of in¬
finite striving and intuiting} I am limited, and the sphere of space and
matter is thereby divided for me into two portions; I become something
[material] for myself, and at the same time something else outside of me
F In intuition, the system of my limitation and my striving—in their synthetic unity, i.e.,
as a result of the limitation of my striving—becomes for me my (articulated) body (p. 111).
G Intuition is here directed upon the object, for only this is a determinate intuition; and
indeed, it is the first determinate [intuition], since the beginning of actual consciousness
proceeds from objects, and the I loses itself in the latter (p. 111).
14	K: “sie”; H: “alle Anschauung.”
15	“in der That aber und im Bewustsein kommt sie vor, im Bewustsein aller der Mo-
mente, die wir bisher aufgezeigt haben und noch aufgezeigen werden.” This sentence re¬
quires some modification or correction as it stands. Unfortunately, the corresponding
passage in H (“im Bewu^seyn aber kommt sie in synthetischer Vereinigung vor”) provides
little help. The basic idea here seems to be, as Radrizzani points out, that the intuition of
infinite space accompanies and is “synthetically united with” every moment of actual con¬
sciousness.

256	§11
(the remaining matter)H also comes into being for me. Since I myself am
limited, my intuition of myself is also limited.
■ This intuition of myself is the portion that determines the whole
(and what is determined thereby is the intuition of objects in space and
the position of the same), and thus every determination of space begins
with a determination of myself within space. I occupy the absolute
place; the space I occupy is directly [determined]; all the rest of space is
[determined] only indirectly. I intuit myself not as an object of intuition,
but rather as engaged in feeling; and as surely as I intuit myself at all, I
fall into space, though I do not notice this. All my intuiting of objects is
guided and determined by my own being in space—which appears to me
as something felt.1
One originally determines the place of a thing in space by judging this
for oneself, that is, by making an estimate of its position, or “eyeballing”
it.16 The standard of measure one applies in this case lies immediately
within the eye: I apprehend a larger and a smaller portion of space and
measure the former by the latter; i.e., I calculate the quantum of “see¬
ing” needed to reach this place or that; {through my seeing, I “pull”
space into myself}.
But does seeing possess quantity? Is not seeing, considered as the ex¬
ternal schema of inner ideality,J something absolute, {and, if this is so,
then would [not] the objects have to pile up on top of—and collapse
into—one another}? This is indeed true; what is involved in spatial de¬
termination, however, is not simply pure seeing, but instead, {it is united
with} the {inner} intuition of a line that I have to draw in order to reach
the place in question. I describe this line as follows: I appraise my striv¬
ing; that is to say, I estimate how much energy {and time} I would have
122 to expend, how many steps I would have to take beyond the place where
I am, in order to reach the place occupied by a certain object. (The first
standard of measure is unquestionably the step or pace—assuming, that
is, that with every step I take I abandon my former place completely and
enter an entirely new one.) {My striving is here the standard of measure,
and the place where I stand is the terminus a quo.17 This procedure of
H I thereby become something for myself, and something comes into being outside of
me, namely, the rest of nature (p. 112).
11 posit myself not as an object of intuition, however, but as the subject who is active
therein. The intuition of myself thus appears as a mere feeling, as what makes [the intu¬
ition] necessary, as the determining portion, whereas the intuition of the object appears as
the determinate portion [of the entire sphere of space and matter]. Consequently, all de¬
termination of space originates with the determination of myself in space—and vice versa.
I first intuit the object, but in this intuition I must appear to myself as the intuiting subject;
I intuit myself only as the feeling subject, however, and I thereby fall into space for myself
(p. 112).
16	“nach Gutdünken, oder wie man sich ausdrückt nach dem Augenmaße.”
J To be sure, seeing is something absolute, the outer schema of inner activity (p. 112).
17	“starting point.”

§11	257
mine is immediate; it cannot be learned, it can only be improved by
practice.
From this one can see that the way we represent things has an influ¬
ence upon the way in which our practical power is determined; the
thought of objective truth is founded upon this.} With this, we have ar¬
rived at the first notable point where the necessary relationship between
our representations and our practical power is presented.
(5)	What determines and what is determined are now synthetically
united. I cannot posit anything in space without also positing myself in
space; nor can I posit myself in space without also positing other things
in space, for I can posit myself only insofar as I posit things. {Space itself,
however, I posit absolutely.}
§ 11
Every object obtains its place in space from its relation to the repre¬
senting subject, and, apart from this relationship, no determination of
place is possible. Anything that is supposed to determine the position of
another thing in space, however, must itself be in space. Accordingly, a
rational being posits itself in space as a practically striving being. This
internally18 felt striving, which obtains the form of intuition through the
act of intuiting the object (an act that is necessarily united with feeling),
is the original and immediate standard of measure for every determi¬
nation of place. It is not possible to posit anything in space without also
discovering oneself to be in space, but one cannot discover that one is in
space unless one posits an object in space.
18	Though Krause’s MS has “neuerlich” (“recent”) here, both H and the summary of the
dictata at the beginning of K have “innerlich,” which is surely the correct reading.

122
§ 12
According to the previous § (§ 11), I am able to measure the distance
of an object from me according to how much force or energy I would
have to expend in order to reach the position occupied by the object.
123 (But how is it possible to measure this quantum, i.e., this suppressed
striving, so that one can subsequently employ it to measure other
things?) Everyone will surely find that this account is confirmed by ex¬
perience, but this is not a philosophical explanation, for one can still ask,
How is it possible to measure this very exertion of energy, so that one
can subsequently employ it to measure other things? This is the question
we will be trying to answer in the present §. In order to answer it, how¬
ever, we will first have to become thoroughly acquainted with the rep¬
resentation of energy or force,1 and we will have achieved such an
acquaintance only when we have shown how this representation be¬
comes present within the intellect. {In order to answer this question we (113)
must first ask, What is “force as such” or “in general”? How does the
intellect acquire this concept? Thus, here again, the practical and the
theoretical powers border upon each other.}
(1) The representation {[or] concept} of force can be derived only from
our consciousness of willing and of the causal power2 that is united with
willing. Hence the first question we must answer here is the following:
What precisely is it that we discover when we discover ourselves to be
engaged in willing and when we ascribe to this willing the power of ex¬
ercising causality2 within the sensible world? This is something that can¬
not be derived from concepts alone; {it has to be demonstrated within
1	“die Vorstellung von Kraft.”
2	“Causalitat” in both instances. Here, as before, Fichte uses this term to designate not so
much the relationship between two things or events (“cause and effect”) as the causal power
of an agent, that is, its capacity to effect a change in something else. Hence it is often ren¬
dered here as “power of causality.”
[258]

§ i2 259
intuition}. Willing is something immediate and original, which cannot
be derived from anything higher.A One has to reproduce for oneself
willing as such, along with the form of the same, and one must observe
oneself while thus engaged in willing. {Simply will something and ob¬
serve how you do this. But this command presupposes the following.} To
begin with:
{(A)} Let one think of oneself as a deliberating subject: Shall I do this
or shall I do that? Or shall I, instead, do some third thing? While delib¬
erating in this manner, the actions I am considering appear, within the
representation, to be quite determinate. I think of these as possible ac¬
tions, that is, as actions dependent upon my decision—but only as possible
ones.B So long as I am engaged in deliberating, the concept of action con¬
tinues to oscillate between several different [possible] actions and is not
yet fixed upon any specific one of them, {since the opposite action has
not yet been renounced. Thus, so long as we have not yet made up our (114)
minds, the concept of acting appears to us in this oscillation.}
Let one now cease to deliberate, and instead, come to a decision: {The
concept of our acting now appears to us as something that is the sole
thing that should occur.} What has been willed now appears to be the
sole thing that ought to be done, and willing itself now appears as a cat¬
egorical demand, an absolute postulate of actuality. {(One should not yet
think here of the categorical imperative.)} Deliberation concerns noth¬
ing but possibility; willing is supposed to bring into being for the first
time something new, something that is not yet present. {What is willed is
present as something actually demanded; it is a demand placed upon
actuality.} Yet this same thing has already become present idealiter; for, in
deliberating, I have already confronted my willing with the various
events that could possibly ensue—but I have considered them only
problematically. Therefore, this new thing [that is supposed to come
into being as a result of my willing] can be described as something that
124 has now, for the first time, been “released,” for it continued to be held
back while I was deliberating. Consequently, willing appears as a process
of emerging {from a self-imposed limitation of the power of willing, a
limitation from which one is released through willing and which is can¬
celed by directing the will upon something determinate,} and as a pro¬
cess of voluntary limitation, inasmuch as one focuses one’s will upon a
single new object. In deliberating, our striving is dispersed and is, to this
extent, not an act of willing. It is only when this dispersed striving is con¬
centrated upon a single point that it is called “willing.” This conclusion
A Willing is what is absolutely first and most immediate (p. 113).
B How do these thoughts appear to us? We certainly have a determinate representation
and a determinate concept of the possible actions—as something possible, dependent
upon us (p. 113).

26o	§ 12
follows from our previously stated principle: that the I discovers itself
{and becomes conscious of itself only} in a movement of transition from
indeterminacy to determinacy, and only in the course of such a transi¬
tion can one become conscious of one’s own willing. {This act of concen¬
tration is the point where the movement of transition occurs.3 We are
conscious of our own willing only insofar as we are engaged in such an
act of concentration.
In what manner do we become conscious of our own will?—with re¬
spect, that is, to the form of the same; for hitherto we have considered
only the material of the will.}
Deliberating and {determinate} willing are nothing but {determinate}
acts of thinking: the first, a problematic; the second, a categorical one.
But everything in the I—and thus its willing as well—must be posited
by the I. {Therefore, no act of thinking is present in the I unless it posits
this act of thinking.} Accordingly, we possess an immediate conscious¬
ness of the specific act of thinking we call “an act of willing.” I will
something only insofar as I think of myself as a willing subject; and I
think of myself as willing only insofar as I will something.0 These are
inseparably linked. The will is something absolutely primary,0 some¬
thing that, with respect to its form, is not conditioned by anything else.
{Subject and object are here one and the same. In this case, there is no (115)
object hovering before the subject (as in outer intuition). The will has
no schema, for the act of willing is not separated within consciousness
from the act of thinking of willing. In contrast, whenever I entertain a
representation of an object, I introduce a distinction between the rep¬
resented object and myself as the representing subject; in willing, how¬
ever, I am one: the subject that thinks of itself as willing, as well as the
willing subject.} Willing is like feeling, before which, because it is some¬
thing {absolute and} immediate, there also hovers nothing that might be
abstracted from the act itself. {Something immediate of this sort is
needed in order to derive therefrom what is mediated. Willing is there¬
fore what is highest and original. Nothing exists if I do not think of my¬
self as willing.}
This immediate concept of willingE serves as the foundation for a sys¬
tem of those concepts Kant calls “noumena” and through which he es¬
tablishes a system of the intelligible world,4 {though Kant did not
3	“ist der Punkt des Uebergehens.”
c This determinate act of thinking we call “willing” is, accordingly, immediate. Through
the act of thinking of willing, I will [something]; and because I will [something], I think of
the act of willing (p. 114).
D Accordingly, the will is something absolute (p. 115).
E This concept of my immediate willing (p. 115).
4	See KRV, A235/B2Q4ff.

§ 12 26 1
ground them deeply enough}. These have given rise to many misunder¬
standings and are not properly integrated into his system.5
To be sure, Kant does say that one has to think these noumena, but he
does not explain how and why one must do so.F For him, they remain
qualitates occultae.6 He maintains that there is no bridge leading from the
sensible to the supersensible world.7 8 This is a consequence of his one¬
sided treatment of the I in the Critique of Pure Reason, in which he con¬
siders the I only as ordering the manifold, and not as producing the
same.
The Wissenschaftslehre has no trouble in constructing such a bridge. Ac¬
cording to the Wissenschaftslehre, the intelligible world is the condition
for the possibility of the world of appearances; the latter is constructed
upon the basis of the former. The intelligible world, in turn, rests upon
its own proper center, namely, the I itself, which is a whole only in the act
125 of willing. All representations originate in the act of thinking of
willing.8,0
This concept of willing is the foundation upon which everything in¬
tellectual or spiritual (i.e., everything that consists in mere thinking)
rests, and it is thereby that the I itself becomes spiritual or intellectual.9
We have already seen {in the preceding §} that the I is corporeal {or (116)
material}. These two different aspects of the I must be united.
A concept that ushers us into the intelligible world (a “noumenon”)
would therefore be something produced solely by thinking {without any
feeling or intuition whatsoever}—just as the concepts of external ob¬
jects, which, we have asserted, are not produced purely by thinking, are
called “sensuous” or “sensible” concepts.10 {What is produced by feeling
and intuition are “phenomena,” sensible appearances, for I claim that
something outside of me corresponds to them.
5	“Sie [. . . ] stehen in dem Kantschen Systeme abgerißen und getrennt von dem übri¬
gen da.” Literally: “They are isolated and separated from everything else in the Kantian
system.”
F Kant’s noumena hover there in complete isolation. He says that you must place some¬
thing of this sort at the basis of experience; if the “why?” and the “how?” of this are not
deduced, however, then this way of proceeding is not a strictly philosophical one (p. 115).
6	“Occult qualities.”
7	See sect, ii of the Introduction to the Critique of Judgment (1790) (KGS, V: 175-76); En¬
glish translation by Werner S. Pluhar (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1987).
8	“Alle Vorstellungen gehen aus vom Denken des Wollens.” I.e., it is through (involun¬
tary) reflection upon or awareness of our own act of willing that we first become conscious
of objects.
G The world of appearances is erected upon the intelligible world, and the latter is based
upon the I—which is based upon itself. Only in the willing of the I are the subject and the
object simultaneously one and the same. By willing and thinking of willing, the I produces
something new (p. 115).
9	“wodurch das Ich selbst geistig wird.”
10	“sinnliche heißen.”

262 § 12
(B) Thus we ourselves produce our own willing.} Kant denied [the
possibility of] intelligible intuition because he failed to answer the ques¬
tion concerning the origin of the noumenon. {Kant says that concepts
such as “will,” “force,” etc., are noumena and that such concepts are sim¬
ply present. But present for whom? Surely there are not two I’s. Noum¬
ena and phenomena are both present for the same, undivided I.} (See
Hülsen’s contribution to the prize-essay topic, “What Progress has Meta¬
physics Made since Leibniz and Wolff?”)1
{How then do I know that such concepts [i.e., “noumena”] are
present? The usual answer is: “through immediate consciousness.” This,
however, surely means nothing other than “through intelligible intuition.”
I observe myself in the act of thinking, but without any [reference to]
space, since otherwise this would be a sensible intuition.}
Such concepts could also be called “pure concepts,” and the power to
produce such concepts11 12 could be called “pure reason.” {Hence Kant’s
Critique of “Pure Reason.” The Wissenschaftslehre, however, is something
entirely different.} Since the Wissenschaftslehre deals with the entire range
of consciousness, {with everything that the whole I produces in accor¬
dance with its entire power,} it must include an exposition of the con¬
cepts of phenomena as well as those of noumena.
(2)	In order to make the concept of willing even clearer, let us compare
and contrast it with the concept of wishing. To begin with, something is,
{as Kant said,13} supposed to be able to be brought into being or
“realized”14 by means of willing, whereas the same cannot be said of a
wish. To be sure, what is wished for, as well as “wishing” itself, may be
taken in two different senses. On the one hand, one may understand
that one is wishing for something that does not depend upon oneself,
even though one still wants it; or, on the other hand, one may wish for
something that does depend upon oneself, though one does not want to
take the trouble to bring it into being.H Many people who never seri¬
ously “will” anything {and never resolve to employ the means necessary (117)
11	A. L. Hülsen (1765-1810) was a student and colleague of Fichte’s at Jena. Hülsen’s
“examination” of the celebrated prize-essay topic proposed by the Berlin Academy of the
Sciences was published in 1796. As Fuchs has pointed out, however, his major discussion of
the topic at issue is not to be found in this essay at all, but rather in another one, titled
“Philosophische Briefe an Hrn. v. Briest in Nennhausen,” which Hülsen published in 1798
in Fichte’s own Philosophisches Journal einer Gesellschaft Teutscher Gelehrten, 7,1:71—129; rPl-
in Aus der Frühzeit des deutschen Idealismus: Texte zur Wissenschaftslehre Fichtes 1794-1804, ed.
Martin Oesch (Würzburg: Königshausen und Neumann, 1987), pp. 87—112.
12	“das Vermögen dazu.”
13	See the note to sect, iii of the Introduction to the Critique of Judgment, KGS, V: 177—
7811).
14	“soll etwas realisirt werden können.”
H On the other hand, one can understand that what one wishes for is indeed something
that depends upon our will and still not resolve to will it (p. 117).

§ 12 263
to achieve what they wish} are content to engage in wishing of this latter
sort. {Examples of the latter are those who want to be well educated or
virtuous without expending any effort and without conquering the
passions.} Such impotent wishing is often confused with willing, a con¬
fusion that leads to a complete misunderstanding of the mighty power of
willing.
{The first sort of wishing, where one understands that one wishes for
something that does not depend upon our will (for example: the wish
that someone would give me a thousand thalers), has little to contribute
to the present distinction between wishing and willing.} Here we are
concerned with “wishing” only in the second of the above senses. Such
wishing involves something determinate, distinct from all the opposed
wishes. My willing no longer wavers between opposites, as it does when
I am deliberating; a wish is firmly attached to an object, {and in this re¬
spect it is similar to the will}: all that is lacking is the form of willing. The
content is present, but one does not want to resolve to do anything. {As
126 in the case of will,} wishing also involves a demand for an object, but, in
this case, the object is not demanded unconditionally. {Wishing always
involves a conditional form of thinking: were certain conditions to dis¬
appear, then I might well will the same object [for which I now merely
wish]. If, for example, no industry and effort were required in order to
become well educated [then I might will to be well educated]. But where,
in the case of willing, does the unconditional aspect of the demand lie,
and what ingredients are still missing from wishing?} One can wish not
only for the object of willing, which is something that is supposed to be
made real, but also for something to cease to exist or not to occur.
When I will something, I simply abstract from everything except what
I have willed; I renounce everything else. When I [merely] wish for
something, however, something always continues to hold me back: fear
of exertion, fear of the consequences, etc. Willing involves the concen¬
tration {of my striving and thinking—} of the entire {inner} person, with
all its powers, {—} upon a single point; {whereas, in wishing, the imag¬
ination continues to wander}. An act of intense attentiveness, {that is,
the limitation of my thinking to a single point,} provides the proper im¬
age of willing, {and such attentiveness comes into being only through an
act of willing}.1 (Many people dream with their eyes open and let their
thoughts wander aimlessly from one thing to another. If anything good
and right is ever to come into being, one has to think in a determinate
manner—one thing after another, and connecting each thought with all
the rest.)
1 Expressed in an image: in willing, a person contracts his entire being into a single
point, and everything else, everything outside of this point, no longer exists for the whole
person (p. 117).

2Ö4	§ 12
The object of willing is a determinate series of acting and sensing. “I
will something”: this means that the present state of my feelings, or the
object that is presently in a certain condition, ought to become other
than it is.
There is no gap, however, between moment A and moment There
must be a gradual transition from the one to the other, since otherwise
the unity of consciousness would not be preserved and I would cease to
be the same I.
When we will something, we turn our thoughts in a specific direction
and focus all our thinking in this direction, from which the imagination
is not allowed to deviate. Our thoughts also have a certain direction
when we wish for something, but in this case our imagination is allowed
to deviate from the course selected {and is free to detach links from this (118)
chain or to skip over them}.
The particular concept of energy or force that is united with the will
is derived from this act of compelling and forcing the imagination to
proceed only in a certain direction. It is impossible to imagine a will
without at the same time imagining some impulse, some application of
power.15,K Willing is genuine inner efficacy, an act of affecting oneself.16
In an act of willing, I seize control of my wandering thoughts and re¬
strict them to a single point.
This representation of inner, efficacious acting appears within con-
127 sciousness as something that hovers between feeling and thinking.L It is
what one might call an “intelligible feeling.” {It is not a feeling in the
proper sense of the word, because it does not involve any limitation, but
rather the opposite: it is an act of breaking down the limitations that
arise in the course of deliberation, limitations that are now overcome by
resolve. This is an intelligible feeling, however, inasmuch as} the imagi¬
nation, left to its own devices, wanders, and an inner exertion of energy
is required in order to constrain it. By constraining my own imagination
in this way, I become immediately conscious of this act, of this constrain¬
ing; and this is how the intelligible world is connected with the world of
J Everything willed involves a continuous, determinate series of acting and feeling. It
involves a transition from one state of feeling to another; or (to express the same point
with respect to the intuition of an object) this object should no longer remain, but, rather,
another one ought to take its place. The thing ought to become other than it is. There can
be no gap, no hiatus, contained in any act of willing; instead, willing is a continuous series
in a specific direction (pp. 117-18).
15	“ohne sich zugleich einen Anstoß, eine Anwendung von Gewalt zu denken.”
K From this act of compelling the imagination not to wander there arises the concept of
“force”—the energy to do something—an application of power, an impact (p. 118).
16	“Das Wollen ist wahres inneres Wirken, Wirken auf sich selbst.”
L We have no specific term to designate this inner, efficacious acting. It oscillates be¬
tween representation and feeling, and is neither completely one nor completely the other
(p. 118).

§ 12 265
appearances.M {I limit myself in a certain direction: this would be [an
expression of) the pure force of the intellect, insofar as the intellect concen¬
trates itself by this act of willing; consequently, this act of focusing myself
upon a single point produces a feeling of force.} This feeling marks the
first appearance of inner force;17 [hence] one might call what appears
within this feeling “pure force,” or “force applied to itself.” It is an effect
a rational being exercises upon itself.18
Remark [1]: Concerning the theoretical and practical points of view:
{As a human being, I can consider myself from two different points of
view: from the theoretical and from the practical viewpoint.} The
former consists in freedom of thinking, which, however, is not a lawless
freedom, but is, rather, one that proceeds in accordance with rules. This
sort of freedom, however, does not apply to acting; for in the case of act¬
ing {there is no choice of a direction and no comparison is possible;
instead,} the will is focused upon a single object. {Life is based upon the
practical point of view, and proceeds from genuine willing.19 This prac¬
tical viewpoint, this genuine willing, is more important.} The best way to
avoid confusing these two points of view is to take one’s stand securely
upon the practical viewpoint: really learn how to will. If one is a spec¬
ulative thinker, then one will also have a secure grip upon the theoretical
point of view.
Remark 2: Kant once said that it may seem odd to say that a rational
being affects itself.20 But there no longer appears to be anything odd
about this once one has become adequately acquainted with the nature
of reason, the very essence of which is to act upon itself. A more appro¬
priate question would be to ask how this act of self-affection appears
within consciousness. An act of this sort is confronted by some resis¬
tance, which has to be overcome; [therefore] this expression [of the act
of self-affection] is called “feeling.”
(3)	Let us assume that this will possesses causal power, i.e., that what one
wills is supposed to appear immediately within experience. (We are not
yet prepared to consider the origin of this assumed harmony, by means
of which, through an act of willing, something corresponding to the
same is supposed to occur within experience. Here we are considering
M In this way, the outer world can be connected with the inner one (p. 118).
17	“was in diesem Gefiihle vorkommt, ist die erste innere Kraft.” Literally: “What ap¬
pears in this feeling is the first inner force.”
18	“sie ist Wirkung des Vernunftwesens auf sich selbst.” Radrizzani plausibly suggests
that the word Wirkung in this sentence is a mistranscription of Wirhen. So modified, the
sentence would read, “It is the efficacious acting through which a rational being affects
itself.”
19	“aus dem rechten wollen.”
20SeeKRV, B153.

266 § 12
only the representation of causal power, along with the manifold that
appears within this representation.)
{What is involved in this “causality”?}
The state of my feelings alters when I perceive an instance of causal¬
ity; this is a continuous movement from A to B, which includes no gap or
hiatus. {The I advances continuously through a series of feelings, from
the state with which it begins, as soon as it wills anything, to the state (119)
128 that it wills.} If I think of the entire aggregate of {my} feelings as a line,
then I will discover along this line no two contiguous points that would
be entirely opposed to each other, {since this is supposed to be a contin¬
uous series}. {How then is a manifold possible?}
■ If, however, I were to remove any two segments from this line, these
would always be entirely opposed to each other.21 For example, the
state of feeling in consequence of which I am forced to assume that A is
unhewn marble undergoes a particular alteration, and, in consequence
of [this new] feeling, I am forced to assume that A is a statue. This ap¬
pears to be incomprehensible. What is involved here, however, is not a
matter of comprehending (of thinking) at all; instead, it is a matter of
intuiting, and occurs only through a particular operation of the imagi¬
nation (with which we will become acquainted in the course of our de¬
duction of time). The advance [from one feeling to the next] must be
continuous, for otherwise the unity of consciousness would be de¬
stroyed; therefore, consciousness remains, because consciousness is a
unity.22 Nevertheless, the various individual feelings are, as such, pos¬
ited in opposition to one another, and thus several different feelings can¬
not occur, in one and the same respect, within a single act of feeling.
How then is this manifold {of opposed feelings} supposed to be unified
within causality?N We said above23 that the various feelings must be re¬
lated to a power of feeling,24 which endures and remains the same
throughout the various states. We will again encounter a similar answer
here, but in a more specific form than before; and this will explain how
21	“so sind diese im ganzen immer entgegengesezt.”
22	“und sonach bliebe <das> Bewustsein, weil das Bewustsein Einheit ist.” Radrizzani
suggests that there may be a lacuna in the first clause, and proposes to emend this passage
to read, “for otherwise the unity of consciousness would be destroyed, and consciousness
itself along with it, because consciousness is a unity.”
N But these various [feelings] must be again related to one another; for otherwise, the
unity of consciousness would suffer and would not be possible, since feelings posited in
opposition to one another cannot occur [simultaneously] within one and the same I. How
then are these opposed feelings supposed to be united and compared with one another?
I.e., how can an entire series of feelings be considered as one, as a continuous flow and
progression from A to B? (p. 1 ig).
2^ See sect. 4 of § 8.
24	“ein in beiden Zuständen fortdauerendes Gefühlsvermögen.” As with all the other
“powers” of the I, the term Gefühlsvermögen (“power of feeling”) designates the ability or
capacity of the 1 to do something or to be affected in a certain manner: in this case, to
“feel” or to be aware of feelings.

§ 12 267
we are able to unify our manifold representations in time and why we
consider ourselves to be the same sensing subject throughout all the
changes in sensation. The manifold, however, is not simply supposed to
be unified within consciousness in some general way {by the intuiting
subject (as occurred above)}; but rather it is also to be thought of as the
effect of a single, undivided determination {[or] efficacy} of the will;
{i.e., this manifold is supposed to be taken to be a product of the I and
is supposed to be related to its will in such a way that precisely this man¬
ifold and no other one should result from willing}—for only if we think
of the manifold as unified in this way are we able to think of the will as
exercising causality.
The required unification is possible only if each individual member of
the entire aggregate [of feelings] is considered to be conditioned by a
certain other member, at the same time that it itself conditions a certain
third one. Every possible B one grasps must be viewed as conditioned by
some A. (Conversely, A might well exist even if B did not; for B does not
condition A in turn. B is related to some C in the same way that A is re¬
lated to B, etc.) B, therefore, must also be viewed as the condition for
something else = C. B must be viewed as something that could not exist
unless it were preceded by a certain A, etc. {In this way, the manifold
becomes a series, and} the relationship between these various moments
is one of dependence; accordingly, the relationship between the various
feelings that make up the manifold of feeling is one of dependence, and
only by virtue of this does this manifold become a series. The best illus-
129 tration of this is provided by the movement {in a particular direction} of
a body in space.
{In a relationship of dependence, however, every individual member is
merely possible and none is necessary, except the first one. Every suc¬
cessive moment is therefore conditioned [by this relationship], but is not
determined [by it].} Let us assume that a body is at point A and that I
move it to point B. It would not be at point B if it had not been at point
A; but this is not to say that it necessarily had to move from A to B. Every
preceding member is related to the ones that follow in the same way that
what is determinable is related to what is conditioned (or determined),
and not in the way that what determines something is related to what is
determined [thereby]. {More specifically, what is determinable is a possible
manifold, from which a single member is selected; this member, how¬
ever, is not produced by the one that precedes. It is not claimed or spec¬
ified that the member that [actually] follows the first is the only one
possible; instead, it is merely conditioned. What is claimed is this: if this
[that is, the second member in the series] is to be possible, then the first
must be actual.} A considerable number of movements can occur after A,
and this entire manifold is conditioned by A. If the object is at point A,
I can then move it from A to any other possible point; if, however, it is

268 § 12
not at A, then I cannot move it in any of these possible directions. In
relation to any member [of this series], the one that follows is merely
possible; it becomes actual only if the will selects precisely this direction.
The manifold of feeling is {actually} unified as such or in general by (120)
this relationship of dependence. {Every possible member I apprehend
must be preceded by another, which is pushed to the rear. I cannot think
of any one [member of this manifold] apart from all of them.} But how is
this manifold of feeling united with the I, in the concept {as a product}
of the will?25 Whenever the I appears, there is always some movement of
transition, in which the state that follows is not identical with the one
that preceded it, {and it is through the I that this transition is explained}.
In such cases, the I is the determining subject, i.e., it contains within it¬
self the basis for the movement of transition from determinability to de-
terminacy. {Why is precisely C selected after B, since there are certainly
many other possible points? The I, as the determining subject, is the rea¬
son for this.} The direction of this movement appears within the efficacy
[of the I],26 and where this efficacy ceases, the direction ceases. I appear
to myself as an I throughout this entire series [of feelings], for I am what
is determinable throughout this entire series.
■ Here we obtain the concept [we have been looking for]; for, to begin
with, everyone can see that what we are talking about here is not the
unification of the manifold of feelings, for the multiple feelings always
remain discrete. Instead, what we are here discussing is the ideal activity.
In unifying the manifold of feeling, this ideal activity proceeds in such a
way that something objective is produced from feelings.0 In this case, un¬
like that of willing, what is produced [by the ideal activity] is not some¬
thing that is immediately mine; instead, it is something that hovers
before me, {something that is simply found to be as it is,} something that
has to be realized in an image, something that has to be schematized.p
What has to be made real or “realized”27 in this case is not feeling itself
(with regard to its content), however, for the content of feeling is realized
in space as an object. Instead, what has to be realized here is the feeling
130 of the manifold in the relationship of dependence.28 What is the schema
25	K: “mit dem Ich im Begrif des Willens.” H: “mit dem Ich; in dem Begrife als eines
Produkts des Willens.” The translation follows the punctuation of H, which seems to make
more sense in this context.
26	“In der Wirksamkeit erscheint die Richtung.”
0 In discussing the union of the manifold we are talking not about any determinate feel¬
ing, but about the ideal activity, or intuition. This is an activity that ensues from a feeling;
consequently, we are talking about something objective (p. 120).
p It is a schema (p. 120).
27	“das hier zu realisirende.”
28	“sondern es ist das Gefühl des Mannigfaltigen, im Gefühle des Mannigfaltigen der
Dependenz.” This passage makes little sense as it stands and thus requires emendation.
The most obvious correction, as incorporated in the translation, is to delete the second
occurrence of the phrase Gefühle des mannigfaltigene (“the feeling of the manifold”) and to
replace it with Verhältnis.

of such a manifold? Temporal succession. There arises for us a time within
which we intuit the manifold only to the extent that this manifold ex¬
hibits the relationship of dependence—and only insofar as the manifold
is intuited in this way is there any time at all. Time is thus the form of the
manifold of intuition;29 it is the sensible intuition of the previously dis¬
cussed relationship of the manifold [the relationship of dependence].Q
{As a result of proceeding in this manner, time comes into being for
the imagination. The first, undivided act of willing is repeated and is, as
it were, extended over the manifold, and from this there arises a tem¬
poral series.}
The I determines what is in time; consequently, the I itself falls within
time.R Its act of determining occurs within time, along with what is de¬
termined by this act; for the I itself is included within the synthesis we
are discussing, and this synthesis is not possible without the I. This syn¬
thesis, however, is present for that activity of the I which itself hovers
[before the I] as something objective; consequently, the I becomes some¬
thing objective within this synthesis.
That by means of which the I is able to determine itself is called
“force” or “energy,” and indeed (to the extent that there is intelligible
consciousness), “pure energy.” Here, however, we have treated this act of
determining as something sensible and objective, {something assimi¬
lated in the form of intuition,} and, to this extent, the energy or force of
the I must likewise be characterized as sensible and objective. {It be¬
comes a sensible force.}
The act of self-determination discussed above in sections 1 and 2,
which does not occur in any time, is here extended to form a temporal
series. Within every heterogeneous manifold, this act of self-
determination is posited over and over again; yet every time it is posited,
it is posited as the same single act of self-determination, and this is the
source of the continuity of the temporal series. I determine myself
to move from A to B; this act of self-determination is an act that does
not occur within any time. An experience occurs as a consequence of
this act of self-determination; the transition from A to B occurs within
29 “Form des Mannigfaltigen der Anschauung.” The parallel passage in H (translated
immediately below in n. Q) inverts this phrase, to read “Form der Anschauung des Man¬
nigfaltigen.”
Subject and object are here different from each other. The object in this case, however,
is not matter in space, but the relationship of the manifold in its unity. This schema ap¬
pears as temporal succession, insofar as this relationship of the manifold is intuited as unified
through a relationship of dependence.30
Time, accordingly, is only the form of the intuition of the manifold, as unified through
dependence (p. 120).
“Das Object aber ist nicht Materie im Raume sondern das Verhaltnif} des Mannig¬
faltigen in seiner Vereinigung. Dies Schema erscheint als Zeitfolge, insofern dies Verhaltni(3
des Mannigfaltigen im Verhaltnip der Dependenz vereinigt angeschaut wird.”
R As the determining subject in this synthesis of the manifold, the I itself occurs within
time (p. 120).

270 § 12
time. This movement of transition is conditioned by the causality of
my will. Every member of the [temporal] series is considered to be con¬
ditioned by the causality of my will. {Consequently, I posit my will—
which I previously (that is, in the first act) posited purely and simply—
over and over again; in this way} I extend my will over time, and my
force thereby becomes extended as well;s it acts, as it were, in fits and
starts.31 It does one thing after another and operates through interme¬
diary states; and this is why I intuit my own force as something limited,32
something subject to laws that do not depend upon me, and why my own
force appears to me as something dependent upon the force of nature.
{Consequently, it appears as something given, as a natural force, as a sen- (121)
sible or physical force; for, in the intuition of an object, it appears to me to
be something innate. Therefore, (physical) force in the sensible world is
my own will, thought of as something sensible, assimilated to the form
of intuition.} My efficacy extends itself through time only insofar it en¬
counters some resistance within nature. I, so to speak, “carry [myself]
131 over into nature,” for nature always resists me, and I can overcome its
resistance only gradually.
My will, as such, is free; I give it to myself. The energy I expend in the
sensible world (and through which, for example, I am supposed to move
a body) has to be something given to me, however, for this energy ap¬
pears as an object—not, to be sure, as a mere object, but rather as a
subject-object.
{Brief recapitulation of the foregoing:
In willing, I am immediately conscious of myself. The subject who
thinks along with the will is the same as the willing subject. Willing con¬
centrates; to this extent, it is a pure power of the intellect. Our will is also
supposed to possess causal power in the world of appearances, however,
where it appears as the I’s progress through a series of feelings: from the
state in which the I began when it willed something, to the state that it
willed, these constitute a continuous series. This manifold is supposed to
be unified by the intuiting subject and related to the will; that is to say,
it is because of the will that precisely these feelings—and no others—are
incorporated [within the manifold]. This unification is achieved by
means of [the relationship of] dependence, and consequently there
arises a temporal series.
If something is purely objective, then I can entertain a representation
of it only as it is—though I can also change and modify it. Physical
s From this there arises the continuity of time or of the temporal series: temporal suc¬
cession.
Thus it is thanks to a continued and repeated will that the continuous line is divided
(p. 120).
31	“ruckweise.”
32	“Meine Kraft [. . . ] wird dadurch etwas beschränktes in der Anschauung.”

§ 12 271
energy is also like this; but I cannot even think of a genuine act of willing
unless it actually occurs.
What then, in truth, is sensible energy, in relationship to our
thinking?}
In relationship to our thinking, sensible energy is, to begin with, a
concept, though not one that arises from an intuition of an object; in¬
stead, it is a concept that arises when I think about the manifold [of feel¬
ings] as bound together in a certain way. Energy or force is thus a
synthetic concept; it is not intuited, but rather it is thought. I acquire
this concept of force or energy when I combine the manifold of feeling
that is supposed to come into being as a consequence of willing.
This concept is neither purely sensible nor purely intelligible, but par¬
tially both. The content (i.e., the specific determination of the will) is
intelligible; the form in which this determination of my will occurs (i.e.,
time) is sensible.T The concept of force is {the mediating concept,} the
bridge between the intelligible world and the sensible world, and it is by
means of this concept that the I goes outside of itself and makes the
transition to a sensible world.33,u By means of this concept, the I rep¬
resents itself to itself as an object and connects its own consciousness to
an objective world. In this way, I become an object for myself, an object
of perception,34 and a sensible world is connected for me with this object
that I become. Every view of the world begins with a view of myself as an
object. The error committed by all previous philosophers is that they
have viewed this knowledge [of myself, that is, of my own force] as some¬
thing supersensible, despite the fact that all our consciousness begins
with a consciousness of what is actual.
{The will is absolute and intelligible; but, inasmuch as it is extended over
the manifold of feeling, its form is sensible.)
Kant classifies this concept of force as a noumenon;35 and this is en¬
tirely appropriate, for it does not signify any object of outer intuition,
but is, instead, a {mere} concept, that is, something produced exclusively
by thinking. Nor, according to Kant, does this concept belong within the
intelligible world, for, {according to him,} the intelligible world includes (122)
nothing but freedom. This is correct, but Kant’s remarks on this topic
are insufficiently precise.
T The form of energy or force is time. My willing is repeatedly extended across the man¬
ifold (p. 121).
33	“zu einer Sinnenwelt übergeht.”
u It is by means of this concept that the I goes outside of itself, inasmuch as it connects
a world to its self-consciousness (p. 121).
34	“so werde ich mir zu einem Objecte, zu einem Gegenstände der Wahrnehmung.”
35	See Critique of Practical Reason, Pt. I, Bk. I, Chap. I, § ii (KGS, V: 55-56), and § 88 of
the Critique of Judgment (KGS, V: 453-54). See too KRV, A82/B108, where Kraft is included
among the other “pure but derivative” concepts, which Kant calls “the predicables of the
pure understanding.”

272 § 12
According to Fichte, there are three types of concepts:
(A)	Concepts of sensible intuitions. {A concept of this sort is based
upon sensible acting.}
132	(B) Intelligible concepts (the [concept of the] will alone).
(C) Concepts that occupy a middle position between these two ex¬
tremes. ({For example,} the concept of force.) {Force is nothing that can
be felt; but neither is it anything supersensible (like the will), for it is pre¬
cisely by means of force that I come into contact with bodies in the sen¬
sible world. Force thus involves a combination of what is sensible and
what is intelligible.}
Kant identifies B and C, because he fails to provide a precise state¬
ment of the difference between the sensible world and the intelligible
world.36
(4)	The position of an object in space is supposed to be determined by
means of an intuition of a quantum of energy or force (previous §). {Do
we now understand how this is possible?}
To begin with, the possibility of making such a measurement, {i.e., the
possibility of determining the place of something,} presupposes the
thought of a forward movement in space brought about by absolute self¬
activity; i.e., it presupposes the concept of physical force {which is con¬
tinued and repeated over and over again}. Without this, nothing is
movable {and no line can be described, since, in order for me to be able
to move myself forward in this way, I must already possess the force
[required]}; for it is only by means of this {continuous application of
force} that the manifold that is supposed to lie along this line first arises
{for us}.
We previously described a “doing” of the I, the schema of which was
a line, and we now see more clearly what kind of doing this is. It is a
sensible form of doing, for supersensible doing requires no schema.v
36	At this point in K, Krause inserts a slightly different version of the same dictat that
appears again a few pages later, in the customary position, at the end of § 12 (which is also
the version included in the “Major Points,” with which K begins). The most significant dif¬
ference between the two versions is that the first one is shorter and omits the final few lines
of the summary paragraph placed at the end of § 12 in both K and H. The few other
differences of any significance are indicated in the notes to the dictat at the end of this §.
It is perhaps worth noting, however, that where this earlier version diverges from the final
version in K, it generally agrees with the text of H, suggesting that Krause copied the text
of this first version of the dictat to § 12 from someone else’s transcript of an earlier version
of this same lecture (and, at the same time, supporting the thesis that the lectures tran¬
scribed in H antedate those recorded in K).
v This act of drawing a line, an act that is required for every determination of position,
is therefore a sensible doing and must therefore be schematized. And [in] this, its schema,
this intelligible [act] must become sensible, for ideal and real activity were separated above,
and must therefore be reunited (p. 122).

§ i2 273
Pure acting is absolute self-determination; but as soon as one gives a de¬
terminate direction to this act of self-determination, one’s acting is then
made sensible.37
{In addition to force, however, there are still other conditions for the
possibility of this act of measuring: namely, the intuition of myself as im¬
mediately feeling in space, which is originally simply discovered.}
Sensible doing and the act of schematizing are reciprocally related to
each other; “doing” is sensible because it is schematized, and it is sche¬
matized because it is sensible. This reciprocal interaction originates in
that union of ideal and real activity [achieved] through feeling in a finite
being. Our own finitude is revealed to us through feeling. It is through
the ideal activity of the imagination that we obtain the view we possess
of what is intelligible.38
According to our presupposition, when I measure [the position of
anything] I myself am in space. (I feel myself to be looking into space.)39
I extend myself through space and can say that, in a certain sense, I im¬
mediately feel the space in which I am; accordingly, my feeling of myself
provides me with the original standard of measure. In order to imagine
myself traversing space in a particular direction, I posit myself within
space for a second and third time, etc.; I double myself, triple myself,
etc., in space. As a result of this, a line gradually comes into being,
stretching from me to the particular object whose distance from me I
desire to measure.40’™ From this it follows that such succession must be
possible, and the successive manifold must constitute a unity, {that is to
say, I always remain in the same space, even in the case of succession};
for otherwise, I would never appear to “double” myself [in the manner
described above], but instead, every time I posited myself in a new place
I would lose the former one. {How is this possible?} I can posit myself in
the manner just described only if the manifold is posited in a relation¬
ship of dependence. {Hence I could not occupy the second position un¬
less I had moved to it from the first one, etc. In this manner, the spatial
manifold is reduced to a single manifold.} We can make this clearer by (123)
comparing it with the way in which we count. When, for example, I
count to 3,1 posit 1 and 1 and 1; and when I posit the second 1,1 carry
the first 1 along with it as well, etc.
37	“versinnlicht man es.”
38	This last sentence occurs as a marginal note in Krause’s MS.
39	“Ich fühle mich selbst als in den Raum hineinschauend.”
40	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “meßen” for K’s “wißen.”
w I myself must also be in space. The I, as the original standard of measure, lies at the
foundation of every act of measurement. I think of myself as occupying the space imme¬
diately adjacent to me in a certain direction—though, in fact, I do not yet occupy this
space. Then I continue to think of myself in this same manner, thereby doubling myself
over and over again. In this way, a line gradually comes into being as a determinate quan¬
tum (p. 122).

274	§12
The natural way of moving oneself through space is to advance step by
step:41 With every normal step I take, I propel my entire body into the
immediately adjacent space; when I take half a step (when I creep), I
only partially enter this adjacent space; when I take a larger step (when
I leap), I jump entirely over the adjacent space. {From this process of
striding forward and filling successive spaces we derive the expression
“continuity contains no hiatus or gap,” since, with every step I take, I fill
exactly the same amount of space that I previously filled. If I have filled
more space, then I have leaped.} (Thus, in philosophy, when one leaves
out the intermediate steps [of an argument], this is called “leaping [to a
conclusion]” or “ellipsis.”)42 Neither creeping nor leaping, however, con¬
stitutes our natural stride, and thus, among the people, the {usual, nat¬
ural, and} original unit of measure is the pace or step. But human beings
are not all the same size, and therefore it became necessary to invent
artificial, objective units of measure.
What is successive occurs within time, and every new act of positing
myself also occurs within time. {This process of successively filling space
by taking equal-sized steps occurs within time, but [each step] takes only
a moment. When we grasp an indefinite number of such moments to¬
gether, we have time.} What is successive and the time in which this suc¬
cession occurs, are combined. We then pick out and grasp only the
formal aspect of this successive process, leaving aside its content, and
this is how we become able to think of time. Time and a moment are
related to each other in the same way what is determinable is related to
what is determinate.
134	(5) We have seen that physical force, along with everything that condi¬
tions it and is conditioned by it, is posited only in consequence of a feel¬
ing. Thus, it can appear to us only in the course of real acting.
Whenever we estimate the spatial position of something, the concept
of physical force is always presupposed, and we obtain this concept only
insofar as our will is supposed to exercise causality—i.e., only insofar as
one actually does act.
The advance {of physical force} toward a goal is called “acting.” Acting
appears—i.e., it is what it is—only in the form of intuition we have in¬
dicated [i.e., in time]. {Does this mean that this force is nothing
intelligible?}
If one wants to call what is intelligible the “in itself,” then what has just
been said does not apply to it. (The only thing that is intelligible is our
self-determination, which involves no temporal sequence, because it in¬
cludes no manifold that could be successive.) “In ourselves,” we neither
41	“das Fortschreiten.”
42	“Sprünge, HiATOs.”

§ i2 275
act nor exist within time, for the will is nothing manifold. I am sensuous,
however, and must proceed in accordance with the laws of intuition; con¬
sequently, not much can be made of what is merely intelligible.x
Physical force exists for us only in consequence of an instance of phys¬
ical acting. Things are supposed to obtain their spatial order as a con¬
sequence of the concept of our own physical force, however, {since the
concept of force or energy arises for us only through acting}; and from
this it follows that the act of ordering things in space, and therefore
(since we have shown the latter to be a condition for the possibility of
consciousness) all consciousness, is possible only within [the context of]
consciousness of an actual experience of actual acting.43 (All abstraction
refers to experience and is nothing whatsoever apart from experience.)
§ 12
Our striving, or our practical acting,44 is, according to the preceding
§, the standard of measure for all spatial determination. Inner or pure
force is the efficacy of willing,45 as intuited immediately and therefore
intellectually. Through such willing, the entire free power of the I is fo¬
cused upon a single point. Outer or physical force is this same energy,46
but extended by sensible intuition across a temporal series, in which se¬
ries the manifold of the power of feeling, as determined by the causality
35 of willing, is brought into47 a relationship of dependence; and it is
only through this relationship of dependence that this manifold can be
x It only seems this way to us [that force is nothing intelligible and is present for us only
in the form of temporal succession], and this is entirely a consequence of the laws of in¬
tuition; in itself it is not like this. We cannot content ourselves with what is merely intelli¬
gible—with what is not in time at all and is not manifold. Nothing but our own will is like
this (p. 123).
43	K: “sonach ist [... ] alles Bewustsein nur möglich im Bewustsein der wirklichen Er¬
fahrung des wirklichen Handelns.” Cp. H: “sonach auch das Bewußtseyn ist nur zufolge
einer solchen reelen Wirksamkeit möglich” (“thus it also follows that consciousness is pos¬
sible only in consequence of such real efficacy”).
44	“Unser streben, oder unser practisches Handelen.” Cp. H: “Unser Streben oder
unsere Kraftanstrengung” (“Our striving, or our exertion of force”). The version of this
dictat at the end of sect. 3 in K also has Kraftanstrengung instead of practisches Handeln.
45	“die [ . . . ] Wirksamkeit des Wollens.” Both H and the version of this summary para¬
graph which appears at the end of sect. 3 in K have, instead of “das Wollens” (“willing”),
“des Willens” (“the will”).
46	“Aeußere oder physische Kraft ist eben diese Energie.” This is the sole occurrence of
the term Energie in K. Elsewhere, the term translated as “energy” (or “force”) is always
Kraft.
4' “das Mannifgaltige des durch die Causalitaet des Wollens bestimmten Gehühlsver-
mögens in das Verhältniß der Dependenz gebracht wird.” Instead of Wollens and gebracht,
both H and the earlier version of this dictat in K have “durch die Causalität des Willens
[. . . ] gedacht wird” (“the manifold of the power of feeling, as determined by the causality
of the will, is thought as [. . . ]).

276 § 12
assimilated to the unity of consciousness. A physical force of this sort,
however, can be posited only in [the context of] some real efficacy, from
which it follows that any determination of the place of things—and
thus consciousness itself—is possible only in consequence of some real
efficacy.

*35
§ 13
In the previous § we discussed the concept of time, which will be ex¬
plained in the present §.
{More precise elucidation of the concept of time,
as an appendix [to the preceding §]:
The concept of time is of decisive importance for the system of the
Wissenschaftslehre, as it is for idealism generally. It displays the relation¬
ship of our system to the Kantian system, and specifically, to the Critique
of Pure Reason. Everything depends, above all else, upon the genesis of
this concept; because only in this way [that is, by indicating how the con¬
cept of time is generated] can Critical idealism be justified.}
The task that arises with the solution of the problem of time is to
unify the manifold of feeling. This unification is achieved by deriving
this manifold from and referring it to a determination of the will.
{From this, I certainly see that the [desired] unity arises;} neverthe¬
less, feelings {always} appear {to me} as manifold, as discrete, {as lying
outside of one another,} and they occur in a time or in a temporal series
in which both feelings and what is felt are supposed to follow in succes¬
sion, {one after another}. Thus there would [seem to] arise two different
times: a time “in itself,” and {another} time {in which I take up the
manifold}, a time that is supposed to be the sequence of the mani¬
fold [for me].1 In themselves, the different feelings already occur in
time, and then one assimilates them into [another] time. {This could be
1	“eine Zeit an sich, und eine Zeit, in welcher das Mannigfaltige folgen sollte.” This point
is less obscurely expressed in H, where the contrast between the “two times”—time “in
itself’ (the order in which events “really” occur) and time “for me” (the order in which I
happen to apprehend the manifold of feelings)—is more obvious. In other words, Fichte
is here restating, albeit darkly, the Kantian distinction between the “subjective” and “ob¬
jective” orders of time.
[277]
(124)

278	§ 13
inferred from what Kant says,2 and it is made explicit by Reinhold, who
also recognizes two different spaces.3} We will have to examine this sub¬
ject very carefully in order to avoid [positing] these two different times.
{In order to protect ourselves against a double time of this sort, we
add the following remarks:}
1	am limited in an overall way; such limitation constitutes my very es¬
sence (my single and indivisible state for all eternity—where “eternity”
signifies the negation of time), and one may not ask any further ques¬
tions concerning this limitation; this is my original limitation. {This lim¬
itation marks and constitutes the limit of reason; for it is precisely our
reason itself that asks questions, but reason comes into being only by
means of this very limitation. Therefore, so long as one expects a ratio¬
nal answer, one cannot ask any questions concerning this limitation.}
■ What we were4 just discussing, however, is an alteration that occurs
in this [original] state of limitation. I am limited in my ability to grasp5
my own state, inasmuch as I am able to grasp only discrete quanta, and
this limitation too is one concerning which no further questions can be
asked: for example, I can grasp things only through five senses, and
each of my senses can grasp only what pertains to it. {Here once again,
reason comes to an end. For example, I can only taste sweetness; I can¬
not at the same time hear it, nor can I simultaneously taste what is
rough. In other words, I grasp only certain quanta. I cannot feel what is
feelable “as such” or “in general,” but only in part. I feel what is rough
only as something rough, not as something “feelable in general.”6} This
is the limitation I encounter in grasping my own state. (My conscious¬
ness as a whole is something that comes into being only gradually and bit
136 by bit, through a process of addition; it is merely an analysis of what is—
just as surely as I exist at all—already present.) (Whenever we are simply
unable to grasp something, this provokes astonishment, which is the ba¬
sis of the sublime.)
The reason why I can grasp only discrete quantities lies entirely within
me. {Original limitation is present only insofar as I grasp these discrete
2	See the discussion of the two orders of temporal succession in the Second “Analogy of
Experience,” especially KRV, A189/B232-A197/B242. Note that, though Kant distin¬
guishes the “objective” from the “subjective” order of time, he does not refer to the former
as “time in itself.”
3	See Reinhold, Versuch einer neuen Theorie des menschlichen Vorstellungsvermogens (1789), §
LIX, p. 389, where Reinhold explicitly distinguishes “pure space” from the representa¬
tions of empty and filled space.
4	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “wurde” for K’s “wird.”
5	“Ich bin beschránkt im AuffafJen.” In the discussion that follows, the verb “to grasp” is
a translation of auffassen, not of begreifen (“to comprehend” or “to grasp by means of con¬
cepts”). Accordingly, its meaning here is similar to apprehendierien (“to apprehend”), which
is the technical term Kant uses to designate the intellect’s activity of “grasping” the man¬
ifold.
6	“nicht ais Fühlbares iiberhaupt.”

§ 13	279
feelings.} I cannot go beyond this fact; I can only say, “This is how it is,
this is how we find ourselves to be.” The philosopher cannot determine
anything about this a priori; all he can do is point out that, if I were not
limited in this manner, then I would be unable to posit any conscious¬
ness. {Moreover, if we did not find ourselves to be like this, then our con- (125)
sciousness could not be explained. [We discover this about ourselves] a
posteriori, not a priori, for otherwise, we would become transcendent,
like the dogmatist, with his “thing in itself.”}
The concept of time depends upon these discrete elements lying apart
from one another. Yet when I grasp these elements individually, one af¬
ter another, a [unified] manifold does not yet arise for me; for I am not
yet one [unified consciousness] for myself.
{Time is dependent upon these discrete, separate elements; but noth¬
ing is yet achieved with this, for a [unified] manifold would not thereby
arise for me. To be sure, a manifold would be present here, but it would
not be present for me; instead, it might perhaps be present for some
higher intellect outside of us, who would witness our alterations. But I
would still not be a unity for myself. I would become a mere object, but
not for myself, but rather, as it were, for an intellect outside of me. For
myself, however, I would be nothing at all. Consider, for example, a tree
that changes with the various seasons: For whom does it alter itself? [It
alters itself] for an observing intellect, but not for itself. It is exactly the
same with feelings: At the first moment, there is, for example, a feeling
of green; at the second, a feeling of red, etc. But the second feeling is not
the same as the first one, and the third is not the same as the second, etc.
Consequently, these various feelings are not unified—except, perhaps,
for an intellect outside of us.
I am now supposed to think this manifold; I would not obtain unity in
this way either, however. Instead, all that would happen is this:} When I
think of X, Y, and Z, I am first {thought} X, then Y, and then Z. Just as
X, Y, and Z have nothing in common, neither does the consciousness
of X have anything in common with the consciousness of Y or Z. {Thus,
here too my essence ([in this case] these thoughts) would remain purely
manifold.
One might wish to reply, “When I think of Y, I am conscious of my act
of thinking.” This does not change the situation in any significant way,
however, for [these states of] consciousness would have no more in com¬
mon with one another than did the acts of thinking. I would continue to
remain something manifold. I would be a unity only for some intellect
outside of me, observing my thinking, for whom I would be a mere ob¬
ject, like the above-mentioned tree or any other being that alters itself.
No unity, however, would be present for me.
To be sure, this flux of alterations does indeed suggest to us one fea¬
ture of the concept of time: namely, that time must already lie at the

28o	§ 13
basis of all change. But the concept of time also has another feature:
namely, that one must think of time as several united moments.7
An I of precisely this sort, one that does not think of itself as a unity,
but is able to think of itself only as thinking X, Y, Z, etc., is that of the
[so-called] Kantians. To be sure, they talk about the unity of the I, but
they never establish the foundation of this unity. Before I can combine
anything, I must already possess a pattern for this combination; unity
must already be present.}
In order for this manifold to appear to thinking as a series, one and
the same thing must be completely united with each of the manifold acts
of thinking, and this must occur throughout all thinking. This same uni¬
tary thing must be present within every act of thinking, {and it must ap¬
pear as the same in every act of thinking,} for otherwise, no thinking
whatsoever would be possible. The “one thing” in question is the intel¬
lectual intuition of willing, described in the previous §. This intuition is
repeated over and over again throughout all discursive thinking and is
what is thought of in every moment of the same. (This provides the basis
for an account of memory.)
{I relate every [element of the] manifold to my willing, and in this (126)
way the manifold is supposed to be present [for me]. In the case of every
[element of the] manifold, I must posit this act of willing as one and
the same act, since nothing manifold becomes present for me except in¬
sofar as it is posited through willing. Through such discursive thinking,
this act of willing becomes enduring, and a time thereby arises for us,
despite the fact that my act of willing does not occur in any time, since
it is not conditioned by anything.} I observe myself within time,8 but
I am not in time, insofar as I intuit myself intellectualiter,9 that is, as
self-determining.
In fact, there is but one intellectual intuition, and it does not occur in
any time at all. {Now [this intuition] is thought.} Only through discursive
thinking does this single intellectual intuition become divided and
present within time. No time—no before or after—is involved in my in¬
tuition of myself as a willing subject. Only what is conditioned occurs
within time, but my willing is not conditioned by anything at all.
All thinking occurs within time, and the intuition of the will endures
through every act of thinking. This is an inadequate way of expressing
the point, which might be put as follows: insofar as I relate this
{intellectual} intuition to the manifold of willing, this intuition becomes
enduring,A {but this is always the same intuition, simply repeated}. It is
7	“als mehrere Momente in einem.”
8	“Ich sehe mich selbst in die Zeit hinein.”
9	“intellectually.” Cp. idealiter and realiter.
A Only insofar as this intuition of willing is related to the manifold acts of thinking does
the former become something enduring (p. 126).

§ 13	28i
only in this sense that time can be called the “form of intuition.” Time is
the form of intellectual intuition; but as soon as intellectual intuition is
assimilated to this temporal form, it is “sensibilized” (that is, it becomes
sensible).10 11{My will possesses causal power: this produces feelings, which can be
grasped only discretely. But all these feelings are supposed to be grasped
as results of my willing, and therefore my own act of willing must be
added to or posited in conjunction with every [element of the] manifold.
As a result of this repeated positing, my act of willing is extended
throughout the entire series of the manifold. This, however, is only a sin¬
gle act of willing, and this is what furnishes the series with unity, from
which unity there arises time.
But my willing is intuited only insofar as an action is extended
throughout this series. Of course, the intuition we are concerned with
here is an intellectual intuition; consequently, this series (i.e., time) con¬
stitutes the form of this intellectual intuition, which becomes sensible or
objective by means of this extension.
To be sure, what becomes objective in this way is not thinking itself,
but rather the object of thinking. Indeed, this is the distinguishing fea¬
ture of what is sensible: that it is different from thinking and intuiting—
it is the object of the same.}
■ Time is therefore the mediating link between what is intelligible and
137 what is sensible. Hence there are three types of intuition:
(A)	Sensible intuition in space.
(B)	Intelligible intuition of our own willing.
(C)	A type of intuition in which A and B are united: the intuition of
our willing in time.
{Remarks:}
[ 1 ] We can now see more clearly what we are really claiming when we
assert the existence of intellectual intuition. We are not claiming that
any person could possess only an intellectual intuition.11,3 Human be¬
ings, along with all other finite, rational creatures, are sensuous, tem¬
poral beings. Intellectual intuition {is not an actual intuition at all;
instead, it} is what is determinable in every act of thinking, and it must
be thought of as the foundation of all thinking. It can be isolated only by
10	“versinnlicht wird.” The adjective versinnlicht and the verb versinnlichen (which were
introduced in the previous §) occur frequently in the text from now on. The verb means
“to render perceptible or tangible” or “to materialize.” In the WLnm, these terms assume
a quasi-technical sense and are used to designate the absolutely crucial (albeit still obscure)
process by means of which what is intelligible becomes something empirical or sensible (an
object of sensible intuition). In a sense, therefore, the rest of the WLnm can be considered
an exhaustive account of what is involved in this process of Versinnlichung.
11	“es könne ein Mensch bloß in der intellectuellen Anschauung sein.” Literally: “that a
human being could exist solely within intellectual intuition.”
B It is not, however, claimed that “intellectual intuition” exists as an isolated act of the
mind, something human beings could be capable of by itself and in isolation (p. 126).

282	§ 13
the philosopher, but not within ordinary consciousness. {Consequently, (127)
we are acquainted with it only indirectly; it is never encountered by itself
within ordinary consciousness.12}
[2] What does “thinking” mean? Or what does it mean to say that one
has simply “thought up” something?13 Is this how noumena come into
being? To posit the intelligible within the sensible {manifold through the
mediation of time}, as the ground of the unityc of the latter, is an ex¬
ample of such thinking. What is purely “thought of” is not something
that is experienced;14 instead, it is something that must first be intro¬
duced into {the sensible manifold} by the experiencer, and thus it is “a
priori” in Kant’s sense of the term.D
The terms “a priori” and “a posteriori” could15 have two different
meanings: (A) On the one hand, one could be referring to the entire
system of consciousness, which can be treated as something given (which
is how it appears within ordinary consciousness), in which case it is called
“a posteriori.” But when the philosopher provides a derivation of this
same system of consciousness {from the laws of thinking—as present in
advance of all experience}, it is then called “a priori,” in the broadest
sense of the term.
(B) On the other hand, {in the narrower sense,} the term “a posteriori”
can designate whatever is present for inner16 intuition {in the manifold
of sensible intuition} in consequence of a feeling. In this context, “a pri¬
ori” means whatever thinking introduces into the manifold of feeling for
the purpose of unifying this manifold. Kant has provided an accurate
description of the form of thinking that is involved in the latter proce¬
dure, but he has not explained the origin of the material that constitutes
this manifold.17
{“Noumena,” therefore, are what is intelligible, insofar as this is made
sensible by means of time.}
12	“Sie ist also etwas mittelbares, das sich im gemeinen Bewußtseyn nicht absondern
läßt.“
13	“Was heißt sich denken, sich etwas denken?” (H: “was heiß denken? und zwar sich
etwas denken—oder blos etwas denken?”) I.e., what sort of “object” can mere thinking
have apart from the sensible content provided by intuition? In ordinary speech, the ex¬
pression sich etwas denken often means to “imagine” something or “think it up,” in contrast
with the sort of “objective” thinking involved in “thinking about” the objects of sensible
intuition.
c As the mediating link (p. 127).
14	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “ist nicht in dem Erfahren,” for K’s “ist nicht in der Er¬
fahrung.”
D Therefore, this mediating link does not lie in experiencing, but is first introduced by
the experiencing subject. Time is therefore a priori in the narrower sense (p. 127).
15	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “könnte” for K’s “kann.”
16	“innere.” This is an alternate reading, suggested by Fuchs, of a word that could also
be read as “reinen” (“pure”).
17	“aber das Materiale woher es kommt, fehlt.”

§ 13	283
[3]	Concerning the relationship of the various moments of time to one
another, see the Outline of the Distinctive Character of the Wissenschaftslehre,
1K
pp. 409-11.
{We now arrive at the most important point, to which all our previous
inquiries are related only indirectly, or as aids to understanding. This
new inquiry is also more difficult than anything that has gone before,
however, and, for this reason, your instructor requests your indulgence
if he should now be less successful in making himself understood than
previously.
First of all, we wish to secure the correct viewpoint.}
138 How is consciousness possible?E This is our chief question. {Answer:}
All consciousness isF an immediate consciousness of our own acting, and
all mediate or indirect consciousness provides the condition for the pos¬
sibility of this same acting. This is the provisional answer we have hith¬
erto given to our question, though we have not yet made it {sufficiently}
precise. All that has been said so far has merely prepared the way for
what is to come.
{The formal [aspect] of this question [how does consciousness come
into being?] must also explain the material,18 19 i.e., the object of con¬
sciousness, and this immediate consciousness must be explained on the
basis of mediate or indirect consciousness. Our path must ascend from
mediated consciousness to immediate consciousness, and we will have
reached the end of our inquiry when we have exhibited this immediate
consciousness.
How dose are we to a solution to this problem? Where do we now (128)
stand?}
In the course of our previous inquiry we have discovered the follow¬
ing: Consciousness of acting is possible only on the condition of free¬
dom. {“I am supposed to become conscious of myself as acting”: this
means the same as “I am supposed to be conscious of myself as a free
being.”} Freedom is possible only on the condition of a concept of a goal;
a concept of a goal is possible only on the condition of cognition of an
object; cognition of an object is possible only on the condition of acting.
18	EPW, pp. 305-6.
E “How does consciousness come into being?” This was the first and chief question (p.
!27).
E All consciousness is based upon (p. 127).
19	“Aus dem Formellen dieser Frage muß auch zugleich das Materiale, das Objekt des
Bewußtseyns [. . . ] erklärt werden.” An alternate way of construing this obscure passage
would be to substitute “Ausserdem” for “Aus dem” at the beginning of the sentence, in
which case it might be translated, “In addition to the formal aspect of this question, the
matter of the same, namely, the object of consciousness, must also be explained.”

284	§ 13
{As we showed in the most detailed manner in the preceding §, cog¬
nition of an object is made possible by means of our acting and our con¬
sciousness thereof; for only thereby is an actual feeling possible, and a
representation of an object first arises in consequence of some actual
feeling. In the previous §, the possibility of a complete feeling was de¬
rived as the result of the successive application of my own energy or
force and the relation of the same to my own willing. From feeling there
then arises a consciousness of acting.
Remark: We have consistently spoken of determinate acting or think¬
ing—i.e., of a consciousness that begins with experience. One frequently
speaks, however, of “thinking as such” or “thinking in general,” of a type
of thinking abstracted from all acting—in a state of repose and unac¬
companied by consciousness of any other activity. But even this sort of
abstract thinking would not be possible unless one had first acted in a
determinate manner; for how can I “abstract” unless something is al¬
ready present? All thinking is determinate thinking, and determinate
thinking is possible only within the context of experience. Of course,
one can subsequently abstract from experience; I can, for example,
think of “man as such.” Like all thinking, however, this sort of thinking
also begins with determinate thinking. In truth, there is no such thing as
an “object as such” or “in general.” A particular object, however, is pos¬
sible only in consequence of a feeling, and a feeling is impossible apart
from an instance of determinate acting.}
■ Hence:
(1) The scope of our inquiry, which began at the circumference, with
consciousness in its entirety, {which we divided into the spheres of ideal
and real activity,} has now been narrowed, and we have moved closer to
the center. We now understand which circle we have become caught up
in, and it is by calling attention to this circle that we will be able to pro¬
ceed further.
{Free acting is possible only on the condition that a concept of a goal (129)
is present; for freedom is a movement of transition from what is deter¬
minable to what is determinate, but [in order to accomplish such a move¬
ment of transition] I have to know what is determinate—i.e., I have
to possess some concept of a goal. This, however, is possible only on the
condition that there is cognition of an object of acting, and such cogni¬
tion is, in turn, possible only if an action itself occurs. Thus, insofar as it
is a priori (in the broader sense of the term, i.e., insofar as it has its basis
in the laws of thinking, prior to all experience), the concept of a goal is
possible only on the condition of an a posteriori cognition; and an a pos¬
teriori cognition, in turn, is possible only on the condition of this con¬
cept [of a goal]. Our explanation of consciousness thus coils back upon

§ 13	285
itself in the following circle: B (objective cognition) is derived from A
(the concept of a goal), and A is derived from B.}
Acting is possible only on the condition of cognition of an object,
whereas such cognition is possible only on the condition of acting. An
understanding of Critical idealism depends upon an understanding of
this circle.
From this it follows that nothing is explained. The difficulty involved
in explaining this can be overcome only through the synthetic unifica¬
tion of both {the concept of a goal and [cognition of] an object}, and we
will thereby arrive at the point from which consciousness can be ex¬
plained. {Reason must therefore contain within itself something that
combines the distinctive features of both.
Such a synthesis exists only for the philosopher and only in the con¬
text of his investigations of the I. For the original I, this is an absolute
thesis, and the original I proceeds in a purely analytic manner. In accor¬
dance with the proper character of the synthetic method, the previously
affirmed [and circularly related] propositions always remain true and
must remain so; but, in order to determine them more precisely and to
confirm them, some intermediate, unifying term must be introduced
between them. Thus, here too the concept of a goal has to be united with
the concept of an object.}
(In the interest of method, let us display this circle in a simpler form—
a way of proceeding which is similar to that of mathematicians.)
Cognition of an {actual} object refers to a feeling and is necessarily
posited in consequence of a feeling;0 consequently, instead of positing
cognition of an object, we could posit feeling. A concept of a goal refers
to acting and is here considered to be a condition for the possibility of
acting; accordingly, instead of positing the concept of a goal, we could
posit acting. Our circle would then be as follows: No feeling without act¬
ing; no acting without feeling. Each of these is necessarily dependent
upon the other. {Thus, if we presuppose either of these, there must exist (130)
a relationship of dependence between both of them.
Remark: One must not lose sight of the mediating concepts involved
here. There is no feeling apart from acting: In this case, the dependence is
clear. The conclusion that there is no acting unless a feeling is presupposed is
not one that follows so immediately, however. Its truth is established only
as follows: No acting is possible without a concept of a goal; no concept
of a goal is possible without cognition of an object; no cognition of an
object is possible without a feeling. These intermediate concepts make
the dependence clear: there can be no acting without a feeling. Further¬
more, this shows only that there is a relationship of dependence between
G Cognition of an actual object refers to a feeling, does not exist without a feeling, and is
considered to be necessary only in consequence of a feeling (p. 129).

286	§ 13
the two propositions that make up the previously indicated circle; it does
not establish any synthesis.}
(2) This circle could be eliminated only by thinking, in addition, of the
relationship of dependence, and in such a way that feeling and acting
t39 would be thought of as united in the same stateH and would both con¬
stitute integral parts of a single whole. {Therefore, both must be
thought of synthetically and must be presented as united.}
Feeling is limitation, acting is freedom; consequently, limitation and
freedom would have to be {synthetically} united, and united in such a way
that neither is possible apart from the other. We would have to indicate
a kind of freedom that would not be freedom unless it were limited and
a kind of limitation that would not be limited unless it were free. There
would have to be some X in which both freedom and limitation would be
united.
How are freedom and limitation supposed to be united? {Let us begin
with a freedom that is not possible apart from limitation. What is the
meaning of this combination?}
■ Freedom may not be abolished. Freedom is an absolute movement of
transition from what is determinable to determinacy; {therefore,} the
limitation of freedom cannot lie in this transition itself. {Nor can the lim¬
itation lie in the fact that the I is forced to do this or that, for, in this case,
freedom would cease to exist. Accordingly, the limitation cannot lie either
in what is determinate or in the determinate being of the I.} [Instead,]
the limitation would have to lie in the fact that the determinability [with
which the movement begins] would itself be a finite quantum, and indeed,
in the fact that freedom could never express itself without reflecting
upon this quantum, {in the fact that this quantum would be only so large
and that only so much would be left over for the free choice, and that the
latter would have to be a choice only between this and that. [In short, the
limitation would lie in the fact] that no freedom whatsoever would ever
come into being if this quantum were not reflected upon.}
The unknown X is supposed to explain the limitation of freedom.20
Imagine a being that is active in any way whatsoever: e.g., a compressed,
steel spring that continues to resist the pressure applied to it. Activity is
present in such a case, but not free activity. It lies within the spring’s very
nature [to offer such resistance]: it is determined to act in this way.
There can be no question, however, of [such] determinacy in the case of
a rational being. It must have chosen to undergo a particular transition.
This [particular] movement of transition from indeterminacy to deter¬
minacy would have to constitute a [particular] quantum for its free
H How can this circle be avoided? Only by eliminating the dependence, so that feeling
and acting would be thought of as joined in one and the same state (p. 130).
20	“In dem unbekannten X liegt, daß die Freiheit beschränkt sein soll.”

§ 13	287
choice. In addition, the freedom ascribed to a rational being would have
to be such that no freedom would be possible without reflecting upon
this quantum. If this were so, then (since all limitation expresses itself
through a feeling) no free choice would be possible apart from a feeling
of limitation.1
{There can be no expression of freedom without some expression of (131)
limitation. Once again, however, this principle is valid only for those of
us who are engaged in philosophical inquiry, and only for the purpose
of explaining consciousness. It is not valid in and for itself, but only of—
and only for—our I.}
We have previously discussed limitation in general or as such, which
expresses itself through an original feeling (the feeling of [one’s] entire
state), i.e., through the system of sensibility, {which endures throughout
all alterations of feelings and is related to every particular feeling.
Consequently,} this system itself {(as a quantum of what is determinable),
from which, in accordance with the fundamental law of feeling, a rep¬
resentation would also have to follow,} would {here} be a feeling—and I
would possess this feeling only insofar as I were free.
Moreover, we have seen that this feeling [of the system of sensibility as
a whole] is posited as something in space: namely, as our body. This may
also be the case here: the sum total of our determinability would be our
body.J (Considered as something sensible,21 this determinate sum of de-
140 terminability will turn out to be individuality; whereas, thought of as
something supersensible, it will turn out to be the ethical law!)
It follows from our synthesis that this must be the case, for only in this
way is consciousness possible.
{Let us now [examine] this circle from both sides:}
A limitation that is impossible without freedom is a limitation of free¬
dom itself. It is a direction; more precisely, it is the original direction of
freedom upon a single point.22 This, however, does not accord with the
concept of freedom we have here established. We must {therefore} ex¬
amine this concept more closely than was previously necessary. We pre¬
viously said that freedom is an absolute movement of transition from
determinability to determinacy. Even in § i,K however, we already saw
1 Accordingly, no free choice—no acting—would be possible apart from a feeling, since
the expression of limitation is called “a feeling”: that is, a certain quantum of what is de¬
terminable (p. 130).
J This limitation of what is determinable may well be this overall system of sensibility; the
sum total of determinability may well be our body (p. 131).
21	“sinnlich betrachtet.”
22	“Richtung und zwar ursprüngliche Richtung derselben ist ein Punct.” The translation
of this obscure sentence has been guided by the parallel passage in H: “eine ursprüngliche
Beschränkung der Freyheit auf einen Punkt” (“an original limitation of freedom to a
single point”).
K In the first §§ (p. 131).

288	§ i3
that such a movement of transition is a condition that makes it possible
for the ideal activity of the I to intuit anything at all. Consequently, our
concept {of freedom} still includes something foreign: namely, the form
of intuition, {and, for this reason, freedom is already sensible}. Since we
here wish to present23 freedom in advance of all intuition and to estab¬
lish it as the condition for the possibility of all consciousness and of all
intuition, we must eliminate this foreign element, which is first added
through consciousness. Once we have done this, nothing will remain
[within the concept of freedom] except what is absolute.24 But what is
absolute {is for us empty and} cannot even be thought of unless we also
think of25 something empirical as well, though this cannot be anything
that would in any way detract from the purity {of the concept [of
freedom]}—that is, [what we must think about in conjunction with free¬
dom is] the temporal series of interdependent moments.26 {In this way,
freedom remains pure, and yet can, at the same time, be thought of, in¬
asmuch as we connect something sensible to it.} Freedom would thus be
the power to initiate an absolute beginning.27
We may not connect freedom to the [temporal] series, {for then the
concept of freedom would not remain pure}; instead, it is the series that
has to be connected to freedom. In this way, we obtain something abso¬
lutely primary, {and freedom thus transforms itself into} the power abso- (132)
lutely to begin {a series}.
(It is wrong to define freedom as a choice between a selfish and an
unselfish drive—if, that is, we are supposed to be thinking about pure
freedom. See Kant’s Metaphysical First Principles of fustice.)28
This freedom, however, is supposed to be determinate,1^ i.e., it is sup¬
posed to possess some specific direction, and this means that the power
to initiate an absolute beginning has a determinate direction of its own.
Freedom can {only} posit precisely this (= some determinate Y) as the
first member of the series: {this constitutes the limitation. But a limita¬
tion of this sort is possible only in connection with—and, indeed, is de¬
pendent upon—a power to initiate an absolute beginning, and is [thus]
23	“aufstellen.” Cp. H: “denken” (“to think”).
24	“sonach bleibt nichts übrig als Absolutheit.” As always, what Fichte means by “abso¬
lute” is “self-determined” or “not determined by anything else.” Thus, freedom is “the
power to initiate an absolute beginning” in the sense that it is an ability to initiate some¬
thing new (a new series of feelings)—something not determined by any prior state of the
I or of the world. In this sense, freedom must always involve an element of “absoluteness.”
25	Reading, with H, “hinzudenken” for K’s “hinzuthun” (“place there”).
26	“die Reihe der Dependenz in der Zeit.” Cp. H: “die Reihe der von einander depen-
direnden Glieder.”
27	“und Freiheit wäre das Vermögen absolut anzufangen.”
28	See sect. I of the Introduction (KGS, VI: 213-14).
LThis freedom is supposed to be limited (p. 132).

§ 13	289
a result of freedom.} In this way, we retain both the power to make an
absolute beginning and the limitation.M
The limitation consists in the fact that only Y can be the first member
of the series; but only the power to initiate an absolute and free begin¬
ning can be limited in this manner. There must therefore be a kind of
determinacy that applies only to freedom. We said above that if freedom
is to remain freedom, then determinacy cannot be prescribed to it in ad¬
vance. In the present case, however, even the determinacy is considered
to be the result of freedom.29 This might appear to contradict {what was
presented above, where the limitation of a free being was taken to be
what is determinable, i.e., a quantum or sum total for the sphere of pos¬
sible free actions}, but it does not; for determinability is posited as a
quantum, but a quantum cannot be thought of unless something else,
lying outside of this quantum, is also assumed. {We must therefore also
assume something that is undetermined but determinable, in relation to
which the latter—that is, what is determinable [considered as a specific
quantum]—becomes something determinate.} In this respect, what is
determinable would also be determinate. What is called “what is deter¬
minate” at one moment can, in another respect, also be what is deter¬
minable {—a quantum}.
The members of the synthesis—determinability and determinacy—
{which surely had to be united at some point,} would thus be united, and
the {first} member, which still has not been indicated or explained, would
{therefore} be both {at once}, depending upon how it were viewed: in
relation to what lies outside it, it possesses determinacy; insofar as it is
supposed to make a free choice possible, it is determinable.30
Our synthetic concept is freedom and determinacy in one. It is free¬
dom, insofar as an {absolute} beginning is made; it is determinacy, inso¬
far as a beginning can be made only in this particular way.
(3)	{Let us now determine this concept of freedom even more precisely,
which will be the final step in our synthetic ascent. (From now on, we
M In this way, freedom and limitation remain simultaneously alongside and connected
with one another (p. 132).
29	“hier ist ja die Beschränktheit selbst als Resultat der Beschränktheit angegeben
worden.” Reading “Freiheit” for the second occurrence of “Beschränktheit,” which makes
little sense in this context. Cp. the parallel passage in H: “wir hier die Beschränktheit zu
einem Bestimmten—zu einer bestimmten Richtung der Freyheit—machen” (“we here
make the limitation into something that has been determined—into a determinate direc¬
tion of freedom”).
30	“Bestimmbarkeit, in wiefern ihm eine Wahl durch Freiheit möglich sein soll.” Liter¬
ally: “Insofar as a free choice is supposed to be possible for it.” This makes little sense, and
hence the translation has been emended in the light of the parallel passage in H: “daß aus
ihm doch auch noch gewählt werden soll” (“insofar as a choice is also still supposed to be
made from it”).

290	§ 13
will be following a descending path. Hitherto we have been climbing
steadily upward: we thought of something as a possible consciousness,
which, however, we then found to be impossible without some second
thing, and then a third one, etc. Continuing in this manner, we ascended
steadily from what is conditioned to the condition. But now, after the
condition has been presented in its entirety, we will descend from the
condition to what is conditioned.)}
What has just been shown must now be connected with what was said
in the previous §, where we discussed the manifold of feeling insofar as
it is related to our exercise of causality and [showed] how we are able to
unify this manifold by relating it to and deriving it from our willing. {I (133)
first think my willing into the manifold, and anything whatsoever—a
manifold and an individual unit31—first comes into being for me
thereby.} This is the beginning of all consciousness.
■ We now wish to examine more closely {—with respect to its form—} this
state {in which I grasp a manifold by relating it to my single act of
willing, and thereby posit it within a temporal series}. It contains two
entirely different elements and has, as it were, two different sides. On
the one side lies something sensible, the manifold of feeling, {the sensi¬
ble intuition of an object that changes, as well as the concept of an
object}; on the other, {something supersensible,} the intelligible I, the
willing subject. Between these two sides, as their unifying {link}, there
lies the act of thinking of myself as containing within myself the foun¬
dation of the succession of the manifold. {This latter act of thinking joins
together both [the above elements], and through it I derive the succes¬
sion of feelings from my act of willing. This is the act of thinking that
was discussed in the preceding §.} How is it possible for me to think of
myself in this way, {namely, as willing, as the foundation of the succession
of feelings}?
{From where do I obtain [the awareness of] myself which is involved
in such an act of thinking? We have already explained how the con¬
cept of our will’s efficacious acting in the sensible world originates; in
order to think of myself in this way, however, I already have to be
aware of myself as the thinking subject.} This is the question we will
now investigate: How do I discover myself? Or—since thinking is an
ideal act, which presupposes that its object is given—how am I given
to myself?
In the previous §, we answered this question provisionally as follows:
This act of thinking refers to an intellectual intuition {of myself as a will¬
ing subject, and this intellectual intuition is immediate}. This must here
142 be made more precise. What is {this} intellectual intuition itself, and how
does it originate?
31	“wird erst für mich überhaupt etwas—ein Mannigfaltiges und eins.”

Origination32 is a temporal concept, something sensible. Intellectual
intuition, however, is not sensible, and thus it can have no origin. It
[simply] is, and we can talk about it only by contrasting it with sensible
intuition.N
{What then is this intellectual intuition itself?}
To begin with, intellectual intuition does not appear immediately {and
in isolation}; instead, it is only thought of in the indicated act of
thinking.33 Intellectual intuition34 is what is highest in a finite being, but
even a philosopher is able to accomplish this act of intellectual intuition
only by means of abstraction and reflection.0 {We are not acquainted (134)
with intellectual intuition through sensible intuition; instead, we have to
proceed by means of pure thinking and philosophizing.}
Viewed negatively, intellectual intuition is not sensible intuition. The
form of sensible intuition is the movement of transition from deter-
minability to determinacy; such movement, however, must be com¬
pletely absent from the act of willing we are here discussing, insofar as it
is intellectually intuited. All that remains is a sheer act of intuiting our
own determinate state, which is present but does not come into being.
(It goes without saying, that we are here considering only the form
of [such] intuition, since the I itself must be preserved.) Consequently,
intellectual intuition would be a simple act of intuiting myself as
something determinate. But how does this determinacy appear in this
case? It is appropriate to talk about “appearance” only in the context
of sensible perception. How then does this determinacy appear within
sensible perception?1* It appears there as an act of willing; according
to what was said above, however, willing can be characterized as an
“ought” or as a demand.35 Therefore, this determinacy of the I would
have to appear as a determinate, absolute ought, as a categorical de¬
mand. This mere form of willing, this absolute demand, is not yet the
ethical law. It first assumes an ethical character only when it is related to
a free choice within the sensible world,36 and we are not yet concerned
with this.
32	“Entstehen.”
N The only sense in which one can say that intellectual intuition “originates” is this: it
originates when and insofar as it is posited in opposition to a sensible intuition (p. 133).
33	“sie wird in jedem Denkacte nur gedacht.” Reading, with H, “jenem” for K’s “jedem”
(“every”).
34	“Sie.” Cp. H: “Dieser” (“This act of thinking is what is highest”).
0 We are acquainted with intellectual intuition only through thinking, through abstrac¬
tion and reflection, and through the inferences derived therefrom in accordance with the
rules of our philosophy (pp. 133-34).
p Thus it would be nothing but an act of intuiting ourselves as something determinate;
and this is the way we appear to ourselves within sensible intuition—we know nothing of
anything supersensible (p. 134).
“ein Sollen, ein Fordern.”
36	“dieses wird es erst, in wiefern es auf eine sinnliche Willkiihr bezogen wird.”

292	§ 13
One could call it “pure will,” {which does not come into being, but is
already there,} divorced from any of the conditions that make intuition
possible. This is what we must place at the basis of the act of thinking
described above [the act of thinking which connects the manifold of feel¬
ing to my own willing], {and it must be this that I observe within this
same act of thinking}. I now know what the object of this act of thinking
is, but I still do not know haw such an act can occur {—between pure
willing and this act of thinking}. Since this act of thinking is a necessary
one, {and since everything that is necessary is grounded in a feeling,} the
mediating link between it and willing must be supplied by a feeling of
some sort. {Consequently, some feeling must lie between this categorical
demand and this act of thinking.} What kind of feeling can this be? A
feeling is a limitation of striving; accordingly, striving must extend be-
143 yond the sphere of striving that is originally determined by pure willing,
and the limitation of this striving by an act of pure willing would pro¬
duce a feeling of prohibition, of not being permitted37 to go beyond this
sphere, a feeling of being obliged {to remain} within this sphere of the
“ought.”
(This act of going beyond the sphere determined by the pure will is
itself something sensible, because it is posited in opposition to pure will¬
ing, that is, in opposition to what is, properly speaking, the true I.)
Thus we find that freedom and limitation are originally united within
a categorical demand, {from which a representation of an object can be
easily derived,} and which must necessarily be assumed if consciousness
is to be explained. Freedom [is present here], inasmuch as a new begin¬
ning has to be made; limitation [is present as well], inasmuch as we are
here obliged not to go beyond a specific sphere [the sphere determined
by pure willing].
(4)	{The question is this: To what extent has the difficulty been re¬
solved? For the time being, we wish to answer this question only
provisionally.} The difficulty that faced us was actually this: to explain an
act of willing without {presupposing} any cognition of the object {of this
act—a pure act of willing—one that is present in itself—therefore some¬
thing original and a condition for the possibility of all consciousness.
Such an act of willing must be possible, because this act of willing, even
if it is considered only as an empirical one, already contains within itself
cognition of an object.} The reason for the above-mentioned difficulty
lay in the fact that we considered empirical willing (i.e., the movement of
transition from what is determinable to what is determinate) to be the
only kind of willing. This has now been denied; we have now postulated
a kind of willing which does not presuppose cognition of an object, but
37	“das Gefühl des Nichtdürfens.’

§ 13	293
which carries its object within itself and which is not based upon any act
of deliberation, {but which is original and is a pure act of willing—an act
of willing which is determinate without any assistance from us as em- (135)
pirical beings. Such willing is a demand. All empirical willing first arises
from this [pure] willing.
One commonly says, “I cannot will unless I first possess a cognition of
the object I am willing.” This, however, is not true, for there is also an¬
other kind of willing, one that provides itself with its own object and to
which, therefore, no object is given in advance.} With this, the source of
our difficulty has been entirely removed.
The pure will is the categorical imperative. Here, however, it will not
be employed as such, but will be employed only for the purpose of ex¬
plaining consciousness in general. Kant employs the categorical imper¬
ative only to explain consciousness of duty.
(5)	38 The empirical will is derived from the pure will, and all other ob¬
jects are derived from the object of the pure will.
Any time we attempt to explain consciousness, we have to assume
something that is first and original. This was the case in our previous
account of feeling, and it is also the case in our present account of will¬
ing: {we have to assume an original act of willing, which simply is what
it is}. Every act of thinking, every act of representing, lies between and
mediates39 original willing and limitation through feeling.^ We are able
to observe the {modifications of the} ideal activity, because ideal activity
is the only thing we are able to intuit or to grasp, {and from this there
arise the various states of our mediated consciousness, as well as what is
sensible}.
(6)	Our present task is not to establish a theory of morality,40 but rather
to provide a general account of consciousness, and we can do this only by
144 presupposing the pure will as described above. What we have to show
now is how this presupposition will allow us to explain our consciousness
of objects. {How does an object arise through this act of willing?}
Pure willing, at this point, is not supposed to be anything more than
the explanatory ground of consciousness; it is still a hypothesis, not
yet an object of consciousness. {One should think of this determinacy
of pure willing in the most indeterminate manner possible—as a mere
38	In K the following three paragraphs appear at the end of sect. 4, whereas in H they
constitute a separate section (sect. 5). The translation from now on follows the numbering
of the sections in H, with the result that the following sects. 6-8 actually correspond to
sects. 5-7 of § 13 in K, and sect. 9 corresponds to sect. 8 in K (which is, in fact, the second
section labeled “(7)” in Krause’s MS) and to the unnumbered “General Survey” in H.
39	“liegt zwischen [ . . . ] in der Mitte.” More literally: “lies in the middle between.”
QThe ideal activity lies between and mediates original willing and feeling (p. 135).
40	“eine Moral aufzustellen.”

294	§ *3
hypothesis, as a qualitas occulta, or however else one may wish—since it
does not appear within consciousness at all. We posit it here only as if
it were something. (It is the text of all possible philosophy and the ex- (136)
planatory ground of all our thinking). Assuming, then, that it exists,
what would follow from this?} Later on we will show how pure willing
appears within consciousness; here we are concerned only with the con¬
sequences that follow when it is presupposed as the explanatory ground
of consciousness.
All consciousness is sensible; it is an expression of a particular act of
the intellect, of the ideal activity, and it is governed by laws—at the very
least, {and above all,} by the law of transition from determinability to de-
terminacy. {(As something sensible, the ideal activity is also subject to the
laws of space.)} As a result of this affection [of the ideal activity], every¬
thing that is thought of necessarily becomes sensible. The indicated
pure will, however, is supposed to be something supersensible, yet some¬
thing sensible is supposed to follow from it. How then is the pure will
mediated with sensible consciousness? As we said above, this occurs by
means of a feeling,R {a feeling that lies between and mediates pure will¬
ing and sensible intuition,} for feeling is what comes first; every action of
consciousness commences with a feeling. (We also said above that this is
a feeling of striving, of “ought,” of a demand, of limitation, and—to this
extent—of prohibition.)
Feeling, as such, is an expression of the I’s limitation; such an expres¬
sion of limitation, however, is impossible without an expression of striv¬
ing, since what is limited [in feeling] is precisely striving. Limitation and
striving are necessarily united. This general principle must apply here
as well. Here, however, what we are concerned with is not limitation as
such or in general, but rather the limitation [of the I] by an absolute,
pure act of willing, one that does not depend upon the power of free
choice, {but originally is. Through this limitation, a striving is supposed
to be limited in me.} This would be a striving, a disposition toward
willing,41 which, because of the limitation [imposed by the pure will], is
unable to become an act of willing—i.e., a desire;42 and, since the pure
will is categorical, the feeling of this limitation {of desire} would be a
feeling of prohibition.
Remark: Kant has often (especially in the introduction to his treatise
on natural right43) spoken as if the desire that strives in opposition to
R All thinking is governed by the law of transition from what is determinable to what is
determinate, and all consciousness becomes sensible thereby. But pure willing is supposed
to be something supersensible, and yet is supposed to have consequences in sensible con¬
sciousness and to merge with the latter; and, as we remarked a moment ago, this is sup¬
posed to occur through the mediation of a feeling (p. 136).
41	“eine Tendenz zum Wollen.”
42	“eine Begierde.”
43	See sect. II of the Introduction to the Metaphysical Elements of Justice (KGS, VI: 2i5ff.).

§ 13	295
the pure will is simply inexplicable. It can certainly be explained, how¬
ever: it is a condition for the possibility of self-consciousness, for it is the
condition for a feeling of pure willing; and only by means of such a feel¬
ing does pure willing become pure willing, i.e., a law {for us}, and no
consciousness is possible unless pure willing is presupposed.
Desire applies to all finite reason. Anyone who wants to be released
from desire wants to be released from consciousness.
We cannot consider any finite, rational, conscious being to be holy,
{[for] every finite, rational creature is conscious of a desire that strives in
opposition to the above-mentioned law. Therefore, God alone is “holy”
(i.e., without this desire), and, for the same reason, no consciousness can
be ascribed to God, or at least this is incomprehensible to us.} God’s con¬
sciousness cannot be explained.
The union of pure willing and desire produces the feeling of an
“ought,” of an inner, categorical drive toward acting.44 (Later on we will
see what this acting refers to.)
{(A) Here again, one must think of the pure will and of the categorical
demand of the same in a quite indeterminate fashion; i.e., one must not (137)
yet think of a categorical imperative. For we are not yet in the realm of
morality; but rather, as is well known, we are at present trying to explain
all consciousness as such and in its entirety.
(B)} The union of prohibition and desire produces {not an “ought,”
but merely} a [feeling of] being permitted to satisfy the desire {in a cer¬
tain respect, without any immediate expression of the categorical drive
within the power of feeling}. Whatever is included within the sphere of
what I am allowed to do is permitted.
{(C)} Thanks to the presence of a desire that is supposed to be limited,
pure willing exercises an influence upon the power of feeling.
{The “ought” first arises from the unification of pure willing, insofar
as this exercises an influence upon our power of feeling, and thus upon
some desire, which is thereby restricted to a narrow sphere, from which
everything that is prohibited is excluded. Consequently, an “ought”
arises when what is permitted accords with pure willing. Consider, for
example, [the difference between] natural law and morality:} The theory
of natural law or natural right is concerned with what we are permitted
to do, rather than with what we ought to do. It refers only to empirical
willing. Morality tells us that we ought to do something, which, from the
standpoint of natural right, we are merely permitted to do.45 {The latter
deals with empirical human beings and permits justice toward others;
morality, on the other hand, makes justice a duty for the intelligible
person.}
44	“Treibens zum Handeln.”
45	More literally: “What, from the forum of natural right, is permitted is, from the fo¬
rum of morality, an ought.”

296	§ 13
This feeling of “ought” contains within itself, in a very compressed
form, everything we demanded in order to resolve the contradiction dis¬
cussed above: limitation of our desire,s plus the freedom to initiate an
absolute beginning, {understood as a drive to be the absolutely first
member [of a series], that is, to produce out of itself a series in the sen¬
sible world.
Consciousness also confirms the presence within us of such a drive,
and it does so through the unease that arises within us when we neglect
to do enough to comply with and to heed this drive.}
This feeling is categorical, not merely with respect to its content (an
absolute demand without any further ground), but also in its form. As
surely as any rational being exists at all, a feeling of this sort must also be
present, {and without this feeling there would be no rational being what¬
soever. Everything is connected to this immediate “ought.”} Conscious¬
ness necessarily follows from this feeling. It is therefore and necessarily
a determinate consciousness, and it must appear within the conscious¬
ness of every rational being.
(7)	As with all feelings, this feeling of “ought” also gives rise to an intu¬
ition and a concept.
Consequently, this feeling must be thought of. Let us begin by treating
it as pure willing. {To be sure, this act of thinking of the “ought” first
occurs by means of an intuition. But in order to increase the clarity of
what follows, we will now abstract from this fact and will leap directly to
thinking.
The “ought” is now to become an object of thought; i.e., it is to be con¬
sidered as a pure act of willing, as something intelligible—as what I nec¬
essarily will; in other words, it is an “ought.” This pure willing, however,
is an “ought” only insofar as it is a feeling. On the other hand, it can be
thought of only in accordance with the laws of thinking. The highest law (138)
of thinking states that} every act of thinking is a movement of transition
from determinability to determinacy. Every act of thinking is a determi¬
nate activity {within time}, which wrenches something out of the undif-
146 ferentiated mass46 [of what is determinable] and determines it. {All my
thinking is discursive.} When anything is assimilated into the form of
thinking, {it is and appears to be a transition from what is determinable
to what is determinate, [and]} it itself becomes determinate. {Therefore,
when I think of what is intelligible it thereby becomes something sensible;
that is to say, I assimilate it to the law and to the form of the transition
from what is determinable to what is determinate.} (This is the first im-
s It contains the concept of our endless desire (p. 137).
46	“aus der Maße herausreißt.”

§ 13	297
portant point one must become clear about in order to understand how
something sensible can be produced from what is supersensible.)
When we think of willing, we must think of it in just the way in which
we have thought of and described it here.T
{In this way, willing becomes something determinable precisely be¬
cause, as a pure act of willing, it was something determinate. Insofar as
it was considered to be determinate, it was something intelligible; on the
other hand, considered as an object of thought and as something deter¬
minable, it becomes something sensible.)
(The second important point is that something determinable must be
presupposed for every act of determining, and the reason for this is to be
found in the form of our sensible thinking.)
What is intelligible becomes sensible insofar as it is thought of in con¬
junction with something determinable.
Let us now examine what is determinable [when we think about the
“ought”]. As we have seen, the “ought” can be thought of only if a system
of what is determinable is presupposed. What is determinable in this
case would not exist apart from the task of thinking the “ought”; nor
could such a task exist apart from the “ought” itself {—as a pure act of
willing}. (What is determinable is introduced only through thinking.)
{Hitherto, we were always forced to presuppose such a determinable
something in order to explain our thinking. It may well turn out to be
the case that everything determinable is nothing more than the deter¬
minable something just indicated.}
Something determinable must necessarily be posited, and, from this,
all the objects of consciousness will be derived, as mediated—that is, as
produced by means of an immediate consciousness of the “ought.”
(Within the context of the Critical philosophy, this {thought of what is
determinable in this case} is not a new thought. It is contained in Kant’s
practical postulate: “I ought to do something; therefore, what I ought to
do must be possible.”47 This thought is identical to the Fichtean claim: “I
think of my ‘ought,’ and, as surely as I think of this, I think of my tran¬
sition from determinability to determinacy; thus, in addition to the
‘ought,’ I must also think of what is determinable.”u Kant’s demonstra¬
tion that “can” follows “ought” is purely analytic, however, whereas phi¬
losophy [properly] concerns itself with synthetic thinking.48
T Therefore, if willing is to be thought of at all, then it is also thought of in this manner,
that is, assimilated to this form—Just as we also described willing above as actually such a
movement of transition (p. 138).
47	See Pt. I, Bk. I, Chap. 1, § 6 of the Critique of Practical Reason, as well as Pt. II (KGS,
V: 30 and 159).
^“I think of the ‘ought.’ As surely as I think of this, I must think of this determinability,
which I can think of only in this way; and I must think of this determinability as something
necessary” (p. 138).
48	“Das Object der Philosophic aber ist ein synthetisches Denken.”

298	§ 13
{Analytic thinking proceeds from the assumption that all consciousness (1
is nothing more than an analysis of what is originally given to me within
time—which, however, might also not have been the case.
Synthetic thinking is the necessary connection of all our consciousness
to one single point.
To think synthetically of the “ought” with which we are presently con¬
cerned means that I am supposed to derive it from and to connect it with
something determinable.} I must think of myself as being obliged to do
something; but, just as surely as I have to think of myself in this way, I
must also think of something determinable. This [connection between
the thought of the “ought” and what is determinable] is synthetic.
■ Moreover, the scope of Kant’s practical postulate is too narrow, for
he limits it entirely to belief in God and immortality; but we will see that
consciousness in its entirety is included within this postulated
147 At the time he was writing the Critique of Pure Reason, Kant had not yet
worked all of this out with complete clarity. The first Critique is con¬
cerned only with sensible, objective thinking, and the I appears there
not [as it is] for itself, but only as an accident. In the Critique of Judgment
and the Critique of Practical Reason, however, the I is presented [as it is]
for itself.)w {But it would have required an enormous effort to revise his
Critique of theoretical reason at this point; therefore, it remained as it
was.}
From this, one can see how a sensible world can originate from the
intelligible world in the following way:
(1)	We must think discursively.
(2)	We must presuppose something determinable for everything de¬
terminate.
(3)	This determinable something we have to presuppose {and which
precedes my act of self-determining} acquires the character of objectiv¬
ity. (It appears as something discovered or given, something present
without any assistance from us.)x
I become conscious of this movement of transition—be it a transition
within thinking or one within willing—as my own accomplishment.
Here again, however, this always presupposes something determinable,
from which this movement begins; and, to this extent, what is deter¬
minable is “given.” It does not appear except insofar as I think about
it; but when I think and will anything, what is determinable appears
as something that conditions my thinking and willing, as something
“discovered.”
v Our entire consciousness depends upon this postulate (p. 139).
w Only in his Critique of Practical Reason and Critique of fudgment does the I become self-
sufficient (p. 139).
x What precedes all thinking and has to be presupposed is something determinable, to which the
character of objectivity is attached, and it appears as something given, or discovered (p. 139).

§ 13	299
With this remark, our idealism comes into conformity with reason and
explains consciousness. Transcendent idealism claims that things owe
their existence only to the imagination.49 (The Kantian philosophy al¬
ready asserts that experience is an appearance, but not an illusion.)50
(8)	According to the above, this “ought,” or determinate, pure willing, is
itself something objective, {something “discovered,” something “given.”
Consequently, what is determinate also appears as something objective
and present without any help from us.} As something flowing, con¬
sciousness originates only with a feeling of some alteration in our state;
but this alteration is thought of as an alteration in the state of the willing
subject,51 which is here presupposed as something with which we are, as
it were, already familiar, since it is simply there. {Original willing is re¬
lated to this alteration as something that is already, originally there,
something that does not first come into being and does not lie beyond
the domain of willing. Consequently, this pure act of willing does not (140)
first originate through an act of thinking; instead, it [simply] is, and it
must exist in advance of all thinking. It is here thought of as determined
by a movement of transition from something determinable (i.e., from
something that, to the extent it is thought of, is thought of as possessing
the power to cause a feeling or an alteration [in our state]), and indeed,
as a movement of transition from what is determinable to what is deter¬
minate. The thinking subject is unable to discover itself within this
movement as the subject that freely directs the same; on the contrary,
this movement of transition must also appear as something that exists in
itself, something determined prior to all thinking, something that occurs
prior to all consciousness.}
The manifold of feeling is unified52 insofar as we posit our own self-
determination within this manifold. Thus we here have [a whole, con¬
sisting of] two halves: (a) the manifold, and (p) our own self-
determination. We posit the latter within the former, and this is what
makes self-consciousness possible.53
Empirical thinking was described in the previous §. All empirical
thinking begins with a perception of some alteration in the state [of the
I], but this is perceived only insofar as the alteration is connected with
willing. I relate myself to this alteration as what is presupposed for
the possibility of thinking. This I is the willing subject, which thereby
49	“Das Dasein der Dinge sei nur Einbildung.” For the difference between “transcen¬
dent” and “transcendental” idealism, see GWL, § 4, E (SW, I: 147).
50	See, e.g., KRV, B69.
51	“wird auf das Wollende bezogen.” More literally: “This alteration is related to the will¬
ing subject.” Cp. H: “the original act of willing is related to this alteration.”
“ist eins.”
53	This entire paragraph appears as marginal remark in K.

300	§ i3
possesses the character of something objective. Consequently, pure will¬
ing does not originate by means of thinking; on the contrary, it is already
presupposed by thinking.
When I act efficaciously,54 I actually transport myself from one state
of feeling to another, {and my feeling and my thinking are altered
thereby}. This is a transition I accomplish by means of my own free will. {I
discover myself.} Thus, whenever I construct for myself a free concept—
when, for example, I imagine one object occupying the position of some
other object in space—this alteration is one that is supposed to have oc¬
curred by means of my own will, in consequence of a concept.
The situation, however, is quite different when I observe an alteration
in the world of objects—the growth of a plant, for example. This also
involves an alteration, but not one that depends upon me. In a case like
this, I discover myself merely as the subject observing this movement of
transition.
How is the movement of transition of my pure willing from its deter-
minability to determinacy55 related {to consciousness}? This is a transi¬
tion that occurs without any help from us, for we ourselves first come
into being by means of our movement. (I appear to myself as deter¬
mined to determine myself in one way or another.) The Idea that we
ourselves originate within time is contained in this. The I here appears
to itself as determined to have to determine itself in just the way it does
determine itself, and the movement of transition is here thought of not
as free, but rather as necessary. It is something discovered. This deter¬
minacy, which constitutes my basic character,56 consists in the fact that I
am determined to determine myself in a certain way. For this reason, it
assigns me only the task of acting in a certain way; it assigns me an
“ought.” Man’s determinate nature or “vocation”57 is not something he
gives to himself; instead, it is that through which a human being is a hu¬
man being.
All {my} thinking is a movement of transition from what is determin¬
able to what is determinate. {I can think only discursively. This is the
fundamental law of our thinking, the condition for the possibility of the
same.} The object of thinking, however, can be of two different sorts:
(A) I receive the object as something {indeterminate and} determinable,
which I then proceed to determine through my own thinking—e.g.,
when I move an object in space to another position. Or,
54	“Wenn ich wurke.”
55	Reading, with H, “von seiner Bestimmbarkeit zur Bestimmtheit” for K’s “von seiner
Bestimmbaren zum Bestimmten” (“from its determinable [something] to what is determi¬
nate”).
56	“meinen Hauptcharakter.”
57	“Die Bestimmung des Menschen.”

§ 13	301
149	(B) the object is discovered to be something completely determi¬
nate, which I am therefore unable to think of as determined by my
thinking. In this case, I cannot58 think of myself as determining it. {All
my thinking, however, is made possible only by the aforementioned tran¬
sition from what is determinable to what is determinate, and this must
therefore be the case here as well.} Consequently, my thinking must
appear {to me} to be observing the act of determining59—[it appears] to
be passive.
{Let us now apply this to the present case.} I discover myself, for ex¬
ample, to be originally determinate: I ought to do something; in other
words, I discover my pure will. {This does not first come into being by
means of my own thinking; instead,} this pure will is already given to my
thinking, insofar as it is an act of thinking of this sort [that is, the kind of
thinking that takes itself to be passively observing an act of determina¬
tion]. {It must be thought of, however;} but pure will can be thought of
only as a movement of transition from what is determinable to what is
determinate. {This transition simply occurs as it does, whether I will
anything or not. This constitutes the fundamental law of my thinking,
[in relation to which] I am a mere observer.60}
Viewed as it is here, that is, in the context of the fundamental concept
of its original determinacy, the I is something intelligible, something
“mental” or “spiritual,”61 and it can be determined only negatively, by
abstracting from outer intuition. The form of outer intuition—space
and matter62—does not pertain in the least to such a being.Y But [even]
as a spiritual being, the I is still a determinate one, and what is deter¬
minable thereto [i.e., what becomes determined as this determinate
58	Reading, with H, “dann kann ich mich nicht als bestimmend denken,” for K’s “nun
kann ich mich aber nur denken, als bestimmend” (“but I can only think of myself as de¬
termining”), which would appear to assert the opposite of what the rest of this passage
asserts.
59	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “Bestimmen” for K’s “Bestimmten” (“what is deter¬
mined”).
60	“Dieses Uebergehen ist nun einmahl so, ich mag wollen oder nicht—es ist das Haupt-
gesez meines denkens. Ich bin nur zuschauend.”
61	“etwas intelligibles, ein geistiges.”
62	Reading, with H, “Materie” for K’s “Zeit” (“time”), which is presumably an error on
Krause’s part. (Time is the form of inner intuition.) Thanks to its complete lack of punc¬
tuation, it might still be possible to make sense of the sentence in K (“Die Form der
äuseren Anschauung Raum und Zeit paßt darauf gar nicht”) by rendering it: “Space, the
form of outer intuition, and time do not pertain in the least to such a being.” The pre¬
ceding sentence, however, clearly states that we are here concerned only with abstraction
from the form of outer intuition; hence it seems best to correct K with reference to H.
Y The I is here only something intelligible, merely something thought of—apart from
space and matter—something purely spiritual. I.e., one must abstract from the form of
outer intuition, while continuing to think of something; in this way, one obtains [the
thought of] a mind or spirit (p. 141).

302	§ 13
spiritual being] must also be purely spiritual: a purely spiritual mass {or (141
sphere}.63 (Sit venia verbo,64 65 this “spiritual mass” will later reveal itself to
be the realm of rational beings. The I is a determinate portion of this
mass; as we shall see below, what is spiritual is divisible.) The I is rea¬
son—determinate reason.
What is determinable in this case is reason as a whole (my generic
essence).65,2 I myself am what is determinate {(through a feeling), as
what is posited in opposition to this sphere}: namely, I as an individual (for
I posit a sphere of rational beings in opposition to myself).
We must now compare to each other what is determinable and what is
determinate in this case. These are opposed to each other as follows: I
am what is determinate, but I am not what is determinable. What is de¬
terminable is Not-I. On the other hand, what is determinable and what is
determinate are here similar, inasmuch as both are equally spiritual.
(I.e., they can be grasped only by thinking; they are both noumena.)
How does what is determinate become I? In what sense am I an “I”—
as opposed to other beings similar to myself?
Hitherto we have employed the word “I” to designate self-reverting
activity; this will no longer suffice, however, for it serves only to distin¬
guish rational beings from other, irrational objects. (Moreover, as we will
see later, self-reverting activity can also be ascribed to the organic prod¬
ucts of nature.) Hence, [in order to obtain an adequate concept of the I]
something else must be added: the thought of the self-reverting activity
must be connected with this self-reverting activity.AA
150 The determinacy I myself produce gives rise to a feeling, and from
this feeling there arises the thought of myself. Thus I discover myself to
be an object, and I am an object for myself. I can discover myself to be
an object, however, only on one condition: namely, that I discover myself
to be one individual among many spiritual beings.
It is a cardinal principle of Critical idealism that one begin with some¬
thing intelligible. Proceeding in accordance with this principle, we have
finally been driven to [posit the existence of] a pure act of willing. Em¬
pirical willing is not sufficient. Each of my empirical determinations re-
63	“eine Maße des rein geistigen.”
64	“If I may be be permitted to say so.”
65	“Wesen meiner Gattung.”
z What is determinable is all reason and freedom, i.e., the realm of spirits, as my generic
essence (p. 141).
AA Until now, “I-hood” signified for us “self-reverting activity.” But other beings like me
also contain such an activity within themselves; they too are supposed to be able to limit
themselves. Indeed, even living66 things—plants, for example—possess a self-reverting ac¬
tivity (but we will discuss this later). Therefore, an additional criterion has to be added: I
am an “I” only if the self-reverting activity also gives rise to the thought of the same—a
thought that is immediately united with this activity. The thought of myself follows as a
consequence of the feeling of my pure willing (p. 141).
66	Reading “lebendige” for H’s “leblose” (“lifeless”).

fers to my original determinacy, and I can think of these determinations
only if I presuppose such an original determinacy. I could not ascribe
this power to myself had I not first discovered it; but I can discover it
only as determinacy and pure willing.
Remarks:
(1)	I discover myself, therefore, as an object; I am given to myself.
(2)	What is determinable is a realm of rational beings outside of
me. But I think of rational beings outside of me only in order to explain
the manifold. I do not perceive the reason and the free will of others
outside of me; this is something I only infer from appearances in the
sensible world. Consequently, these other rational beings belong not
within the sensible world, but rather within the intelligible one, the
world of noumena.BB
(The most striking demonstration of the incompleteness of Kant’s
Critical philosophy is that Kant has never provided an explanation of
this point, {that is, how I come to assume that there are rational beings (142)
outside of me}. {According to his system, I cannot answer, “I know this
from experience,” because, according to Kant, no experience, in the
dogmatic sense, of something “in itself” is even possible. He himself also
says that reason outside of us is not anything that can be perceived and
that no outer intuition of it is possible.}68 He came very close to answer¬
ing this question in the Critique of Judgment, for it would be on the basis
of the principle of reflective judgment that this assumption [that there
are other free, rational beings] could be explained.69 When it proceeds
in accordance with the general laws of thought, that is, in accordance
with the categories, the power of judgment simply subsumes [things
under their proper categories]. But there can also be cases where one
cannot proceed in this manner and yet must nevertheless make a judg¬
ment, and, in such cases, one must proceed in an opposite manner. Kant
BB I discover myself as an object—I am an object for myself. But I cannot do this unless
I discover myself to be an individual. Each of my empirical determinations can be derived
only from my original determinacy and can be thought of only if the latter is presupposed.
We said above that what is determinable is the realm of rational beings. How do I arrive
at this claim?
Reply: Rational beings are merely thought of. By means of thinking, I project them67
into the manifold of appearances in order to explain these appearances to myself. (Just as,
above, I also had to project myself into the manifold [of feelings] in order to explain this
manifold.) For reason—that is, a free act of willing on the part of others outside of me—is
not something I can see or hear or feel, etc.; instead, I think of other rational beings and
infer their existence purely on the basis of a perception in the sensible world. I think of
them in order to introduce unity into appearances and into my overall experience. Reason,
freedom, and rational beings: these therefore belong within the intelligible world, among
the noumena (p. 141).
67	“ich denke mir dieselben [. . . ] hinein.”
68	See KRV, B59 and A346/B404ff.
69	See the Introduction to the Critique of Judgment, as well as the treatment of teleological
judgments in the second half of the same work.

3°4	§ *3
indicates this, but only in the case of judgments concerning the organic
products of nature.
The principle according to which we assume the existence of rational
beings outside of ourselves is not presented in Kant’s writings as a prin¬
ciple that provides the basis for any cognition; instead, it is presented as
a practical principle, which is how he has formulated it in the moral
151 principle that states, “I should act in such a manner that the way in
which I act could become a law for every rational being.”70 In order to
do this, however, I must first assume the existence of rational beings out¬
side of me; for otherwise, how could I apply this law to them?)
{This has led a Dutch scholar71 to ask whether our practical reason is
something different from our speculative reason. Though Kant and all
the Kantians have merely laughed at this question, your instructor does
not join in their laughter. Such a question is quite natural. Is it possible
that only our practical reason possesses any knowledge of [other] ratio¬
nal beings and relates its actions to them? Must not theoretical reason
also possess such knowledge? Your instructor replies: it is precisely this
command addressed to my practical reason which is also the principle,
or cognitive ground,72 [that permits me] to think of rational being? out¬
side of myself. Thanks to the connection between practical and theoret¬
ical reason, by virtue of its drive toward acting, this same reason is also
a basis of cognition72 and serves as a principle for the theoretical as¬
sumption that there are [other] rational beings.}
According to the order of thinking, therefore, I myself am the first
and highest thing I discover; I cannot discover myself apart from similar
beings outside of me, however, for I am an individual. {It makes no sense
to say “I am an individual” unless others are thought of as well.} Accord¬
ingly, my experience begins with a realm73 of rational beings, to which I
myself belong; and everything else follows from this.cc This [realm of
rational beings] constitutes the intelligible world: it is a “world,” inas-
70	See sects. 1 and 2 of the Grundlegung zur Metaphysik der Sitten (1785) (KGS, IV: 402 and
436-37). English translation by Lewis White Beck, Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals
(Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1959), p. 18 and 55. See too Critique of Practical Reason, Pt. I,
Bk. I, Chap. I, § 7 (KGS, V: 30).
71	The “Dutch scholar” is identified by the editors of A A IV, 2 as Paulus van Hemert
(1756-1825), who raised this question in his 1799 treatise, Ueber die Existence der Principien
eines reinen uneigennützen Wohlwollens im Menschen. This attribution, however (which is, of
course, incompatible with the hypothesis that H dates from some semester before the win¬
ter semester of 1798/99), is very uncertain and has been quite plausibly challenged by
Radrizzani in the introduction to his French translation of the WLnm, pp. 34-35. See “Dat¬
ing the Halle Transcript” in the Editor’s Introduction.
72	“ErkenntniPgrund,” in both instances.
73	Reading, with H, “Reiche” instead of K’s “Reihe” (“series”).
cc Properly speaking, all other appearances are first connected to this intelligible world.
One can thereby see how all additional experience in its entirety is connected with what is
determinable—that is, how the remaining world of experience, including the sensible
world, is connected to the realm of rational beings (p. 143).
(143)

§ 13	3°5
much as it is something discovered; it is “intelligible,” inasmuch as it can
only be thought of and [cannot] be intuited.DD {These are the conditions
for the possibility of the intelligible world: it is there, I discover it, and
then I think about it; and, because I think about it, it is discovered—and
is therefore a “world.” I do not assimilate it to the form of intuition, how¬
ever; instead, it is for me merely a possible act of thinking—and is there- (144)
fore “intelligible.”
Kant has not given an adequate account of what is discovered; that is,
he has not explained where the world comes from. For him, the world is
merely something that we always think of in conjunction with what¬
ever else we might be thinking of—something that simply has to be
assumed.}
The world of experience is erected upon the intelligible world. Both
worlds {—the intelligible (thought-of) world and the world of experi¬
ence (discovered)—} occur simultaneously; neither can exist without the
other. These two worlds are reciprocally related to each other within the
mind. {Precisely because I think of the world of experience, I must also
think of the intelligible world, in order to introduce unity into the man¬
ifold of our experience—and vice versa.}
Both worlds arise from the laws of ideal activity: the intelligible world
has its origin in the laws of thinking; the empirical world has its origin
in the laws of intuition. Both are something ideal (noumena), but not
things in themselves.
Both worlds have their foundation in something that is simply and
originally present: the determination of the pure will. Thus, if one
wants to talk about what exists “in itself,” this would be the pure will,EE
which reveals itself within the empirical world74 as the ethical law. This
was also noted by Kant in the Critique of Pure Reason.75
(9)	{General Overview of the Present §: To what extent has the difficulty
indicated above now been removed? And how has this been accom¬
plished?}
All my spiritual or mental acting,FF as such, presupposes something to
which it is directed. As an act of modifying, it presupposes something
modifiable. Expressed differently; my acting always involves a movement of
transition76 from what is determinable to what is determinate; but there
must be something fixed, which supports this movement. {There must
DD It is intelligible, for it is discovered in and by means of nothing but a pure act of think¬
ing (p. 143).
FF If one wished to assume something in itself, this would be the determination of the
pure will, which would be the only “something in itself' (p. 144).
74	“in der Empirie.”
75	See KRV, B430 and A532/B560-A558/B586.
FF All inner acting of the mind (p. 144).
76	Reading, with H, “ein Uebergehen” for K’s “ein Uiberschweben.” As Radrizzani notes,
Uiberschweben (“to hover or float above”) makes little sense in this context, since only

be, as it were, some guiding thread, some rail along which it can move.}
There must be something enduring and constant; and it is this that we
have sought and have [now] discovered as an immediate object of con¬
sciousness.
{One might wish to explain consciousness on the basis of the sensibly
constructed concept of a goal; yet this act of constructing is itself a move¬
ment of transition and thus must also begin with an original concept, or
concept of an object. Before I can undertake my movement of transi¬
tion, a concept of an object must already be present. I obtain this con¬
cept of an object merely from the fact that I am limited in my acting; but
this limitation is not possible unless I act; nor, in turn, can I act without
a concept of a goal. This is and remains a perpetual circle. Consequently,
sensible consciousness cannot be accounted for on the basis of itself
alone. Something else is required, something that is elevated above ev¬
erything sensible.
Accordingly, something supersensible has to be assumed, so that this
can be related to sensible consciousness as the object of the same. This
supersensible something must therefore be something objective, insofar
as it is supposed to be something given. It can be something given only
insofar as it is something determinate. Consequently, what is supersen¬
sible or intelligible must be something determinate.
An objective, given, and determinate [supersensible] something of
this sort, however, can only be the will, for it alone is the immediate ob- (145)
ject of consciousness; it alone is the immediate, real activity of the I.
Consequently,} this determinacy of the pure will is the explanatory
ground of all consciousness.
{I and the realm of rational beings surrounding me constitute the first
object of our consciousness, and the rest of the objects of our cognition
now follow without difficulty.}
■ The present § is related to the preceding ones in the following way:
The preceding §§ merely paved the way; in this §, we have established
the point from which everything else is derived, and the difficulty has
now been removed.GG {We now embark upon a new path, in the course
of which we will derive all the remaining objects of our consciousness.}
§ 13
Real efficacy is possible only in accordance with a concept of a goal; a
concept of a goal is possible only on the condition of a cognition; and
thoughts—not actions—can “hover.” Presumably, this represents a simple error of tran¬
scription on Krause’s part.
^ Thus we finally have a fixed point, and all the previous §§ have served, so to speak,
only as an introduction that allowed us to ascend to this highest point (p. 145).

§ 13	3°7
such a cognition is possible only on the condition of a real efficacy: con¬
sequently, consciousness would not be explained at all by this circle.
There must therefore be something that simultaneously is an object
of cognition and is efficacious. All these features are united in only
one thing: in pure will, which must be presupposed prior to all empiri¬
cal willing and to all empirical cognition. This pure will is something
purely intelligible, but it can express itself through a feeling of “ought,”
and in this way it becomes an object of thought. To the extent that this
occurs, pure willing is assimilated into the overall form of thinking as
something determinate in opposition to something determinable. In
this way, I, the willing subject, .become an individual, and there comes
into being for me a realm of rational beings, as what is determinable in
this case. Consciousness in its entirety can and must be derived from this
HFI
pure concept.
HH [. .. ] from these pure concepts (p. 145).

152
§ 14
{Let us begin with a more precise statement of our next task:
According to § 12,} a feeling is possible for me only insofar as an al¬
teration occurs within the system of sensibility; and this produces an ob¬
jective cognition.A Such a cognition, however, is possible only in
consequence of acting and only insofar as I think of myself as a cause {§
13}; but I think of myself as a cause only when I relate the manifold of
feeling1 to pure willing, {[that is,] to myself as the willing subject, in or¬
der to be able to grasp this manifold}. Pure willing is {nothing that could
be altered; it is} originally determinate (although it is not empirically de¬
termined)8 and determining; it is a pure act of willing insofar as it ex¬
presses itself as a {feeling of} “ought.” An act of willing which is supposed
to have empirical consequences—i.e., to produce an alteration in our
feelings—must thus itself be empirical, for the determinacy of the feel¬
ings is explained by the determinacy of the will {as the ground of the
former}; but a will that is not related to such feelings is no will at all.
{Something pure and intelligible does not, by itself, explain anything
empirical;} consequently, the pure will explains nothing.
Our present task is to explain how pure willing becomes empirical
willing. {Once again, therefore, we must seek an intermediate term to
fill this gap between what is intelligible and what is empirical.}
153	Preliminary Explication by Means of Examples
(1) I move an object through space and observe this movement. The
object is first in one place, then in another, etc. The [position of this]
A[. . . ] produces an objective representation (p. 145).
1	Reading “Gefühls” for K’s “Erfolgs” (“the manifold that results [from pure acting]”). As
Fuchs notes, the words Gefühls and Erfolgs are very similar in German script. Hence Fuchs
treats this as a simple error of transcription on Krause’s part, which, of course, supports
the hypothesis that K is a fair copy based upon notes previously taken in class.
B This willing is nothing empirical within time (p. 146).
(145)
(146)
[308]

§ i4 3°9
object is determined by nothing except my own willing; every determi¬
nation of place is related to my willing, and this alone is what is absolute.
All cognizing and becoming within space depend upon my will.c If this
is so, then my will itself must be related to space. Space, however, is
something empirical (the form of intuition), which can exist only within
experience. The pure will, on the other hand, is supposed to precede
experience, and thus it is insufficient for an empirical account.0 {How
then does my pure will become empirical?}
(2) A concept of a goal is possible only by means of objective cognition;
but the latter presupposes that a concept of a goal is already present. {In
§ 13} we succeeded only partially^in our attempt to escape from this cir¬
cle: {We found that the pure will and the original concept of a goal are
one and the same.} A goal has certainly been postulated, but not a sen¬
sible one. How does the original goal {or the pure will} become some¬
thing sensible? I.e., how is it related to the sensible world? Were this
question raised in order to establish a theory of ethics, it could be for¬
mulated, “How does the ethical law obtain applicability?” (See Fichte’s
[System of] Ethical Theory.)2
We are here attempting to derive concepts of the world. These are
supposed to be derived from the pure will, but the pure will is of no use
for this purpose—precisely because it is pure.
{To be sure, we have already given a preliminary and partial answer to
our present question, an answer that depends upon the act of thinking.}
Thinking as such, as the mere act of thinking of something,3 is the in¬
termediate link between what is intelligible and the sensible world.
Therefore, it must be by means of thinking that the pure will becomes
sensible—not simply {(as in the preceding §)} in the sense that some- (147)
thing objective would have to be thought of along with and as contained
within the thought of the pure will, but also in the sense that the pure
will {itself} would become a {sensible,} empirical will simply as a result of
the fact that we think about it.
Anything that is thought of is subjected to the laws of thinking. We are
not [ordinarily] conscious of these laws, however; we become conscious
of them only by means of philosophy.
c I push a chair forward, and I observe this movement. What does this mean? Reply: The
chair comes to rest in this place, then in this one, etc. What then does this mean? What
determines the “this”? Reply: It is determined by nothing other than my own willing: the
chair is where I wanted to place it. In this example of determining place, therefore, the
determination of place is related to my willing, and all other positing in space first de¬
pends upon my willing (p. 146).
D The pure will, on the other hand, is not in space. Space first arises only insofar as
feeling and intuition are present, and my pure will is supposed to precede all these (p.
146).
2	Das System der Sittenlehre (SW, IV: /-365, and AA I, 5: 19-317). See especially Part II:
“Deduction of the Reality and Applicability of the Principle of Ethics,” SW, IV: 63-156.
3	“Das Denken als solches, als sich etwas Denken.”

310	§i4
The pure will has been thought of as an Idea. Do we think of the pure
will or not? If we did not think of it at all, then we could not speak of it.
If we do think of it, however, then it falls under the laws of thinking and
becomes something sensible.
In respect to its form, the pure will is viewed as a movement of tran¬
sition, as something determinate to which something determinable is
opposed, and it is in this way that the I becomes an individual. Through
154 this, however, the I is made sensible only in a formal sense. It might also
be the case that the pure will could become sensible and empirical
materialiter.4 For the moment, however, this is a mere presupposition.
Preliminary Inquiry
(1) Is the [entire] state of the I, prior to all feeling, intuiting, and think¬
ing, to be portrayed as what is actually a priori? Nothing actual would be
obtained in this way at all; this [prior state of the I] is an Idea (an aid to
understanding),5 something we have to presuppose in order to explain
what needs to be explained. The difficulty lies in the fact that we are
able to think only in accordance with the laws of thinking. Thus we.have
to abstract, as much as we are able, from all {the laws of thinking}, and
must assimilate this prior state of the I to the form of thinking only to
the extent that we simply must do so {in order to be able to think of any¬
thing at all—even in the most abstract possible manner}.
My will is originally determinate, and this determinacy of my will con¬
stitutes my true character as a rational being.E [Will is a relative concept
and is related to a hindrance, a force, etc., all of which must be thought
of whenever we think of the will.} This determinacy can be viewed in two
different ways: (1) It can be viewed as will (with respect to its form), and
hence, as a tendency or disposition, as something in consequence of
which something else is demanded. (2) It can be viewed as a being, as my
own structure or constitution,6 to the extent that I regard this [deter¬
minate] willing as the object of an intuition—though, to be sure, it is not
the object of any intuition we already possess; instead, it is the object of
an intuition to which we must nevertheless here refer in order to be able
to think of anything {at all}. Willing, by its very nature, involves a demand
that extends beyond the act of willing, though we cannot yet explain
what this is that lies beyond willing.
4	“in a material sense.”
5	“eine Hiilfslinie.”
E My will is originally determinate, and only this determinacy of “something”—which is called
“will” only subsequently, in contrast with my other powers—constitutes the true character
of my essence (p. 147).
6	“als Beschaffenheit meiner selbst.”

§ »4	311
{This is true of every possible type of willing, including empirical will¬
ing. For example, after deliberating for a while, I reach a decision to do
something or other. Thus I always move from what is indeterminate to
what is determinate; I demand something that is supposed to lie outside
of me. To the extent, however, that I make this demand, I myself become
something: namely, the subject who wills this particular thing. I thereby be¬
come constituted in a certain way.7 I was previously undetermined, but
now I am the subject who wills this or that. This is now my constitution,
my state.
In the case of pure willing, however, the difference that is implicit in
becoming is absent. I do not become anything by means of pure willing;
instead, I absolutely am.} Considered in the latter respect, this act of
willing determines my entire being and essence once and for all, for all
eternity. I am nothing but a subject who wills in a certain way, and my
being consists in nothing but willing in just this way. {My being and my
willing are one and the same, and nothing can be added to or sub-
stracted from this.} This constitutes the original reality {(the “root”)} of
the I. This is the result of all our inquiries: {only an act of willing,
indeed,} only the pure will, is capable of being the immediate object of
consciousness. {Consequently, this pure act of willing must possess orig¬
inal reality.}
We are unable to consider this pure act of willing as an act of willing,
however, for no object is present to which it could be related; {nor is
there any ideal activity for which this reality could exist, and thus} we are
also unable to regard it as a being, for no consciousness is present for
which it could exist. {Does this then mean that this pure act of willing is
impossible?}
Objection: Ideal and real activity are certainly united in the I; conse¬
quently, the act of willing can be related to the ideal activity. Reply: This
is impossible, because the ideal activity is governed by the law [of think-
'55 ing] according to which it can grasp wholes only bit by bit, or through
their parts; i.e., it is impossible because the finite intellect is only dis¬
cursive. But what we are concerned with here is my entire state or my
state as a whole, and thus it too can be grasped only bit by bit. The in¬
tellect’s acts of feeling, intuiting, and thinking are only movements of
transition from one state to another; yet a movement of transition is pos¬
sible only if the manifold that comes into being includes various ele¬
ments (the previously indicated feelings), each of which can be grasped
only all at once.F If [on the other hand] our [entire] state were to be
7	“ich bin dadurch auf eine gewipe Weise beschaffen.”
F Why then is there no consciousness of this pure act of willing?
Reply: Because the ideal activity is governed by the law according to which it grasps
things only bit by bit, or grasps only determinate parts, because the finite intellect can
think only discursively. Hence I cannot grasp my state as a whole by means of ideal activity,
(i48)

3!2	§14
grasped all at once, then no movement of transition would occur, and
therefore no whole would be grasped. {A discrete act of grasping of this
sort is called a “feeling,”} but what is our state as a whole? According to
what was just said, it is a synthesis of willing and being, a relationship of
the two, within which neither can be separated from the other. {It is a
being that is the result of an act of willing, and an act of willing that de¬
mands a being.}
When a single part [of this whole] is grasped and related to the will,
this signifies satisfaction; but, since this is only a single part, limitation is
signified as well. Consequently, causal power and limitation become in¬
separable; {they are united in the whole and in every part of the same}.
Insofar as causal power is here present, it [this single portion of the
whole] exists for us, for we can intuit ourselves only in the course of act¬
ing efficaciously; insofar as some limitation is here present,8 this be¬
comes something feelable, intuitable, and thinkable—a quantum.0 My
true being consists in the determinacy of my willing, and my entire state
is also determined by this determinacy; for time, as well as any process
occurring within time, comes into being only as a result of our thinking.
I do not undergo any development within time; I am finished and com¬
plete, all at once and forever. This entire being is grasped within time,
and only thereby does a process of development over time come into be¬
ing for thinking.H
{This would answer a question that has not been answered by any pre¬
vious philosopher: What is the origin of the content or material of feeling? (149)
Answer: This originates from intuition; intuition, however, already
presupposes this content.} Feeling is self-affection. In a feeling, some¬
thing is done to us; consequently, there must be something within us to
which this can be done, and this is our own acting. Our acting, however,
is nothing for us apart from limitation, just as there is no limitation
for this is able only to grasp various details about my state, i.e., to grasp it in bits and
pieces. This dismemberment is not a matter of my free choice; it is dictated by the laws of
my thinking and is a consequence of the movement of transition from one thing to an¬
other. On the other hand, this same movement of transition would admittedly also be im¬
possible if the various individual elements of this process could not somehow each be
grasped all at once. There must therefore be something fixed, and we have previously dis¬
covered this to be something indivisible within feeling: red is red (p. 148).
8	“wir können uns nur im Würken anschauen, dadurch daß es begrenzt ist.” Cp. H:
“durch Beschränktheit.”
G Through the exercise of causality, something comes into being/or us, for the only thing
we can intuit immediately is ourselves. Through limitation, something becomes feelable
and intuitable for us; in a word, it becomes a quantum, an object of our feeling (p. 148).
H My true being consists in the determinacy of willing. This constitutes my being in its
entirety. This is grasped in time, and, in this way, I myself come into being, even though I
already exist in advance. This whole is a single being, which is determined by an act of
willing, and this constitutes my state as a whole. But only parts of this whole can be and are
grasped; therefore, what is grasped is only something limited (p. 148).

§*4	3*3
apart from acting. {If one were to represent our consciousness as a con¬
tinuous line and were to continue dividing this line forever, one would
never find a single point in which acting (freedom) and limitation of act¬
ing were not combined.} Anything we can feel consists, {therefore, of our
own acting and this limitation}: it exists for us in consequence of acting,
and it is an object of feeling only because this acting is limited.1
{Consequently,} all of our consciousness commences with an interaction
between acting and limitation. Both exist together, and this is the object
of feeling. {Therefore, “I feel myself” means the same thing as “I am the
feeling subject.”}
156 One should not think of time in conjunction with this affection; in¬
stead, it is our state {as a whole, prior to all time}. I am originally de¬
termined. It [the I] is a being, and indeed, a limited being. Moreover, I
can grasp this being only to a limited extent. Doing and limitation are
found everywhere. {Later on, we will explain how any feeling at all arises
from this constant conjunction of acting and limitation.
Let us now turn from real to ideal activity.}
■ The power of feeling is ideal; it is the source of all intuiting and
thinking. All our thinking within time originates from the power of feel¬
ing. {Synthetic, discursive thinking originates in feeling, since we are un¬
able to grasp our state as a whole by means of feeling; for feeling is able
to grasp our state as a whole only bit by bit, and thus only the parts of
the latter exist for feeling.}
Remark: We spoke above of the original limitation from which the par¬
ticular feelings arise and referred to it as “our overall state.” We also
spoke of an alteration within this state. We now have a much more pre¬
cise understanding of all this.
{What then is it that is limited?}
The real activity {of the 1} is limited by our willing, by {our} individ¬
uality. We are able to extend our thoughts beyond this limit and can also
think of rational beings outside of ourselves, {and we thereby first de¬
termine ourselves through other rational beings}. The ideal activity is
limited [as well]: we are able to grasp our own state only gradually, and
indeed, in determinate bits. Thanks to the limitation of the ideal activity,
we become something for ourselves. Thanks to the limitation of the real
activity, we determine ourselves through reference to rational beings
outside of ourselves. When all this is assimilated to external intuition,
this provides us with the sensible world. The manifold within me and
the manifold outside of me are reciprocally related to one another.
Every single thing within me is determined by everything else within
me, {i.e., it is what everything else within me is not,} and vice versa;
1 An instance of acting exists for us only insofar as it is intuited as our own acting—as
possessing causal power; and, at the same time, it is an object of our feeling only insofar as it
is limited (p. 149).

Sl4 §*4
{similarly, I am what the other beings outside of me are not, and vice
versa}. But all this comes from [our own] absolute being1 and from the
absolute limitation of our ability to grasp this absolute being. With re¬
spect to reality, I am not everything; with respect to ideality, I am unable
to grasp what I am all at once.
(2) {How can a rational being become conscious of its own entire state as
a whole?
This can occur only by means of ideal activity, since the state of our (150)
real activity, [as determined by] pure willing, remains eternally un¬
changeable with respect to all our possible experience—for nothing new
can ever be added to nor can anything be subtracted from this state. We
will now turn to an examination of how the ideal activity can provide
one with a consciousness of one’s entire state.
This new presentation of the Wissenschaftslehre diverges from the pub¬
lished version in the way that it answers this question. Prompted by the
circumstances of the time, the primary aim of the earlier version was to
show that all our consciousness has its foundation in the eternally valid
laws of our thinking. In addition to this, however, this new presentation
also provides us with the intelligible world as a firm substrate for the em¬
pirical one.}
Now that what is actually real has been presented in isolation from ev¬
erything else, we must discuss the relationship of what is ideal to the
former, that is, to our own state.
An ideal activity directed at an object whose existence is already pre¬
supposed is called “an act of reflection.”K {How does this ideal activity of
reflection appear to us?}
(A) Reflection is unconditionally free to select {from this intelligible
primary matter9} the manifold to which it will direct itself. There is no
absolute reason why it chooses one manifold over another.
(I exist in accordance with my original being. This original being is
what is supposed to be reflected upon here. As a result of this act of re-
157 flection and in consequence of the laws governing the same, my own be¬
ing is transformed into something manifold {—and, in this respect, I am
not free, nor am I free in my act of grasping this manifold, inasmuch as
I can grasp it only in an atomic fashion, bit by bit}.)
The reflecting subject is the I; indeed, it is the ideal power of the I,
which is not determined by the previously described determination of
the real I. {The I is “something” and is nothing else whatsoever; thus it
is originally determinate, but only with respect to its real power. As an
J Everything, however, is determined by being (p. 149).
K An ideal activity of this sort, i.e., one that refers to and presupposes something intel¬
ligible in itself, is called “an act of reflection,” which has a firm object in the intelligible
world, or in the original state [of the I] (p. 150).
9	“aus jenem intelligiblen Grundstoffe.”

§i4	315
ideal power, on the other hand, the I is undetermined.} But it is the very
nature of I-hood to determine itself unconditionally,10 to be what is ab¬
solutely first (in every moment of reflection} and never to be anything
secondary {—for otherwise it would not be an I}. Consequently, this act
of reflection is absolutely free. This absolute freedom of reflection is it¬
self something supersensible. What is sensible first appears in conse¬
quence of the fact that the I is constrained in that it can reflect only
upon parts, indeed, only upon certain parts [of the manifold of feeling].
This is the point of union between the supersensible world and the sen¬
sible world. {I thereby pass from the intelligible to the sensible world and
unify both within one and the same consciousness.}
The determinacy produced by this act of reflection is a picture of my¬
self in miniature. There can be no I, however, without absolute freedom;
accordingly, absolute freedom must also be included within this picture.
Considered from another side, this {supersensible, absolute} freedom
of reflection is also empirical, and an empirical I is possible only by
means of such freedom. The essence of what is empirical lies in this
gradual, step-by-step process of grasping things individually and then
combining them. (This is what is sensible.) Freedom, on the other hand,
consists in this very process of grasping and combining. (This is what is
supersensible.) We here have the synthesis of freedom and empirical
sequence.11 Neither can exist without the other. What is intelligible,
{[i.e.,] freedom,} exists only insofar as it is thought of in conjunction with
this empirical sequence, in order to unify the manifold contained in this
sequence, {for what is intelligible exists for us only insofar as it is posited (151)
within this sequence; and conversely,} this sequence is impossible with¬
out freedom, since it first comes into being only by means of the free¬
dom of reflection, {for freedom contains within itself the foundation of
the sequence. Freedom must have as its object some sequence A, B, C, D,
E,	F, etc. I cannot be free at all unless I posit a series in this manner.
This also allows us to see what the previously mentioned “state of the
I as a whole” means, insofar as this is thought of as something actual.
This, however, is nothing but a thought; it is something we merely think
of within this sequence, in order to explain the same, and it would not
be possible for us to do this without freedom of reflection. This state [of
the I as a whole] is nothing in itself; instead, it is only something thought
of, something that exists for a finite, rational being.}
Freedom of reflection is {therefore} the true point of origin of con¬
sciousness.
(B) Within this free and absolutely highest act of reflection, I appear
to myself as the willing subject {(inasmuch as I can reflect anew upon
10	“sich schlechthin selbst zu bestimmen.”
11	“die Synthesis der Freiheit und der Empirie der Reihenfolge.”

3i6	§14
this free act of reflection, whereas all other acts of reflection presuppose
the latter)}. This act of reflection does not appear to me as such; instead,
it appears as will.
{This can be clarified by contrasting it with the previously stated
theorem:} We said above that an object of sensible perception must ap¬
pear to us as something present independently of our reflection, {for, in
the act of reflecting upon this object, I must think of myself as able ei¬
ther to engage in reflection or not to do so. I cannot think of myself in
this way, however, unless I have already engaged in reflection—albeit
without noticing it. This subject (i.e., the act of reflection) to which I at¬
tach the predicate “freedom” becomes a thing that is present for me.}
■	In our present case, the situation is just the reverse: the act of re¬
flection is here not posited as such, nor is it thought of as something
separate from its object, {for the object is itself a part of the state of the
pure will; reflecting and willing are inseparably united: the object is the
will and coincides with the act of reflection}. Consequently, all that ap¬
pears in this case is the object, and moreover, it appears as part of my
own state, and thus as a part of my pure act of willing. Accordingly, what
158	appears is a will and nothing else. Hence I do discover a pure act of will¬
ing, but this is now completely identical with the empirical act of willing
just described.L
■	Result: Taken in itself, that is, within the context of a completely
transcendental account of consciousness, this means that I do not will
within time and that my will is nothing empirical. Yet I do indeed reflect
within time upon my pure will, with respect to the sequence {of the
manifold} contained within this pure will, and this act of reflection oc¬
curs with absolute freedom. This act of reflection itself becomes for me
an act of empirical willing within time. This freedom of reflection12 is
precisely what we call “free will” or “freedom of choice,”13 {and this is
the act of empirical willing that was described in the preceding §}.
■	It, {the pure act of willing,} is itself something produced through
{the laws of} thinking, {and it arises for me only as a result of my own
thinking. It is nothing but a certain way of looking at things. One cannot
say, “I am engaged in a certain act of willing ‘in itself’”;14 instead,
thought, reflection, and willing are one and the same.} Nevertheless,
the thought involved is a necessary one. For this reason, one must not
interpret this act of free reflection as an illusion; nor should one want to
go beyond it, for one cannot go beyond the laws of thinking.
LThe will is not something independent of the I; consequently, all that presents itself to
me is a free act of willing. This is an act of empirical willing, or the free act of reflection
discussed above (p. 151).
12	Reading, with H, “diese Freiyheitder Reflexion” for K’s “Jene freie Reflexion” (“this
free act of reflection”).
13	“Freiheit der Willkiihr, auch Freiheit der Wahl.”
14	“ich will an sich so.” That is, one cannot claim that what is involved in an act of willing
is the will “in itself.”

§14	3*7
(C)	All this, {that the act of reflection appears as an act of willing,} is
true only to the extent to which the entire ideal activity becomes con¬
tracted and directed upon a single, originalM object of reflection.15 Con¬
sciousness is possible only as a result of such an act of contraction.
{Actually, we have already discovered this in our description of the
will and of what distinguishes willing from deliberating and wishing.
Only insofar as my ideal activity or my act of reflection is contracted
and directed upon a single point or upon a single part of the original act
of willing does reflection appear to me as will.}
Does it follow from this that it is also possible that the ideal activity
might not be focused upon a single point {and thus that it might simply
flutter here and there}? Yes indeed! Reflection is not only free to choose
what it shall be directed upon, it is also free to choose whether to reflect
at all. {Therefore, it is also free to come to a rest upon an object of re¬
flection and not to reflect any further.} This freedom, however, is pos¬
sible only if an act of reflection has already occurred within time. {We
will say more below about this power of abstraction.} Wishing and de¬
liberating are possible only insofar as something has already been willed.
Consciousness comes into being with an act of willing.
{We have said the following: In empirical consciousness things are
grasped separately and in isolation from one another; they are dis¬
persed and occur within time. Such empirical consciousness is nothing
other than an act of reflection, an act of thinking. The object of this act,
however, is something that is simply “there,” just as a rational being as
such is simply present. This object is an act of willing; and this original
object, which appears as an act of willing, coincides with the act of will¬
ing only because it is possible for the ideal activity to come to a rest and
to be contracted and directed upon a single point.
What have we achieved in this way?} Our question was: How is an em¬
pirical act of willing possible? A partial answer to this question is as fol¬
lows: Empirical willing becomes possible through an act of reflecting
separately or bit by bit upon individual parts of [pure] willing.N Our en¬
tire question {actually} concerns the {possibility} that the will could be
determined by an empirical object.16 Consequently, our question has not
yet been entirely answered.
M possible (p. 152).
15	“in wieferen die ganze ideale Thätigkeit auf einen ursprünglichen REFLEXiONSgegend-
stand Contrahirt wird.”
N Our question was, How is an act of willing within time possible? This question was
partially answered by deriving an individual act of willing from our original act of willing
as a whole—[though only] insofar as one reflects upon this individual act of willing (p.
!52)-
16	“Unsere ganze Frage war, nach der empirischen Bestimmtheit des Willens durch ein
Object.” More literally: “Our whole question concerned the empirical determinacy of the
will by an object.” The translation is guided by the parallel passage in H: “Denn unsere
ganze Frage war eigentlich nach der Möglichkeit der Bestimmtheit des Willens durch ein em¬
pirisches Object?”
(152)

318	§14
{Anyone who believes that this is a simple question that can be an¬
swered [simply] by saying that “our pure willing becomes empirical in¬
sofar as I grasp individual parts of the same by means of reflection” fails
to understand the full scope of this question.
As a general rule, a comprehensive and well-grounded philosophy ad¬
dresses itself less to people’s doubts than to their all-too-many—and all-
too-lightly-held—beliefs. Such a philosophy concerns itself with the fact
that people assume that far too many things that have long remained
unproved and incorrect are already settled.}
(3)	The act of willing that is reflected upon, or {(what is the same thing)}
the act of reflection that was described above as appearing as an act of
willing, is only one portion of the pure act of willing. Accordingly, this
portion should be distinguished from all the other possible acts of will¬
ing; and only if it has been distinguished in this way can it become, for
reflection, a determinate act of willing.
159	A particular act of willing is distinguished from other acts of willing by
its object, since all willing (i.e., willing qua willing) has the same form.
Thus the postulated act of reflection upon the pure will is not possible
without some cognizance of objects.0 Where do we obtain such cogni¬
tion? This is simply another version of our previous question concerning
the origin of our concept of a goal. I cannot will at all unless I will some
particular object.
(We who are already conscious can distinguish between various acts of
willing, for we already have cognizance of various objects. What con¬
cerns us at this point in our inquiry, however, is the very origin of all
consciousness.1*
■ {Concerning this point, one should} compare {what is said here with
what is contained in the instructor’s} Natural Right.17 {Here, however, we
have to dig even deeper and must investigate the underlying principles,
which were only presupposed in this book.})
Solution to the difficulties now facing us:
(A) According to section 1 of this §, some being is already connected
{originally} with the will as such. {The pure will is to be regarded as the
0 Consequently, [even] in the case of the pure will, some cognition of objects must al¬
ready be present in order for us to be able to grasp this pure will and its parts (p. 153).
p We who are engaged in philosophical inquiry certainly know how various acts of will¬
ing are distinguished, because we already have various acquaintances with objects. We have
often made such distinctions [between acts of willing], because we are already acquainted
with [objects] 1, 2, 3, 4, etc. Accordingly, experience and consciousness are already pre¬
supposed.
The case of the I is different. Are we not here still standing at the threshold of any con¬
sciousness at all? (p. 153).
17 Grundlage des Naturrechts (SW, III: 1-385 = A A I, 3: 311—460, and A A I, 4: 4—165).
See especially Part I, “Deduction of the Concept of Right,” SW, III: 17-56.
(153)

§ 14	3*9
way I am constituted, my state as a whole. I will; therefore, I am a willing
subject.} Consequently, reflection upon a being (i.e., upon an object) is
also connected with reflection upon the will. {Thus being and willing
are connected through an object.} Being and willing are the same thing,
merely viewed from two different sides and related to two different pow¬
ers of the mind.18 (“I will X”: to this extent my thoughts are directed at
something outside of me. “/ will”: to this extent my thoughts are di¬
rected upon myself.) {Accordingly, the act of willing is itself an object; an
object is already contained within an act of willing.
What then is the difference between reflecting upon willing and re¬
flecting upon being?}
Willing (the sort of willing described above, in sect. [2,] B, as “empir¬
ical willing”) is the object of nothing but a pure act of thinking, and this
is the sole act of pure thinking that occurs within actual consciousness.
This unique act of pure thinking is identical to the act of empirical will-
ing.Q Being is the object of an intuition, and this intuition is also accom¬
panied by an act of thinking, for there can be no intuition without a
concept. The thinking that accompanies an intuition is not an act of
pure thinking, however; it is an act of objective thinking; {it is directed at (154)
an object}. Thinking and intuition are necessarily united, and this is the
source of the union of thinking and willing within the I. Therefore, be¬
ing and willing are necessarily connected.
{All idealism is based upon this. This is its central point.
Pure thinking and intuiting are united, and, as we have already seen,
this alone is the origin of the union of willing and being.
Everyone will readily admit that I can also view my own will as [part
of| my constitution. Nevertheless, being and willing remain two differ¬
ent things, depending upon which power of the mind is related to one
and the same X (= willing and being). If X is merely thought of, then it is
a will; if, on the other hand, it is intuited, then it is an object—a being.
But thinking and intuiting are necessarily connected with each other;
consequently, willing and being are also connected with each other. This
law is the source of all reality for us—as well as the source of the objec¬
tive world.
That within us to which the representation of what is objective must
be connected is an act of willing. A being must also be connected with
this act of willing, however, because the latter is grasped by two different
powers of the mind: thinking and intuiting. If it is grasped by thinking,
then it becomes an act of willing. If it is grasped by intuiting, then it
18	“Gemüthskräfte.”
Q An act of pure thinking is directed at the pure act of willing; empirical willing itself is
this act of pure thinking, which is the only kind of pure thinking that occurs in the proof19
(P- 154)-
19	“im Beweiß.” This appears to be an erroneous transcription of “im Bewußtsein” (“in
consciousness”).

320	§ 14
becomes a being. Through the former, there arises for us an objective
view of ourselves. Through the latter, there arises an objective world.
Through this law,20 which states that neither thinking nor intuiting
could exist at all without the other, everything becomes attached to our
willing.
But what kind of being is connected with an act of willing?}
Our own being, as well as that of the world, originates in intuition.
{According to sect. 1, above,} this being (that is connected with willing},
which is here the object of reflection, is pure willing itself; more specif¬
ically, it is the latter insofar as it is intuited. {It is and remains the same
and is merely looked at differently.
Insofar as the portion of the pure will that is grasped (i.e., the em¬
pirical will) is intuited, and not merely thought of, an empirical being is
also connected with it.
But what kind of intuition are we talking about here?}
■ What we are discussing here is quite obviously an outer intuition;
{for no object is given to us through inner intuition. Inner intuition only
makes it possible to connect what is intelligible with objects; i.e., it
merely makes it possible to order it and to assimilate it to the form of
intuition,} for time—the form of inner intuition—is only the form of
{the empirical intuition of} what is intelligible. {But time is not the form
of the intuition of objects. Objects occur within time only to the extent
that freedom is introduced into the world of objects, i.e., only to the ex¬
tent that the objective world appears as organized. Insofar as it merely
accords with the form of [outer] intuition, the world is passive and dead;
when freedom is introduced into this world, it becomes an expression
and a presentation of freedom.
The representative of freedom in the sensible world is the body, which
appears as something given, something that conditions all our effica¬
cious acting and all our consciousness. This is why we said above that the
pure will appears as something given: because I discover my own body
as something given to me.}
160	■ The form of outer intuition is space, and the object of such an in¬
tuition is necessarily matter in space. Consequently, the being we are
here discussing would also be matter in space, and an intuition of ma¬
terial being in space would necessarily be connected with the act of re¬
flecting upon {or thinking about} the will, {though we do not know that
this being is produced by intuition}.
Pure willing is present in advance of all empirical willing, and what we
intuit, {that is, being as matter in space,} is pure willing itself, which is
observed {only} under the form of sensible intuition. A being that is de¬
termined by pure willing, that is matter in space, and that is an expres-
20	Reading “Durch dieses Gesetz” for H’s “An dieses Gesetz,” which makes little sense in
this context.
O55)

§14	321
sion of the original energy of our willing itself: such a being is our own
body, insofar as it is an instrument. Our willing within time is already
assimilated to the form of thinking. {Our body is the enduring presen¬
tation of our willing within the material world.
This being, which is the pure will as intuited, is not a product of my
empirical willing; it is not an alteration in my state. Instead, insofar as
the empirical will is under the sway of the power of free choice, then
what is within our control is the result of an original act of willing, which
precedes all empirical willing.}
■	The nature of our empirical willing is such, however, that something
is supposed to come into existence immediately as a result of it. (E.g., I
can immediately move my hand or my foot simply by willing to do so.)
My empirical will, however, is nothing but a particular way of thinking
about my pure will; consequently, my hand and my foot must come un¬
der the control of my pure will, and this means that they are my pure
will itself, in the form of outer intuition, as matter in spaceR
{This was described in the treatise on morality as the “first point of our (156)
efficacious acting within the sensible world.”22}
■	The most precise empirical concept of the body is as follows: My
body (insofar as it is articulated) is what I am able to control simply by
my power of free choice, {where I need do no more than will. Note: I
have control over my body only insofar as it is articulated, not as an or¬
ganic system.}. The transcendental concept of the body is as follows: My
body is my original willing, assimilated to the form of outer intuition.
“My body and I”—“my mind and I”: these expressions mean the same
thing. Insofar as I intuit myself, I am my body. Insofar as I think of my¬
self, I am my mind. But neither of these can exist without the other, and
this constitutes the union of the mind with the body.s
Result: {In order to explain consciousness, there must therefore be an
act of reflection, and the object of this act of reflection is the pure will.}
An intuition of an object (= my body) is connected with the act of re¬
flection upon the pure will. {We intuit our original energy, determina¬
tion, or pure will as our body; i.e., the willing subject is intuited as matter
R Our empirical will is so constituted that something has to exist outside of it, in addition
to this will itself. If, for example, I will to see, I must have an eye. My eye is controlled by
my power of free choice; i.e., it is subject to my empirical will. My empirical will itself,
however, is nothing but an appearance, a way of thinking about pure willing; consequently,
it must be through the pure will that I control my eye as well. What does this mean?
My eye is nothing in itself; instead, it is my pure will itself, as it appears under the form
of outer intuition in space21 (p. 155).
21	“nur als Form der aussern Anschauung im Raume.”
22	See Das System der Sittenlehre, § 6 (SW, IV: 98).
s “I”—“my body”—‘‘my mind”: these all mean and assert the same thing. I am my body
and my mind: all are one. I am my body when I intuit myself; I am [my] mind when I think
of myself. But I cannot do one without also doing the other; and for this reason I ascribe
both to myself. They are distinguished merely as different aspects (p. 156).

322	§ 14
in the sensible world.} All sensible perception begins with the perception
of my body.
(B) Returning to our main inquiry, we discover that we have still not
solved the problem confronting us. Our body is the original presenta¬
tion7^ of our entire original act of willing, but we are able to reflect upon
it only bit by bit. How is this possible? Through my pure act of willing,
161	my being is given to me all at once, but I am able to reflect upon it only
bit by bit. If I could reflect all at once upon my entire will, this act of
reflection would be accompanied by a reflection upon my body as a
whole; since I cannot accomplish the former, however, then neither can
I accomplish the latter. {Therefore, I also have no intuition of my entire
body, because I cannot reflect upon my pure act of willing as a whole.
Nor have we yet shown how the indicated act of reflecting and thinking
bit by bit, an act directed only at a part [of the whole], is possible. Hence
we must penetrate even deeper—and indeed, quite abstractly.}
■ Here we face the following difficulty: I am free when I engage in an
act of reflection; but my act of reflection is an act of wrenching some¬
thing out of the mass [of what is determinable], and thus it is an act of
limiting.0 A conscious act of limiting is not possible, however, unless I
am acquainted with something that is assumed to lie beyond the limits23
in question. This, however, is not possible, and thus reflection is not pos¬
sible either. This difficulty could be avoided only if the limitation in
question were one that would exist without my first having had to pro¬
duce it through an act of reflection. It would have to be something that
is originally discovered, an original feeling.
{My pure will is a whole, and I am free to reflect upon any part of this (157)
whole I want. As a result, time comes into being for me, and, as a result
of this, something empirical within space comes into being for me; and
only thereby does any consciousness at all come into being.
But how does what is limited—e.g., parts X, Y, Z, etc.—become
present within my pure will? Do I introduce this limitation by means of
my own free act of reflection? Certainly not, for this would presuppose
some prior experience: I would have to possess in advance the concepts
of X, Y, Z, etc. Here, however, we are standing at and discussing the or¬
igin of the I’s consciousness. Consequently, parts X, Y, and Z must al¬
ready be found within the pure will and must be contained therein.
Accordingly, we have to indicate some original limitation within the pure
will itself.
TOur body is the sensible presentation [ . . . ] (p. 156).
u I am free when I engage in reflection. But my act of reflecting is at the same time
limited: I cannot reflect upon everything [at once], but only bit by bit (p. 156).
23	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “Grenzen” for K’s “Grenze.”

§ 14	3^3
Idealism and dogmatism thus approach each other at this point.}
Remark: Until the previous §, our path led continually upward, [from
what is sensible] to what is intelligible. Our present path leads in the op¬
posite direction. {Here we will continue further along our descending
path. We have already descended from thinking to intuiting; now we will
descend to feeling.}
We have seen that thinking cannot occur without intuition. What we
have to show now is that {the original limitation of the pure will is caused
by a feeling and that} intuition could not occur without feeling. At every
point in our inquiry we have encountered something originally present.
In the case of the {original} act of thinking, this was the pure act of will¬
ing; in the case of intuition, what we found to be originally present was
the material [of intuition]. Is something originally present in the case of
feeling as well?
We said above that I am originally determinate; some alteration has to
occur within the system of sensibility. Here is the question: What is the
origin of this alteration ?v {An answer is possible only by means of the
following antithesis:}
The alteration in question cannot be produced by me, for I am able to
produce an alteration only in accordance with a concept of the same—
which I do not possess in this case. Consequently, this alteration would
have to have been externally produced. In that case, however, it would
not exist for me at all; it would, {like the dogmatist’s “thing,”} be a thing
in itself, {in which case it would exist only for another intellect}. There¬
fore, the alteration in question would have to be something I produced
and something I did not produce, and it would have to be both at once.
{But how can these coexist?} To the extent that this is something exter¬
nally produced, limitation would be present. To the extent that this is
something I produce, activity would be involved. The task, accordingly,
would be to unite limitation and activity.
An alteration is nothing in itself. It is something that arises only for
discursive thinking.w {Alteration is nothing but an affection mediated
through the concept of time;} my pure being does not undergo any al¬
teration whatsoever. Nevertheless, the concept of alteration is present
within consciousness, and, to this extent, time arises as well.
162	Our question, therefore, is as follows: How does the concept of alter¬
ation originate prior to any freedom of abstraction? {To be sure, I can (158)
subsequently obtain this concept [by means of abstraction], but how can
it be present here in advance of all knowing and at the very beginning of
v We spoke above about the state of the I as a whole. But this is something that could not
be grasped without an alteration in this whole system. What then is the origin of this al¬
teration? (p. 157).
w It is something that arises only by means of discursive thinking (p. 157).

324	§ 14
all consciousness? Where does it come from? How are we able to pre¬
suppose and to think in advance of this concept of alteration, which, in
itself, is certainly nothing?}
(a) “I perceive a determinate state of myself” {(It does not matter here
whether this is an act of willing or a being, something sensible or some¬
thing intelligible. In short, we are here considering this determinate
state in its highest universality. I perceive it:} this obviously means that I
relate this determinate state to my state as a whole, i.e., to the entire
possible system of my being. {Perception is made possible only by op¬
posing and relating a particular state to my state as a whole—as we il¬
lustrated above with the example of wine tasting.24} All multiplicity in
several moments of time is thus based upon something opposed to it, {my
entire state} at a single moment.
{For example: In moment A, I have a certain perception. Then I per¬
ceive something else in moments B, C, and D. A manifold or a multi¬
plicity in several moments is not perceptible at all, however, unless, in
moment A, something posited in opposition to this manifold lies at the
basis of the same.}
((3) This system of my being {necessarily} contains within itself the sub¬
strate of what is here perceived separately and in a determinate manner,
and this substrate is {therefore} posited along with the system as a whole.
This same substrate X is thus opposed and related to itself, and thus it is
posited in several different aspects.
The best example of this is provided by my own body (here considered
only in terms of its articulated parts). I do not have any total feeling of
my body. I feel only my individual limbs, and I first obtain a concept of
my body as a whole by relating these to each other. I perceive [my body]
only when some alteration occurs; I feel [my body] only when I alter one
part in relation to the whole.x
I can perceive my hand only insofar as I move it to a different position
in relation to the whole. Movement, however, is possible only in relation
to a state of repose. Repose is the terminus a quo. When I move my hand,
I must think of it as having been lying still. In this example, my hand
would be the substrate, and repose and movement would be the two dif¬
ferent—albeit inseparably connected—aspects of the same.
(y) What is the origin of these different aspects of a single substrate X?
A transcendental philosophy must show how both these aspects arise
{from the original determinacy of the I and} from the laws of thinking. (159)
24	See above, § 6, sect. 6.
x I obtain a concept of the whole only by means of the concept of the individual mem¬
bers, i.e., by thereby relating these individual members to the whole. For example, I per¬
ceive my hand only insofar as it alters or moves. I first feel the individual parts [of my
body] only insofar as they are altered in relation to my body as a whole, i.e., [only through
their] movement (p. 158).

§ M 325
Thus the question remains, What is the origin of this double aspect of X,
which is based upon the laws of thinking?
(6)	This double aspect is {necessarily} an original [feature of substrate
X] and not an acquired one, {one that is introduced within time}. Noth¬
ing, however, is original except the pure will. Consequently, the pure will
itself must possess a double aspect, and we have already indicated some¬
thing of this sort above. Willing (i.e., force or energy) and limitation are
both contained within the pure will, {and, according to the preceding §,
the pure will is thereby determined}. If this double aspect of the pure
will is what provides us with the foundation for a reflection upon the
determinate state [of the I], then it follows that willing and limitation
must be {absolutely synthetically} united within this act of reflection. It
163 must be possible—in one and the same moment—to intuit one and the
same [substrate] X of my state as both existing and not existing;25 i.e., it
must possible to intuit it as totally opposed to itself, and indeed, in such
a way that neither of its opposed aspects would be possible apart from
the other.
{We wish to posit some possible act of willing. In order to do this, I
must regard myself as an empirical act of willing—i.e., as a subject able
to posit itself as willing or as not willing. Expressed in terms of an intu¬
ition, I must posit an intuition that both exists and does not exist. For
example, the movement of my hand is nothing apart from a state of re¬
pose. Movement is always related to repose. Movement and repose, how¬
ever, are opposites, posited in opposition to each other. In order to be
able to intuit my hand as having moved, I must at the same time think
of it as in a state of repose; indeed, I must do both in one and the same
moment. “Existing” and “not existing” are always only two different as¬
pects of one and the same thing.}
(e) We are here dealing with the purely formal side of the question
concerning the possibility of the object of reflection (i.e., we are con¬
cerned with it as an act of reflection as such or in general, {as originally
preceding all other acts of reflection}).
One can reflect only upon something limited. But what is the origin of
this limited object of reflection? The problem is to understand how26 a
manifold {or a limitation} could be contained within the original object
of reflection, i.e., within the pure will. We have a precise answer to this
question: Limitation too must be originally present, and it is just as orig¬
inal as the pure will itself. The will is related to this [original] limitation
in multiple ways; and, within this relationship, the will itself becomes
something manifold.
25	“als seiend und nicht seiend.”
26	Reading, with H, “wie” for K’s “wo” (“where”).

3^6	§ 14
The essence of reflection is nothing more than this relation to this
synthesis,27 which can occur or not occur, and which can occur in various
different ways.Y Thus it now becomes possible for us to understand the
previously stated claim that I am free to reflect upon whatever I want
within the manifold. {This is to be explained as follows: I am free to re¬
late my will to the original limitation in any way that I want.} Through
this act of reflection, the will is related to its [own original] limitation in
a variety of different ways, and a manifold of objects comes into being
for reflection. Reflection {considered as something original} is a purely
synthetic power. {It is not merely passive, but is active as well; thus it is
composed of both activity and passivity.}
This proposition is crucial for our entire enterprise. {All experience, (160)
all consciousness,} every act of empirical willing, thinking, etc., is based
upon this synthesis of pure willing and original limitation, {a synthesis
that occurs by means of reflection}. Both {the pure will and the original
limitation} are given to empirical consciousness and are present prior to
all consciousness. The synthesis {or the relation of the two} is not orig¬
inal, however, but depends upon a {free} act of reflection.
{Accordingly, this act of reflection is the original source of all empir¬
ical consciousness.
This is why Kant made it the chief task of philosophy to answer the
question, “How is synthesis possible?”28—for all empirical consciousness
consists in the synthesis of pure will and limitation.}
(£) Consciousness is possible only to the extent that it is possible for me
to view myself in several different ways or under several different as¬
pects. {But how is it possible for me to observe myself under several dif¬
ferent aspects? How is this condition for the possibility of consciousness
itself possible?} What we said above in section 6—that I must posit my¬
self, under the same aspect, as existing and as not existing, {as able to do
something and as unable to do it}—must be {simply} true; for this is a
condition for the possibility of consciousness.
My pure act of willing is presented in an intuitable form in my body.
My body is sensible force, which would have to be what can be viewed29
164 in various ways. I would have to be able to will the same X that, under
another aspect, I would be unable to will; or (considered synthetically,
{that is, as something that has been made sensible}) I would have to be
27	“Die Sache der Reflexion ist lediglich diese Beziehung auf diese Synthesis.” In com¬
parison with the corresponding passage in H (see the following note), the text of K ap¬
pears at this point to be seriously adumbrated.
Y The will is related to this [original] limitation; and, in relation to this state of limita¬
tion, the will itself becomes something manifold—reflection consists in this relation.
What then is dependent upon reflection?
Nothing but this relation of the limitation to the pure will, or this synthesis, which can
occur or not occur, and which can occur in this way or that (p. 159).
28	See the Introduction to the second edition of the Critique of Pure Reason (KRV, B19).
29	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “ansehen” for K’s “anschauen.”

§ 14	327
able to do the same thing = X that, under another aspect, I would be
unable to do. Therefore, {the entire instrument,} my entire sensible force
{—my organ, my body—} must be capable of being viewed in two dif¬
ferent ways. This would give us an inner and an outer organ, which
would have to be related to each other in such a way that what would
happen with the one would be something that could not happen with
the other, {so that the inner organ would be free and the outer organ
would be limited}.
{For example,} everything I perceive, all objects, are nothing more
than something that hinders my own {outer} efficacy; but only if my ef¬
ficacy is present for me can I know that something is hindering it. {Every
object in space hinders my outer efficacy, that is, my ability to place an¬
other object in this same space. But how do I have any knowledge of
what is not present for me? How do I know what is canceled [by the
present object]? This certainly does not lie within my consciousness [of
the external object]. Consequently, the very efficacy that is hindered
must, at the same time, be both possible for me and present for me.} My
own efficacy is not present for me through my outer organ; instead, it is
copied by the inner one.2 (I cannot hear anything unless I make an in¬
ternal copy of the sound.)
This is the basis of all perception. {Limitation and willing (or an in¬
stance of free acting) are united in every perception. This is true of orig¬
inal reflection as well. (Such reflection deserves to be called “original” (161)
for two reasons: in part, because consciousness begins with this act of
reflection, which has to be presupposed as temporally preceding all
other acts of reflection; and, in part, because of its content, inasmuch as
this is something new, something that was previously still unknown and
that has not arisen through abstraction or reproduction.)}
How does this original act of reflection, which everything else presup¬
poses, occur? Answer: I reflect upon my own act of willing. This appears
to me as a “doing,”30 and my act of willing is both possible and not pos¬
sible: it is inwardly possible, but outwardly impossible. “Inwardly” and
“outwardly” refer here to my inner and outer organs, which, in turn, are
nothing but my own force or energy, viewed under two different aspects.
{These then are the two aspects of our willing: viewed from one side, it
appears as our own energy; viewed from the other, it appears as our lim¬
itation—thanks to our body: for our body is nothing but an entity,31 or
a pure act of willing that is sensibly intuited, and indeed, intuited in a
twofold manner.
z My efficacy is limited only for the outer organ; it corresponds to my inner organ—by
virtue of the reciprocal interaction of both [efficacy and the inner organ] (p. 160).
30	“dieß erscheint mir als Thun.”
31	“ein Wesen.”

3^8	§ 14
Thus my own willing appears to me as an inner doing: I see an object;
i.e., I describe within myself its shape, its surface area, etc. I hear
sounds; i.e., I copy them within me—hence there is an inner doing.}
■	Willing and doing are one and the same. As a mere object of
thought, this is an act of willing; as a mere object of intuition, it is a “do¬
ing.” Here we obtain the answer to the question, How is our causal
power, our efficacy in the sensible world, possible?
{This is a question no one has yet answered. To be sure, Kant an¬
swered it, but his answer was not explicitly formulated as such; it is only
implicit in his argument.
One ordinarily says, “I act efficaciously in the manner in which it ap¬
pears to me that I do.” This, however, is a transcendent answer to our
question, and we would thereby obtain a “body in itself.” But, like the
sensible world as a whole, our body is certainly nothing in itself; instead,
it is a mere appearance. It is what is intelligible, construed in accordance
with the laws of thinking and intuition.
■	Our answer is as follows:} [Taken together,] willing and acting
efficaciously32 are no more than willing [taken by itself].AA The percep¬
tion of our own efficacy is nothing more than the perception of our pure
will, insofar as the latter has become an object of thought.
All our efficacious acting is nothing but an act of thinking. The only
thing we are able to do freely is to think, for we are nothing other than
intellects.
I cannot will anything that does not come into being. Anything I am
able to do but do not actually accomplish is something I do not will;33 it
is a mere, impotent wish.
Kant too has answered the question concerning how our efficacy is
possible: “The power of desire is the power to become the cause of an
object by means of a concept.”34 But he does not explain the origin of
this “power of desire.”
165 Your instructor employs the term “desiring” in a different sense
and opposes it to willing, as the merely ideal act of thinking of
willing. Kant, in contrast, employs the concept of the power of desire
to explain the genesis of both the act of willing and the power of free
choice.35
32	“Wollen und Wirken.”
AA Efficacious acting is nothing whatsoever other than willing (p. 161).
33	“Ich kann nicht wollen, was nicht wird; alles was ich nicht kann und nicht wirklich
thue, will ich nicht.” Following Fuchs’s suggestion, the translation omits the italicized nicht
(which is not italicized in the MS) from this passage.
34	See the note on this subject in the Preface to the Critique of Practical Reason (KGS, V:
9n)-
35	“Bei Kant ist das Begehrungsvermogen der genetische Begriff des Wollens und der
Willkuhr.”

§ 14	329
(4)	{We still have another question to answer.} As a reflecting subject, I
construct an internal description36 of what I am unable to accomplish
externally; this is how perception first arises for me: {that is, I act
internally}. How do I obtain this cognition of my own inability to do
something? {Must I know in advance that I cannot do something?
Answer:} I know this through a feeling. But what then is the origin of this
feeling? A feeling is an act of affecting myself, but not within time.BB
Here there are not things present, things which could exercise a certain
effect at one moment and then a different effect at some other moment.
This would be a transcendent [explanation of feeling]. Feeling as such,
or the power of feeling, is the way in which the {original} limitation of
our will is immediately related to reflection {or to the ideal activity}. The
will is originally limited; this is how it becomes {something—} a will. Yet (162)
this limitation does not [yet] exist for the I, nor does the I itself exist for
itself; the whole is [no more than] an Idea,37 {if it is not reflected upon,
if it is not posited}.cc
■ Now, however, reflection—an absolutely free act of reflection—
comes upon the scene and strives to reflect upon the will in its totality,
i.e., under both the previously indicated aspects. {It cannot do this} how¬
ever; it can describe this [totality of the will] only under one of its two
aspects, namely, through that of the inner organ.38 {Through the outer
organ, therefore,} reflection is what is limited in time, and feeling is the
immediate expression of this limitation. To the extent that I am an em¬
pirical being, I feel. The power of reflection, which is limited within
time, {but is not originally limited,} is what can only be empirical. The
will is what is originally limited; thus it follows that reflection upon the
will would have to be limited,DD {and a feeling arises through this rela¬
tion of reflection [to the will].
From this it follows that:}
There can be no reflection apart from feeling, and vice versa; for it is
{only} by means of reflection39 that the I subjects something to limita¬
tion. {Therefore, if no act of reflection occurred, then neither would any
36	“beschreibe innerlich.”
BB We said above that feeling is an affection of ourselves within time (p. 161).
37	“Diese Beschränktheit aber ist nicht für das Ich, and das Ich ist nicht für sich, das
ganze Idee.”
cc Even the I is nothing if it is not reflected upon, if it is not posited (p. 162).
38	“Dieß kann sie aber nur in der einen Rücksicht, im inneren Organ beschreiben.”
DD I feel; in other words, the feeling subject, which is surrendered to feeling, is the
power of reflection. The power of reflection is limited, but its limitation is not an original
one; instead, what is originally limited is the will. Reflecting, therefore, is limited only in
the act of reflection upon the will (p. 162).
39	Reading, with H, “lediglich durch das reflectiren” for K’s “durch das Gefühl”
(“through feeling”), an assertion that at least appears to conflict with everything else
Fichte has been saying in this section, as well as with the text of H.

330	§ 14
limitation exist for me, nor, consequently, would any feeling exist. More¬
over, if there were no feeling, there would be no limitation; and there¬
fore there would be no partial or bit-by-bit grasping of the pure will—
i.e., no act of reflection.}
This principle was presented above in a different sense—in the con¬
text of the relationship of dependence. Here we encounter it in the con¬
text of the relationship of reciprocal interaction.40 {Above, one could
have believed that something could well be felt in the absence of any act
of reflection.}
We have now succeeded in explaining and deriving feeling itself and
have, once again, postulated feeling as a condition for the possibility of
consciousness. Feeling might thus be said to be something primary and
inexplicable; this, however, might provide an occasion for dogmatism.EE
For one could certainly extend one’s thoughts beyond this limit [repre¬
sented by feeling], and then one might want to explain feeling with ref-
166	erence to things—which are supposed to affect feeling. In this way, the
I itself is41 transformed into a thing. {The Critical idealist, however, is
not allowed to remain at this point. He must explain empirical con¬
sciousness. His own thinking extends beyond empirical consciousness;
he may and must pass into the realm of what is intelligible. At this point,
however, all further progress comes to an end. This is a consequence of
the nature of his reason itself, for what is intelligible is posited in ab¬
straction from all the laws of thinking. Reason has here arrived at its
outermost limit.}
§ 14
The pure will is the immediate object of all consciousness and of all
reflection (§ 13). Reflection, however, is discursive; consequently, the
pure will must be a manifold. It is not originally manifold, but first be¬
comes so by being related to its own {original} limitation, by means of (163)
which it {first} becomes a will.FF This relation of the pure will to its own
limitation occurs within the act of reflection itself, which is absolutely
free; and the freedom and entire essence of this act of reflection consist
precisely in this act of relating42 {the pure will to the original limitation}.
40	“Wechselwirkung.”
EE With this, our explanation and derivation of feeling would be complete, and, at the
same time, we would have provided our entire structure with a deeper underpinning.
Above, feeling was simply postulated as an inexplicable starting point—though it is nev¬
ertheless supposed to be present within empirical consciousness. But it is dogmatic to pro¬
ceed in this manner (p. 162).
41	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “wird” for K’s “wiirde.”
FF [. . . ] first becomes an act of willing (p. 163).
42	Reading, with H, “Beziehen” for K’s “Beziehung” (“relation”).

§14	331
The freedom of this act consists, in part, in the fact that such a relation¬
ship is established at all and, in part, in the fact that it occurs in this or
that way. Insofar as it is simply thought of, this act of reflection appears
as an act of willing; insofar as it is intuited, it appears as a “doing.” This
same act of reflection is the foundation of all empirical consciousness.
In an individual act of such reflection, a rational being views itself in
two different ways or under two different aspects. On the one hand, it
views itself as limited; on the other, it views itself as active in describing
this limitation. The former is its outer aspect, the latter is its inner one;
and, as a result, it ascribes to itself a general organ {(a body)} consisting
of an inner and an outer organ. Feeling is the relation of limitation to
reflection. The source of the limitation is something that exists only for
the ideal activity engaged in thinking about the real activity, and the
immediate union of cognition of an object with the will is thereby
explained.GG
GG And thus the immediate union of an object with the will is explained (p. 163).

166
§ 15
Review of the Preceding Sections
{The purpose of this review is to tie together the various things that (163)
have been established up to this point. From now on, our path will
become more and more level, even if difficulties should still arise here
and there.}
The spirit of our philosophy is this: {nothing outside of me,} no al¬
leged “thing in itself,” can be an object of {my} consciousness; the only
object for me is I myself. {This is the chief maxim of transcendental ide¬
alism and expresses its deepest spirit.} How can {the actual} conscious¬
ness {with which we are acquainted} be explained on this assumption?
{Remark: Philosophy is concerned solely with this question, and only
insofar as it attempts to answer it is it philosophy at all. It would be quite
unphilosophical—indeed, it would be absurd—to deny the facts of
consciousness.}
We can explain anything only insofar as we explain it in accordance
with the laws of our thinking, and the answer to the above question must
accord with these laws.A From this it follows that our explanation of con-
167 sciousness is also not intended to be, {as it were,} “valid in itself,” {but is
valid only for us}; forB the question is, How can a rational being account
for its own consciousness? {Whenever one engages in any argument at
all, one must always do so in accordance with the laws of reason, and
these same laws also apply to the philosopher. For this reason, the phi¬
losopher must obey these laws within transcendental philosophy as well;
for transcendental philosophy possesses no validity in itself, but only in (164)
relationship to reason.
A If we wish to explain consciousness from a first principle, we must do so in accordance
with the laws of our own thinking (p. 163).
B therefore (p. 163).
[ 332 ]

§ 15	333
Remark: Though philosophers have conducted their arguments in ac¬
cordance with the laws of reason, present-day philosophers in particular
seem not to have noticed or to have discovered this fact. Consequently,
some of them have charged that one of the major errors committed by
transcendental idealism is that it proceeds in the following circle: “It is
supposed to provide an explanation and derivation of the laws of rea¬
son; yet, in order to do this, I have to proceed in accordance with these
very laws.” There is no way to avoid this circle of reason; indeed, this is
precisely what shows that there is no “truth in itself.”
Therefore, an explanation of consciousness also proceeds in accor¬
dance with the laws of reason. We are already familiar with these
laws, including the most important one, which states that} we must, in
accordance with the laws of reflection, presuppose something deter¬
minable for everything determinate. We have hitherto applied this
law to the I that is the object of our philosophical investigations. But the
philosopher himself is also an I, and thus he too is bound by this same
law. {As the original object of my own consciousness, I am something
determinate. I must connect this determinacy of myself within con¬
sciousness with a determinability of myself within consciousness. I
thus possess knowledge: (1) of myself, and (2) of myself as something
simultaneously determinate and determinable. Therefore, insofar as it is
a determinate object of consciousness, the I is already something two¬
fold. In addition, it is something manifold simply by virtue of its I-hood:}
The I is for itself an object of consciousness; consequently, it is both sub¬
ject and object. We now wish to relate to each other these two [aspects of
the I: the I as subject and the I as object]. To this end, we must relate
them to each other as determinable [and not simply insofar as each is
determinate].0 {In this way, from the simple I, we obtain something
fourfold:
(1)	a determinate subject;
(2)	a determinate object;
(3)	something determinable with relation to the subject;
(4)	something determinable with relation to the object.}
■ As a result, what is ideal is distinguished for us from what is real,
and this occurs [purely] in accordance with the laws of thinking.0
“What is real” signifies only what is objective within consciousness;
“what is ideal,” only what is subjective therein. Here we are considering
each of these as separately determinable, and, by thinking in this
manner, we obtain [the thought of] what is purely intelligible. {What is
c We wish to relate them to each other, and for this purpose we must presuppose both
[that is, the I as subject and the I as object] as purely determinable (p. 164).
D This occurs in accordance with the law that states: “The ideal and the real I must be
distinguished from each other by means of the laws of thinking” (p. 164).

334	§ is
determinable, considered as a whole, is what is intelligible.1} Conse¬
quently, what is intelligible is nothing in itself; it is merely something
that has to be presupposed if our explanation of consciousness in accor¬
dance with the laws of thinking is to be possible.E
{'Therefore, what is intelligible originates and enters consciousness only by (165)
means of transcendental philosophy itself What is intelligible is merely that to
which the latter attaches all the objects that appear within conscious¬
ness.} Kant also treated what is intelligible in this manner,2 {which is how
one must regard it if one is to avoid falling into the sort of mysticism that
turns what is intelligible into something sensible and wants to intuit it}.
Indeed, any other way of looking at what is intelligible would be tran¬
scendent. {We have now succeeded in determining and in distinguishing
from each other the subject and the object, what is ideal and what is
real—insofar, that is, as these are viewed simply as what we must nec¬
essarily presuppose. What we now want to do is to relate these to each
other.}
■ From the very beginning of our inquiry we have distinguished the
ideal from the real activity. What is originally real {or objective} is the
pure will. {This is not any sort of “being,” for here we are concerned
with the I, which is nothing but activity; i.e., we are concerned with spir¬
itual or intellectual objectivity.3} The pure will is what is determinable;
i.e., it is what can be determined in all the various ways in which we are
determined. What is {originally} ideal is the power of reflection, which is
bound by various laws, including the law that states that we are able to
grasp things only successively and are able to think of them only discur¬
sively. {Above, we also characterized what is determinable as a power
that is compatible with all determinations; in accordance with this, the
first thing that is determinable,} what is originally real, the pure will, is
the power to be an object; {the second thing that is determinable,} what
is originally ideal, the power of reflection, is the power to be a subject.
The former is the power to exist {empirically}; the latter, the power to
exist {in a pure sense}.4 {This is the point from which we will proceed: I
1	“dieses bestimmbare ist im ganzen das intelligible.” I.e., the determinable whole,
which is, in turn, determinable as a determinable subject and a determinable object.
E Here one can see that what is intelligible is not a thing in itself; instead, it is merely
something that—in accordance with the law that states that there can be nothing deter¬
minate without something determinable—we have to posit in addition to what is deter¬
minate. We must do this in order to explain what is determinate and connect it with
consciousness (p. 164).
2	See, e.g., KRV, A565/B593ff.
3	“wir reden von der geistigen Objektivität.”
4	K: “das erste ist das Vermögen rein, das zweite empirisch zu sein.” H: “das erste ein
Vermögen, empirisch zu seyn, das lezte das Vermögen, rein zu seyn.” With Radrizzani
(and in accordance with the clear sense of the previous sections), the translation here fol-

§ i5 335
know that I am a subject and an object, and something determinable
pertains to each.}
We arrived at this presupposition by means of the laws of thinking,
but then {(in the preceding §)} we encountered the following difficulty: (166)
how can the pure will become a manifold for a possible act of reflection?
Our answer was: the will becomes something manifold only through be¬
ing related to a limitation, which is just as original as the will itself,
{which is to say, it has to be presupposed for the purposes of a philo¬
sophical explanation of consciousness}. This applies to empirical con¬
sciousness as well. Considered as it is for itself, the will is purely unitary.
It becomes differentiated only by means of and in terms of the different
objects to which it is directed, and this provides the limitation in this
case. {This limitation to which the pure will is related is something man¬
ifold, and thus, as a result, a manifold is contained in the union [of the
pure will and its limitation].} Reflection in its entirety consists in unify¬
ing this manifold of limitation. The freedom of reflection lies in the fact
68 that the will can be related to this manifold or not related to it; i.e., it can
be related to this or it can be related to that.
Insofar as I am limited, however, there is something that I am not; but
what I am not is not present for me, {and I cannot reflect upon it}. Never¬
theless, the limitation here lies outside of me. How do I become con¬
scious of such a limitation? Answer: {There is nothing that I am not,
without at the same time being it; from one side, I am not something,
which, from the other side, I am; what I am not externally, I am inter¬
nally.} [Hence] the limitation lies outside of me only in part. I am limited
externally, but I am not limited internally; I make an inner copy of my
outer limitation.
With this, however, our question has still not been completely an¬
swered. We must first of all point out the difficulty that still remains and
indicate the extent to which it can be resolved. {Our answer will be short
and simple, but it will serve to illuminate fully and for the first time what
has gone before.}
{The following was said in the preceding §:} I make an inner copy of
the limitation of my outer organ. “I see an object”: this means that there
is a certain space I am unable to penetrate, and I describe {internally}
the precise area that is occupied, {which is the area I am unable to
enter}. According to our theory, the inner organ is never limited, {but is
always free}. Difficulty: I am supposed to make an internal copy of a lim¬
itation of the outer {organ), and thus of a {certain} outer acting {of this
outer organ. Yet the very concept of “copying” already indicates that I
lows H rather than K, which actually states just the reverse: “the first is the power to exist
in a pure sense; the latter, the power to exist empirically.”

336	§ 15
can make an internal copy only of something that was already present
externally, of something with which I assume that I am already
acquainted.} I cannot form an image5 of anything with which I am un¬
acquainted. I am acquainted with the will, but I am not acquainted with
this outer organ. {My organ would be the limitation of my will. Conse¬
quently, it must actually be possible for me to regard this organ—even
insofar as it is an “outer” one—as my own will, as the result of my will;
yet, were I to view it in this way, no limitation would be present.
Until now, however, we have been acquainted with nothing whatso¬
ever but an act of willing, and this is not any kind of outer organ.} Thus
there remains a circle, {something inexplicable}: one refers {something
inner} to a limitation of the outer organ ; {and, since it is supposed to be
copied internally, this limited state of the outer organ must be some¬
thing positive. Yet this limitation of the outer organ by no means occurs
as something positive; it is something purely negative.} Where does this
external organ itself come from?
The situation {with respect to the entire explanation of consciousness}
is as follows: When I perceive something, I am performing an inner act.
{For example, I see a shape in space;} the imagination produces an
{internal} sketch of the spatial shape, etc.6 It is not hard to comprehend
how such a shape can be produced by my [inner] organ {once a percep- (167)
tion has occurred}, but it is not at all clear how this can be accomplished
in a manner that is not supposed to be determined by the outer organ.
Nor is it clear why the results of such a process are assumed to be ob¬
jective. Instead, it seems that these are merely figments of our
imagination.7 Hence nothing is explained in this way. Solution: We can¬
not remain within the realm of what can be displayed in a sensible form,8
but must return to the transcendental viewpoint.
(1) We referred above to an original limitation of our activity,9 a limita¬
tion through which alone the will first becomes a will; {for previously
the will was something indeterminate, a mere striving, and, as such, it
could not be grasped at all}. What is supposed to be limited in this case?
\\Answer:] something absolutely self-active.} That which is absolutely
self-active, and is nothing but this, cannot be limited in the manner of a
being, which may indeed possess an inner force of its own—though, if it
does, its force will be a function of its quantity {and will be annihilated
5	“einbilden.”
6	“die Gestalt im Raume wird abgerißen durch Einbildungskraft, pp.”
7	“Es scheint wir nehmen nur Einbildungen an.” Cp. the corresponding passage in H:
“Es scheint nach dieser Theorie, daß unsre Vorstellungen bloß etwas eingebildetes waren.”
8	“in der Versinnlichung.”
9	Reading, with H, “unsrer Thätigkeit” for K’s “unseres Wesens” (“ofour nature” or “of
our being,” which appears to contradict what is said only a few lines later).

§	337
by the destruction of its being}. (E.g., a sphere of constantly decreasing
size. {Imagine a sphere of a certain volume, and imagine too that this
sphere is conscious of the space it occupies. Let us now begin to remove
certain portions of this sphere. Would it have any knowledge of this? By
no means, for it is conscious only of the space it occupies.}) This is not
169 the case with the intellect, the limitation of which is supposed to occur
without canceling its consciousness of the canceled reality. What sort of
limitation could this be? (Limitation of this sort applies only to activity as
such, not to a being.) This can only be a limitation {of what is purely
absolute, of something that is nothing but activity, where the limitation
is directed at the activity itself; consequently, it can only be a limitation}
that occurs through activity itself = the task of limiting oneself. Such a
limitation {does not affect theactivity itself; it is demanded by this very
activity. It} does not impose itself; instead, it occurs only insofar as it is
freely assimilated. {If the limitation is not accepted, then it is not
present.}
■ Conclusions from this:
(A) It should now be clear what is meant by this limitation of an orig¬
inal will,F {through which the pure will itself first becomes something}.
What we are concerned with here is the totality of limitation, {which is
present in consciousness} as what is determinable in relationship to all
the determinations that appear within {individual moments of} time,
and which I am supposed to impose upon myself {little by little}. The
reason10 why {I have to impose any limitation at all upon myself} is
based upon {my being,} my finite nature; the reason why I have to
impose11 upon myself {precisely} this determination or some other one
is based upon my own individuality. Any other [explanation] is transcen¬
dent. The pure will is merely the will that I ought to have within time.G
(See the [System of] Ethical Theory, ca. p. 200.)12 Answer to the question,
“Who am I?”: {I am the person I make of myself; my determinacy de- (168)
pends upon my own free decision, which follows from the task of limit¬
ing oneself.} But who ought I to be? {This lies in my individuality.}
Individuality is not determined by any being; it is determined by a law:
F [ . .. ] by this original limitation of the pure will (p. 167).
10	“der Grund.”
11	Reading, with H, “auflegen” for K’s “aufnehmen” (assimilate”).
G What I am supposed to impose upon myself gradually over time is my pure will
(p. 167).
12	Das System der Sittenlehre. K’s vague reference to p. 200 of the original edition of this
work (SW, V: 155) appears to be an error, even though it does accord with certain remarks
later in the same paragraph concerning the “conceptual” nature of the ethical law. It is
more likely that the particular passage to which Fichte is referring is the discussion of this
question in the opening sections of the Sittenlehre (i.e., “circa p. 20” of the 1797 edition, or
SW, V: 27ff.). This conjecture is supported by the reference, in H, to “the Introduction to
the Sittenlehre.”

338	§ *5
what I should become is something that is prescribed for all time.H
{This, as was already said above, is the ethical law.} The pure will is lim¬
ited: this pure will is not human understanding, for it is certainly not
extended in space; it is spontaneity and can be limited only by itself.
Therefore, to say that the pure will is limited is to say that a law of willing
(an ethical law) is contained within my being as a whole. This is not a
qualitas occulta (as it is for Kant); it is a law I make for myself. Self¬
activity1 is not limited by any object of perception; instead, it is limited by
a concept. Thus the real question becomes, How is this concept {that
limits freedom} grasped, and how do we obtain a representation that
tells us we should have certain [other] representations^
Overview
{The dogmatist says, “There exist things in themselves, which affect us
and produce within us a cognition of something.” Thus,} according to
the dogmatist, what is {absolutely} primary is the thing; the concept is
secondary. The idealist reverses this; he proceeds from the concept to
being, {which is nothing but a certain determination of the concept, an
aspect of the same when viewed from another side. (See the Introduc¬
tion to the [System of] Ethical Theory.) The idealist thus passes from a con¬
cept to being; this concept, however, is the concept of a goal, which,
according to what was said above, presupposes a being.} Between these
two ways of considering the relationship between concept and being,
there lies a third, {which must actually exist}: that there exists a concept
(which should not be thought of as the concept of a goal) which gives
170 rise to an {objective, given} being. This is the claim with which we are
now specifically concerned.
{Our task is a transcendental one; applied to what has been made
sensible,} [or expressed] in sensible terms, {the situation would be as
follows}: I reflect, and I obtain a concept thereby. {(The act of reflection
itself becomes a concept.)} Along with this concept, and as a condition of
the same, I am also assigned the task of limiting my own outer freedom.
I obtain this concept only by engaging in an act of reflection.
What {was, in the previous §, already limited and here} is to be limited
in consequence of a concept is my outer organ [that is, my body] which
is posited as something I myself have restrained {and prevented from
H The pure will is not limited by a being; instead, it originally contains within itself the
law that determines how it should limit itself throughout all time (p. 168).
1 Self-determinacy (p. 168).
J The task, therefore, is to grasp a concept that limits freedom and [to explain] how we
originally arrive at the necessity of possessing a certain concept (p. 168).

§ 15	339
accomplishing something}, while the inner organ makes a copy of what
the outer organ does not accomplish.
{Here is the difficulty: It has been said that I copy inwardly the very
thing I am unable to do outwardly. But I can copy only what was already
present. In this case, however, I am supposed to copy something inter¬
nally that I cannot do outwardly. How do I obtain [knowledge of] this
inability?}
■ Our response to this circle is as follows: Even this inability [of the
outer organ to accomplish something] is present only through you; it is
an inability you inflict upon yourself, and which you must think of in
this way in consequence of the necessary limitation of yourself.K It is al¬
ready present in the task [you assign to yourself]. {Consequently, the (169)
outer organ proceeds from a higher, inner one. Here again we have an
opportunity to observe the difference between the manner in which the
idealist operates and that of the dogmatist.} The dogmatic philosopher
{explains everything from the outside in: he} proceeds toward the inside,
{from the periphery to the center}. The transcendental idealist [begins
at the center and] describes the radii leading toward the periphery. {He
shows that we explain everything from the inside, that} everything
comes from within; it is of no use to presuppose external things, as we
saw in the previous §.
General illustration (added purely for the purposes of clarity):
{I must view myself in a double light [in terms of my inner and of my
outer organ]. Moreover, as we remarked above, neither of these ways of
viewing myself can be intuited. I observe my outer organ only through
the medium of the inner one. I am limited in my outer aspect, and this
limitation is given to me as a task13 of limiting myself and is nothing but
a self-limitation. For example,} if I want to hear someone, {I have to copy
his words, and therefore} I must not speak. I am not physically compelled
to avoid speaking; the compulsion is only hypothetical, a goal that is a
consequence of a self-assigned14 task, {i.e., to hear}. What is limited is
the external organ of speech, but the limitation in question cannot be
explained physically.
Results:
(1) All external influence is completely eliminated, for otherwise we
would be dogmatists. The task of limiting myself in a certain way is
present within me. {The outer limitation is first thought of when the
task of freely limiting myself in a certain way is present.} I freely describe
K This inability is not an inability that exists without our participation. On the contrary,
it is something we inflict upon ourselves through the limitation. We must think of our¬
selves in this way, because this is the only way we can think of ourselves as limited (p. 169).
13	Reading “Aufgabe” for H’s “Aufsage” (“saying”).
14	Reading “selbst zugefiigten” for K’s “selbst angefiigten” (“self-attached”). Cp. H:
“eine Aufgabe die ich mir selbst zufiige.”

34°	§ i5
this limitation. The fact that I have any knowledge of this [limitation] is
an aspect of my outer power; insofar as I copy this limitation, this is an
aspect of my inner power.L
(2) The outer organ is given to me by means of this task, for the outer
organ is the ideal aspect of the {task of determinate} limitation. {The
task of positing an outer organ is original, and is fulfilled just as surely
171 as I posit myself.} The outer organ is already contained in our very task
of limitation, and it must be posited in consequence of this task. The
point is to explain everything by beginning at the center; we must show
that the dogmatist’s way of looking at things is not required.
Experience could never teach us that we have a body. That we have a
body and that it is ours is something we have to know in advance, as a
condition for the possibility of all experience and of all acquisition of
knowledge.M This [knowledge of our body] is a product of mere think¬
ing; only later does the body become an object of perception.
{For example, if I want to see my eye, I must already possess the power
of vision, as well as an eye. Moreover, I must be able to open my eye and
direct it. Nor is this necessity (that I must have an eye, that I must be able
to open and direct it) an acquired one; instead, it is present simulta- (170)
neously with myself. Similarly, in the case of my hand: I must have a
hand if I want to move it in a certain direction, etc. These instruments
force themselves upon me originally. They are products of my thinking,
and they can be perceived by means of another act of perception.}
(2) The difficulty has now been removed. The outer organ must be
present {as determined for me and by me, for otherwise no conscious¬
ness of any determination of this organ would be possible}, and we have
explained how this is possible: This outer organ is present only insofar as
I myself restrict it, insofar as a concept of this outer organ is present in
advance of any restriction of the same. This concept is given to me
through the task of restricting the outer organ,N and this task is a prod¬
uct of my pure will. N.B.: we are here discussing nothing but an effect of
L Inasmuch as I limit myself or describe this limitation, I adopt an external view of my
own power; insofar as I make a copy of this same limitation, I adopt an internal view of my
own power (p. 169).
MThus we do not require the experience described by the dogmatist; i.e., nothing has
to be given: for to posit my outer organ, along with the determinacy of the same, is a task,
one which is, from the very beginning, accompanied by its own accomplishment. There¬
fore, we do not learn or acquire the knowledge that we possess a body.15 This is something
we [must already] know, and such knowledge is a condition for the possibility of all learn¬
ing and of all experience (p. 169).
15	Reading, with K, “Leib” for H’s “Linie” (“line”).
N The outer organ is itself present for me. It is restricted only insofar as I restrict it. If,
however, I am supposed to restrict it, then I must already be acquainted with it as some¬
thing I am supposed to restrict. But this cognition of the outer organ is given to me
through and along with the task of restricting the same (p. 170).

§	34i
what is free upon what is free. (The fact that one must also view this
outer organ as dependent upon something external is, again, merely an¬
other aspect of the outer organ. See below.)
{I hear only to the extent that I listen, and I specifically notice some¬
thing only to the extent that I pay attention and to the extent that I am
free in this attentiveness. I possess an outer organ only by virtue of the
fact that I am limited and think of myself as having to limit myself as an
I. This outer organ, however, is constrained and limited by the inner or¬
gan; and it is also, in the present context, constrained by something ex¬
ternal. For example, my outer organ is constrained and limited by the
inner organ when I listen; on the other hand, I would not hear anything
at all unless some sounds were present. Consequently, if I am to hear
anything, my outer organ must also be limited by something external.}
■	The inner organ is the soul; the outer organ is the body. {In the re¬
lationship in which we have just posited them, the soul is supposed to be
able to set the body in motion and to control it. From the transcendental
point of view,} these are simply two different aspects of the I. The soul
arises when I make myself sensible through the form of inner intuition;
the body arises when {the same original something} is made sensible
through outer and inner intuition at the same time.
■	The ultimate source of limitation is {a certain} concept {that I am
supposed to describe}, and it is through this concept that intuition enters
my entire world.0 {Here we have arrived at the point we have been
seeking.} From the practical point of view, what is primary is the origi¬
nal, pure will. The pure will expresses itself through goal concepts—
though not of the sort we were unable to explain above, {[i.e.,] goal
concepts that presuppose cognition of a manifold,} but rather through
goal concepts that simply exist, as primary and absolutely imposing
themselves {upon us}.p {It is through such concepts that we are deter¬
mined.} A concept of this sort (which is a noumenon) is sensibly realized
in the form of our inner and outer organs and, {as we shall see,} in the
form of the sensible world. Here the transcendental philosopher
touches rock bottom. He must base his explanation16 upon absolute con¬
cepts, concepts that do not presuppose any others for their own expla¬
nation.^ These absolute concepts are concepts of a goal, which
nevertheless must appear to be something objective, for it lies within my
° This [concept] is the origin of both feeling and intuition, the source of the entire world
and of the system of the Not-I (p. 170).
p The pure will expresses itself through goal concepts that simply exist and that, being
primary, force themselves upon us (p. 170).
16	Reading “er muß [. . . ] erklären” for K’s “er muß [. . . ] erklärt werden.”
Q One wants to explain the determinations of consciousness on the basis of what is in¬
telligible. Concepts of the sort we have been discussing are what is intelligible, and they
actually do explain the determinations of consciousness (pp. 170-71).

342	§ i5
own nature that I am supposed to grasp these concepts. {No concept lies (171
within me in, as it were, a finished and complete form, as something that
172 I merely have to seek out when I need it.} It is sheer nonsense to claim
this—or at least to assert it didactically. This concept arises only insofar
as I produce it, {and I exist only when I bring the concept into
existence}. To say that “it imposes itself upon me” means that the task of
producing this concept is contained within my own nature, as soon as I
engage in reflection. {Accordingly, if I exist then I certainly produce this
concept.} I must engage in reflection, however, if I am to have any con¬
sciousness at all!
{We had to address the following difficulty: I discover myself to be ex¬
ternally limited, and I make an internal copy of this external limitation.
Thus I internally accomplish something that I am unable to accomplish
externally. How did I become aware that I am externally unable to do
something? I have knowledge of this inability, of this limitation, only to
the extent that I am conscious of assigning this limitation to myself. All
consciousness begins with this; consequently, my consciousness has its
origin in a concept [that assigns me the task] of limiting myself. The
limitation in question thus lies in this concept, not in anything external
to me.}
■ Therefore, the limitation we have been discussing, {the limitation
from which consciousness starts, is not inflicted upon me; it} is one I as¬
sign to myself, in consequence of a concept that is originally present
within me. One would thus {at this point} be able to begin an account of
the origination of consciousness:
I reflect (upon myself) in accordance with the determining ground17
{contained within feeling}. We cannot inquire concerning the form [of
this act of reflection], for it is an act that occurs freely; or, {to express the
same thing in sensible terms,} we cannot account for the starting point
{of [our] empirical life}. I must grasp a certain limitation of myself, how¬
ever, {a concept} that contains the task of limiting myself.R This concept
is the internal condition for the possibility of reflection, {and without it
no act of reflection whatsoever would occur}. But I cannot ask why it is
that I grasp precisely {this limiting concept)—[why] Y, rather than not-K;
17	“nach dem BestimmungsGrunde.”
R A history of consciouness could begin at this point, which we also wish to do, and in the
following way:
I	reflect (upon myself) in accordance with the determining ground contained within
feeling. This reflection is not called into question, since it occurs freely. To express this
same thing in sensible terms: I cannot account for the origin of my empirical life; I cannot
engage in an act of reflection unless I grasp a concept that assigns me a task, a concept that
contains within itself a task for me: the task of limiting myself (p. 171).

§ i5 343
for the ground of this lies within freedom. The original state of the lim¬
ited, empirical I is to be engaged in copying {a limitation of} its own will,
{in the manner just described. (See Foundations of Natural Right.)}18
§ 15
But a limitation is not a limitation of the I, and does not exist for the
I, unless it is one the I assigns to itself. Accordingly, the original limita¬
tion of the will can signify nothing but a task for the I: the task of lim¬
iting its own will. The distinctive harbinger of this task within empirical
consciousness can be nothing other than a concept that demands a spe¬
cific self-limitation, and it is by grasping this concept that feeling and
intuition first arise. Consequently, all consciousness begins with the act
of thinking of something purely intelligible.
18	See §§ 1-3 of Fichte’s Grundlage des Naturrechts (SW, III: 17-40).

172
§ 16
Two questions now arise, each of which can be answered only by and
in terms of the other. At this point, however, purely systematic interests
173 are less important than comprehensibility, and therefore we will now di¬
vide our inquiry {and treat these questions separately, one after the (1
other}, though the results of these separate investigations will coincide.
We have discussed an original concept, which contains within itself the
task of self-limitation, {and thus we have spoken of a self-limitation by
means of this concept;} and we have also indicated that everything
within consciousness, {namely, all consciousness, as well as the manifold
of the same, the inner and the outer organs, the soul and the body,} is
supposed to be connected with the limitation that follows from this con¬
cept. {We will concern ourselves at present solely with this concept.}
What then is actually comprehended within this concept from which all
consciousness stems? {What is included within this concept? With what
does our experience begin?}
This question concerns the material or content {of this act of
comprehending}. As will be demonstrated, this material consists of a ra¬
tional being outside of ourselves; for all outer consciousness proceeds
from a rational being, just as all inner consciousness proceeds only from
something intelligible, from I-hood.A Sensibility or sensuousness is
nothing original; it is only something that has been made sensible.1 The
claim that another rational being exists in addition to ourselves is noth¬
ing but a sheer thought, displayed within appearance. This pure
A We could certainly show, in a historical fashion, that this “something” is a rational be¬
ing outside of me. Here too we start not with a sensible world, but rather with an intelli¬
gible, spiritual being, which is viewed as something that has been made sensible (p. 172).
1 “Die Sinnlichkeit ist nur Versinnlichung, nichts ursprüngliches.”
[344]

§ i6 345
thought is the starting point of experience. For the time being, however,
we will set aside this question [concerning the content of this original
concept].
■ {Another question now arises: How} is a continuous consciousness
{of the manifold} connected with this starting point? How does the se¬
ries of successive representations {which is present in our consciousness}
come into being? This question concerns the formal [side of our original
concept of self-limitation], and this is the question we will address in this
§. {We want to address this question first, since we have hitherto been
discussing the formal conditions of consciousness, and thus we will re¬
main within the same sphere.}
Clarification of the Question
What is it then, according to what we have presupposed, that arises
for self-consciousness? Is this not a consciousness of a particular deter-
minacy, a consciousness {of a certain limitation, of a prohibition,} of an
inability to do or to will something?2 But can consciousness begin with a
negation? Can any consciousness be [nothing but] negation? {(It is very
important to understand this question.) Reply: This is impossible, for (173)
otherwise / would be nothing for myself Looking at what has gone
before,} therefore, we have been able to achieve clarity only by means of
{a fortunate} subterfuge and by appealing to something else; we have
not yet succeeded in deriving any positive self-consciousness.3 {What is
negative, however, is something mediated; it is merely the limit that per¬
tains to some actual object.} Negation itself is not the object [of con¬
sciousness]. We said that our original consciousness is a [consciousness of
a] task: the task of inflicting a limitation upon ourselves. But what is the
source of the material content of what we are not supposed to do?
{I engage in an act of willing. I actually do something internally; I
make an internal copy of what is supposed to be an external limitation,
and consciousness can [allegedly] be supported by this actual act of do¬
ing something, this positive [act]. However,} the above question cannot
be answered simply by replying that what is positive is my act of making
an inner copy, for we are not conscious of this inner doing; it is not an
object {of consciousness}, but is merely an instrument by means of which
2	K: “eines Nichtkönnens, Denkens, Wollens” (“of an inability to do or to think or to will
something”). H: “einer gewissen Beschränktheit, des nicht dürfens, nicht könnens oder
nicht wollens.” As Radrizzani points out, H’s “nicht dürfens” (“prohibition”) makes much
more sense in this passage than K’s “Denkens,” since what is at stake here is the limitation
of the freedom of the real activity, not a limitation of the ideal activity of thinking. Hence
the translated passage is here emended in the light of H.
3	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “SelbstBewußtsein” for K’s “Bewußtsein.”

346	§16
174 we obtain access to an object. Accordingly, some actual, positive act of
willing must be united with the feeling of limitation, and this union of
what is positive and negation must be necessary, {because the limitation
that is involved in what is negative can come only from what is positive}.
The previously discussed concept of our task {of self-limitation} must
thus already include within itself an act of empirical willing, which, how¬
ever, is an act of willing in accordance with the concept of a goal {[since]
all willing presupposes a concept of a goal}. Once again, therefore, we
return to the question, How is the concept of a goal possible? {We did
not resolve this question above. We were driven by this question to the
central point, and, from there, to our present point, without being able
to answer it.} This time, {however,} this question will be answered.
(1)	If the act that we have described were possible by itself, it would be
able to produce nothing but objective cognition, i.e., a determination of
being as opposed to a determination of doing; for, {according to the pre¬
vious §,} nothing but {determinate} limitation is present here, but being
is simply limitation made sensible.
(2)	All a free being’s cognition, however, is necessarily related to its own
willing and acting; therefore, a mere consciousness of beingB cannot oc¬
cur originally and in isolation. {(It is very important at this point to know
precisely which relationship we are considering.)}
■	Onec cannot have any cognition {whatsoever} unless, in acting, one
directs oneself toward the cognition in question. All cognition is practi¬
cal, not only with respect to what occasions it, {or from the side of its
origin,} but also in relation to {its subsequent employment, or from the
side of its relationship to} subsequent acting. Being and acting stand in
an uninterrupted relationship of reciprocal interaction; indeed, they
are, {from the transcendental point of view,} the same thing, simply (174)
viewed from two different sides. {Immediate consciousness is conscious¬
ness of nothing but willing and acting;} purely objective thinking (i.e.,
purely sensible cognition) is connected only synthetically with our con¬
sciousness of willing and acting. The point of synthetic unification is as
follows: Whatever is merely cognized (i.e., being) is always what is de¬
terminable; willing is always what is determinate. What is determinable
and what is determinate are inseparably united; therefore, all cognition
{—just as surely as it is supposed to be my cognition—} would have to be
a cognition of something determinable by my will.
■	The result is as follows: What is cognized in the first moment of all
consciousness is necessarily viewed as an object that presents our free
B Therefore, consciousness of a mere being (p. 173).
c A free being (p. 173).

§ i6 347
will with a choice. (The object was represented above as something that
limits and hinders [the activity of the 1]. These various different ways of
looking at the object will eventually be united.) Consequently, some¬
thing of this sort, i.e., something determinable for and by a choice, is
necessary for the possibility of the concept of a goal; for the latter is the
particular determinacy that results from what is determinable. We have
long been acquainted with the form of the concept of a goal, but we were
unable to understand how any manifold could present itself for the I’s
175 choice in the absence of any empirical cognition.0 The solution is as fol¬
lows: The required cognition is originally given [to us]. {The manifold
that is present for empirical cognizance is originally present; it imposes
itself upon us. It is something Intelligible, in consequence of the very na¬
ture of pure reflection within consciousness.}
(3)	{One therefore cognizes something determinable. However,} some¬
thing determinable by my will exists only insofar as a determinate will is
actually present within consciousness, for what is determinable becomes
possible only by means of what is determinate; and what is determinate
is merely the result of a movement of transition which begins with mere
determinability; and what is determinable is precisely that through
which the transition occurs.E What is determinable and what is deter¬
minate must simply coexist alongside each other. {The terms “determi¬
nate” and “determinable” are comprehensible and meaningful only
insofar as they are related to and explained in terms of each other.} It is
easy to fall into error at this point, for in the course of a consciousness
that has already been established4 it is possible to think of something
determinable without having to exercise any choice in relationship to
it. Such abstraction is impossible at the inception of consciousness,
however.
■ What is determinable and what is determinate, therefore, must nec¬
essarily be the same. Consequently, an {actual} act of empirical willing
must, in the same moment, be immediately united with this cognition of
an object (which is determinable for some possible will). Within actual
D Here we find that the object is something determinable by free acting. Something of
this sort, something that is determined in and for a choice, is necessary for the concept of
a goal, which consists only in the emergence of what is determinate from what is deter¬
minable. Here we come ever closer to an answer to the question we answered above only
with respect to its form. We still face the problem of understanding the origin of the man¬
ifold that is present for empirical cognizance (p. 174).
E Something is determinable by my will, however, only insofar as I actually will, only in¬
sofar as a determinate act of willing is present for some consciousness. According to the
above, the two are reciprocally related to each other, for each is possible only by means of
the other. What is determinate is nothing but the result of my passage from what is
determinable. What is determinable is only that from which I moved toward determinacy
(p. 174).
4	“eines schon angekniipften Bewustseins.”

348	§ 16
consciousness, choice and the decree5 of the will appear to us in such a
way that the choice seems to precede the act of willing. {The situation
within actual consciousness is [really, however,] as follows: the will and
the decision always precede the choice. E.g., I am presented with a man¬
ifold, which I then proceed to go through and to deliberate upon; how¬
ever, I know in advance that I am supposed to make a decision.} Here,
what is determinable precedes what is determinate; yet when I make a
choice I surely know that I am choosing, {that is to say, I discover myself
to be reflecting upon an [act of the] will,} and this means nothing less
than that I relate my act of deliberating to an act of willing. {I am already
acquainted with willing; I know what “willing” means, and I must know
this in order to be able to deliberate.} How have I obtained this knowl¬
edge of what “willing” means? I possess such knowledge only insofar as
I have already engaged in an act of willing and then relate the form of
this act of willing to the choice/ {and thus I discover myself to be en- (175)
gaged in an act of willing. I always think, in addition, of a possible act of
willing,} but I can become acquainted with an act of possible willing only
by means of actual willing. Here, however, we are at the very beginning
of consciousness, a point at which the form of willing cannot simply be
borrowed [from a previous act of willing]. At this point, therefore, will¬
ing and deliberating would have to coincide.
■ An act of empirical willing appears as a movement of transition from
determinability to determinacy. {It has this in common, however, with all
other empirical determinations of the mind.} The distinctive character
of an act of empirical willing lies in the complete contraction and focus¬
ing of my entire being upon one single point, {which is also what dis¬
tinguishes it from a mere act of thinking}. Such a contraction does not
occur in thinking; for as long as one continues to think, one also {always}
continues to oscillate between opposites. (All empirical consciousness0 is
something determinate, but there are two different types of determi¬
nacy: incomplete and complete. The former is the sort of determinacy
that appears as thinking; the latter appears as willing. While engaged in
176 thinking [of something], one continues to glance at its opposite. When I
will something, however, I will precisely this and nothing else. A view of
what is “other” is thus included within thinking, but not within willing.6
But all determinacy appears as a movement of transition {from
determinability}, etc. Consequently, there must also be two sorts of de¬
terminability: determinability for thinking and determinability for will¬
ing. Moreover, what is determinable7 for {empirical} willing is thinking
5	“Decret.”
F I relate this form of the act of willing to the will (p. 175).
G Empirical willing (p. 175).
6	“das andere durchs Denken angeschaute liegt nicht im Wollen.”
7	Reading, with H, “das Bestimmbare” for K’s “Bestimmbarkeit” (“determinability”).

§ i6 349
itself. {To proceed from this determinable something to a higher deter-
minacy is precisely the meaning of “willing.”} Willing is, as it were, our
empirical power raised to a second power, whereas thinking is the first
power of the same.)8
{Our problem was as follows: Consciousness of an object is possible
only in conjunction with consciousness of my causal power or of an act of
willing; and, in turn, consciousness of willing is possible only by means
of consciousness of an object. We have here asserted that there is an
original act of willing, which itself becomes an object of reflection. Con¬
sequently, this act of reflection is itself a portion of the original act of
willing, and thus what is true of the will as a whole must also be true of
this portion of the same: it too presupposes a cognition of an object.
Thus, here again, we came up against the same familiar difficulty. What
we have said until now has been meant to overcome this difficulty.
The cognition that has to be presupposed here is a cognizance of
something that is determinable as my own original, pure act of willing.
This is the overall realm of reason as such. This totality becomes limited
and determined by the thought of a concept that assigns me the task of
limiting myself (i.e., it is limited through my individuality).}
■ What particularly concerns us here is the distinction between em¬
pirical willing and pure willing. All that [ideal] activity can ever reflect
upon is pure willing, which is the highest thing that is determinable.
{What is determinable in this case is the overall realm of reason as such.}
This totality is {limited and} determined, prior to anything else, by think¬
ing of a concept that limits me (individuality).H {This provides us with
something objective, which, at the same time, is something determin¬
able for the empirical will.} Three distinct levels are present here: (1)
The level of pure will, or the level of reason as a whole, as something
absolute: the realm of reason. This is the highest thing that is determin¬
able. (2) But the latter is further determined whenever, {in consequence (176)
of a concept of having to limit ourselves,} anything is extracted {from it}9
8	“Wollen ist quasi die zweite Potenz unseres empirischen Vermögens, Denkens ist die
erste.” The term Potenz (“power”), originally adopted from scientific and mathematical us¬
ages, became current as a technical philosophical term in the philosophical discussions of
the Jena circle in the late 1790s and is closely associated with Schelling’s Naturphilosophie.
It first appeared in print (in this sense) in 1799. Its occurrence in this passage (in both H
and K) is cited by the editors of A A IV, 2 as evidence that the Halle transcript (like the
Krause version) stems from 1798/99. This claim, however, has since been undermined by
Juha Manninen’s discovery that Fichte was freely employing this term in his lectures on
logic and metaphysics in the summer of 1798 (as transcribed by the Swedish student
B. K. H. Höijer). Hence it is surely possible that he might also have used it in his lectures
on WLnm during the winter semester of 1797/98. See Manninen, “Höijer und Fichte,” es¬
pecially pp. 269—73, which include a good discussion of the special meaning of the term
Potenz in Fichte’s lectures.
H [ . . . ] determined through thinking of a concept of having to limit myself (through my
individuality) (p. 175).
9	“dadurch daß etwas {aus ihm} aufgefaßt wird.”

350	§ i6
through individuality. (3) This individuality is what is determinable for a
particular moment of consciousness; i.e., it is what is determinable for a
determinate will. An act of empirical willing is a mere act of reflection
upon pure willing as such.1 {This empirical act of willing—appearing as
an act of willing—becomes my entire self-activity. Accordingly, it is only
an appearance and is nothing in itself.}
(4)	How is the act of reflection we have just described possible? It is pos¬
sible only in such a way that the cognition involved in a limitation
brought about by a concept, {that is, the cognition of a concept of indi¬
viduality, which limits me,} is itself impossible apart from an act of will¬
ing—and vice versa. The latter point, {that willing is possible only by
means of cognition,} is clear and is valid for all consciousness^ But the
first half of this statement, that cognition is impossible without willing,
can be thought of only as follows: An act of willing would have to be
contained within the cognition in question, and all that would be
grasped within such cognition would be the {given} determinability of
the act of willing. {I.e., we are not free to choose whether we will view
the matter in this particular manner or not;} willing could not be un¬
derstood in any other way. {Expressed differently,} the concept that is
here involved is that of a summons {to willing, a summons} to free
activity.10
({Here is revealed a side of our system which is easy [to grasp]:} What
is intelligible is the only original, {immediate object of consciousness and
it is given along with me myself}. The sensible world is only a certain
aspect or way of looking at what is intelligible. At this point we are not
concerned with the sensible world, though later on we will explain how
the intelligible world is transformed into the sensible world.11 The ques¬
tion here is, To what extent is what is intelligible determinate?
■ What is supposed to lie at the foundation is not an empirical act of
willing, but rather a pure will—reason as such or the realm of reason in
its absoluteness, which has remained unintelligible up to this point. This
177 is what is determinable as something determinate, which, as an individ-
I	There are three levels:
(A)	There is the pure will, the entire realm of reason as something absolute, as the high¬
est thing that is determinable.
(B)	When this highest thing that is determinable is further determined by selecting
something from it in accordance with a concept of having to limit ourselves, this is [the
level of] individuality.
(C)	At the same time, this individuality itself is something determinable for an actual,
empirical act of willing, i.e., for an individual moment of consciousness (pp. 175-76).
J [. . . ] is very easy to grasp, and its certainty is vouched for by all consciousness (p. 176).
10	“diep ist der Begriff der Aufforderung zur freien Thatigkeit.”
II	See below, § 17, Pt. Two, § 2, as well as the concluding pages of the same §.

§16	351
ual, I am; {consequently,} I cognize myself as an individual.K This
cognition {of myself as an individual}, as we saw above, involves a move¬
ment from what is determinable to what is determinate; {therefore,} I
am a portion of the {realm of} rational being, a portion that has selected
itself therefrom, {and this individuality is, in turn, determinable by an
act of empirical willing. Remaining at the intermediate level of
individuality,} let us pause at this point and consider how individuality
is produced from reason, which occurs in such a way that I discover
myself to be incapable of or prohibited from doing something, though
this very same thing must, nevertheless, actually exist for me originally,
{if I am supposed to discover it to be something I cannot do}. The (177)
{entire} determinate act that is involved here is a summons to engage
in free activity.12 This summons comes from, and is judged as coming
from, another rational being similar to me {(and it will be deduced as
such)}.13 Self-consciousness therefore originates with my act of selec¬
tion from a general mass of rational beings as such. {This is the deepest
point of consciousness: As soon as anyone achieves consciousness, he
perceives himself. This perception of oneself is impossible without a
concept of a mass of rational beings. Therefore, the concept of self¬
hood is a concept constructed from the concept of a mass of rational
beings.} This concept of selfhood as a “person” is impossible without a
concept of a rational being14 outside of us. Accordingly, this concept
too is constructed by an act in which something is selected from a higher
and more encompassing sphere. The first representation1^ I can have is
that of being summoned, as an individual, to engage in an act of free
willing.)
This is the cognition we were seeking, a cognition that already con¬
tains willing within itself {and is given precisely through an act of
willing}. Cognition of this summons is accompanied by a will. {As surely
as I grasp this summons, I must surely will something.} From the per¬
spective of what is sensible: Either I act in accordance with the
summons15 or I do not act in accordance with it. If I have understood
this summons, I can, of course, still decide to determine myself not to act
[in the manner required]; I can decide to resist the summons and can act
K I cognize this determinacy [of the realm of rational beings] as individuality; conse¬
quently, I cognize myself as an individual (p. 176).
12	“ist Aufforderung zur freien Tätigkeit.”
13	K: “diese kommt her und wird so beurtheilt von einem andern vernünftigen Wesen
meinesgleichen.” H: “diese Aufforderung kömmt her, (so wird es deducirt werden) von
[ • • • ]•”
14	“einer Vernunft.”
LThe first cognition (p. 177).
15	Reading, with H, “der Aufforderung zufolge” for K’s “nach dem Willen” (“in accor¬
dance with the will”).

352	§ i6
by not acting at all. Granted, the summons must [first] be understood;
then, however, one must act, even if one does not heed this summons.
{Consequently, if one has understood this summons, then one must act
in any case.} In every case, I give expression to my freedom. This is how
we must now think of the matter {when we observe this act}. But one can
ask an even higher question, namely, What is the transcendental foun¬
dation for this claim? {The transcendental ground of this necessity lies in
the fact that I cannot think of anything determinable without also think¬
ing of something determinate, nor can I think of anything determinate
apart from something determinable.
Result: The first concept is my summons to act.} The goal is given to us
along with the summons, {and some acting is necessarily connected with
the concept of a summons}. From this it follows that individual reason
cannot account for itself on the basis of itself alone. This is the most im¬
portant result [of our inquiry]. {No individual, rational being can
subsist16 for itself.} It subsists only in the whole, by means of the whole,
and as a portion of the whole. For how could an individual’s cognizance
of rational beings outside of himself be accounted for unless he contains
within himself some deficiency?M We demonstrated this in the following
way: Though we have tried hard {for many §§} to explain the origin of
our concept of a goal, our attempts to do so {always} involved us in {the
same familiar} circle: {no concept of a goal is possible without cognition
of an object, and vice versa}. Now, however, we have succeeded in an¬
swering this question, for it is not a difficult question to answer in [the
context of] the ongoing process of reason.17 All we have to do is indicate
178 the first concept of a goal. But this first concept of a goal is {not some¬
thing we ourselves construct; it is} something we receive. To be sure, it is
not given to us as a particular, determinate goal; instead, what is given
to us is simply the overall form of a goal as such—something from which
we can make a selection. {This is the summons to engage in a free
action.} (For a discussion of the consequences that follow from this, see
the Theory of Right.)18 No individual is able to account for himself on the
basis of himself alone. Consequently, when one arrives—as one must—
at [the thought of] a first individual, one must also assume the existence
of an even higher, incomprehensible being.N
16	“bestehen.”
M Cognition of another rational being is brought about by a deficiency that lies in the
individual rational being: perception of rational beings like himself but outside of him
(p. 177)-
17	“denn im Fortlaufe der Vernunft ists damit nicht schwer.”
18	See the corollaries to § 3 of the Grundlage des Naturrechts (SW, III: 39-40).
N This assertion is very important because of the consequences derived from it in the
Theory of Right, which states: The individual cannot develop himself. One individual can be
developed only by another one, and the development of the first individual is something
that can be accounted for only by assuming a higher, absolute reason (pp. 177—78).

§ i6 353
§ 16
Viewed from another side, this task of limiting oneself is a summons
to engage in a free activity (for it does not appear to come from the in¬
dividual; instead, it appears to come from a rational being19 outside of
us). We cannot determine ourselves, however, unless our act of self-
determination is accompanied by an actual act of willing; consequently,
consciousness of an actual act of willing is inseparably linked with this
perception of a summons to freedom.
Remark: Our chief difficulty was that consciousness can originate20
neither with willing nor with cognizing, taken separately; instead, it
must begin with both at once.^But are not willing and cognizing inde¬
pendent of each other? To be sure, consciousness arises from both, but
the cognition from which it arises is a summons to engage in free activ¬
ity, i.e., a cognizance of the fact that a goal is given to us. At the same
moment, an act of willing is {immediately} connected with this cognition.
Willing and cognizing are united in this X.°
19	“einer Vernunft.”
20	Reading, with H, “anfangen” for K’s “ankniipft werden” (“be connected”).
°The chief difficulty for us lay in the following circle: willing cannot occur apart from
cognition, and vice versa. Consciousness, therefore, could not begin with either of these,
taken individually, but would have to be a joint product of both. Consequently, my willing
and cognition would have to modify each other reciprocally, and consciousness would have
to proceed from this. This is also the actual situation with consciousness. Consciousness
commences with a single moment, within which cognition and willing are united: the cog¬
nition of my summons to engage in free activity. This cognition is given to us, and willing
is immediately joined with this cognition, which must, within consciousness, be immedi¬
ately united with an act of willing (p. 178).
(178)

178
§ i7
[Part One]
For some time now it has been our task to assemble, according to the
now familiar rules, the conditions of consciousness, {which we have (178)
established,} and, as it were, to construct consciousness before our very
eyes—though not in the manner of the geometer, who does not concern
himself with the source of his ability to draw lines or worry about the
origin of space,A and whose science presupposes the Wissenschaftslehre.
179 The Wissenschaftslehre has to provide itself with the means it employs [in
its construction of consciousness], and, in this respect, the system con¬
sists of precisely two parts: Up until the point where we showed that the
pure will is the true object of consciousness {[and] the foundation of ev¬
erything else (that is, until approximately § 13)}, our task was to identify
the means by which we were supposed to proceed, {that is, the condi¬
tions from which consciousness was supposed to be constructed}. The
second part of our system began at that point, and here we are engaged
in the actual process of constructing [consciousness]. Our field of in¬
quiry, as well as our foundation, has been established; what we have to
do now is outline the method we will be following and then apply it. We
have assembled [consciousness] as follows:
We began with {the assembly of} the sheer cognition {of an ideal
object}, as the starting point of {all} consciousness. {We spoke of an act of
reflection and showed how this act of reflection divided,} and then, {in
the preceding §,} we added that such cognition is impossible apart from
an act of willing, i.e., apart from something posited as willing by a ra¬
tional being, something that is supposed to be no more than an appear- (179)
ance. {Thus an empirical act of willing is also an appearance of an inner
AThus we are now proceeding exactly like the geometer, who constructs figures in
space, without worrying about where he obtained the lines and the space (p. 178)
[354]

§ n 355
force or energy that hovers above and transcends the empirical act.1
From the empirical point of view, however, this same act appears to be
an actual act of willing, and this appearance is entirely justified and may
not be called into question.} Hence, (in consequence of this
determination,} something {outside of me} is connected with the cogni¬
tion that was first described; and we also have to describe a constantly
flowing series or stream of consciousness. What then is actually the ob¬
ject that is supposed to be assumed to lie outside of us? What we are here
concerned with is, first of all, an act of going outside of ourselves. At this
point we must proceed to a strict deduction and must determine the pre¬
viously established point in more detail: what sort of “external object” is
contained in the cognition described {in the previous §}?
(1) In this {immediate} cognition I discovered (among other things) my¬
self as freely determinable. This determinability of myself was taken to
be entirely identical with the summons to engage in a free act of willing.
{That is to say,} my own individuality arises from the total mass of rea¬
son. From this {determinacy that now becomes a determinability} there
arises, in turn, a {determinate} act2 that occurs in a single moment. This
individuality0 thus appears {within my consciousness} as an {actually
occurring} summons to act freely.3 {Therefore, this intermediate deter¬
minability is the same thing as the summons to act.} Individuality is
given to me precisely through this summons: individuality = the sum¬
mons to act freely. Is this true? What does “a summons to freedom”
mean? This is a concept that would produce an action on the part of a
free being4—if, that is, such a concept were endowed with causal power.
This concept is posited in relation to the action of a free being; i.e., they
are posited in a relationship of dependence, in such a way that the con¬
cept is supposed to occasion the action, {albeit without any compulsion,
for then freedom would be sacrificed—and this is why we said “if such a
concept were endowed with causal power”}. Such an action, however, is
[only] possible, and therefore, we have postulated it only hypothetically.
When one becomes aware of the existence of another individual, then
180 this is a concept of that individual which accompanies what is sum¬
moned; it is a concept that also includes the latter.c This concept [of a
1	“also daß empirisches Wollen auch aus Erscheinung sey von einer innern Kraft die
über dem empirischen schwebt”: reading “eine” for “aus” in this sentence.
2	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “That” for K’s “Thätigkeit.”
B This determinability (p. 179).
3	“Aufforderung zum freien Handeln.”
4	“eine Handlung des freien W.” Though Fuchs completes K’s “W” as “W[ollens]” (“will¬
ing”), it is here construed, following the similar sentence in H, as an abbreviation for Wesens.
c Should one be aware that this summons comes from a free being outside of oneself,
then the concept of this individual from whom the summons springs must already be con¬
tained within this summons itself (p. 179).

356	§ i7
summons] is not supposed to be able to exercise any causality, for if it
did, then it would determine us in a purely mechanical manner; instead,
it is thought of hypothetically.
(We will encounter several concepts of this sort, in which a category is
simultaneously applied and not applied. We employ a category5 merely
in order to be able to think of something. This is true here as well: The
rule that states that whenever we posit anything we have to think of
something else in opposition to it is a causal rule. But what is posited in
opposition [to my determinable self] in the present case is something
free [a freely produced action], and, to this extent, the concept of cau¬
sality does not apply here. If, however, it could apply, then such and such
an action would follow. We have merely indicated the rule governing
such thinking.)
The summons would thus contain within itself the real ground of a
free decision, {if, that is, [the concept of a] “real ground” were applicable
in this case}; i.e., it would be the determining agency that intervenes be¬
tween what is determinable and what is determinate. (According to what
has already been said,} the summons {to act freely} and the determin-
ability are supposed to be the same.6 “Determinability” designates
merely the possibility of an act of determining; it does not indicate the
ground on the basis of which such an act of determining occurs or does
not occur. Determinability is simply the general sphere out of which de-
terminacy can arise; whereas the summons is supposed to provide
merely the explanatory ground of the determinacy,D but is not supposed
to contain within itself the basis for the decision. Something is posited in
the summons which is not posited in mere determinability, {something (180)
that is posited as negated in what is determinable}. Consequently, the
summons does not prove to be identical with determinability; {instead,
they are completely different from each other}. We further posited,
however, that this determinability is also supposed to be posited only as
determinability and as nothing else, {and this is the sole source of the
asserted [identity of determinability and the summons]. What does it
mean to say that “the determinability is only determinability”? This
means that} nothing else should appear within consciousness beyond
this determinability, and that it should fill consciousness in its entirety.
Only under this condition is the assertion in question true, and only un-
5	At this point in the final copy of his transcript, Krause left eight pages blank, with the
following self-explanatory note in the margin (dated August 25, 1799): “The missing pe¬
riod was not skipped. Instead, the text of the lecture was copied by mistake into another
notebook and will be inserted later.” The date indicates when he copied the missing por¬
tion into his notebook, not the date of the original lecture, which, of course, would have
been sometime in the spring of 1799.
6	Reading, with H, “eins sein” for K’s “zugleich sein” (“to be simultaneous”), which is,
perhaps, as Radrizzani suggests, merely a mistranscription of “gleich sein” (“to be equal”).
D On the other hand, the summons is supposed to contain within itself the ground on
the basis of which the determinacy can be explained (p. 129).

§ *7	357
der this condition is it possible. {If anything else were to appear within
consciousness, then this would have to be considered to be something
determinate, and then what is determinable would not fill consciousness
in its entirety.} Obviously, it is only under this condition that determin-
ability is identical with the summons. {This, however, will become even
clearer.}
181	(2) As surely as this X (which can be considered either as determinability
or as the summons) is comprehended at all, one acts freely. Even my re¬
sistance [to acting freely] is an expression of my freedom. Here I nec¬
essarily discover myself to be something determinable, something that
has to act. (Determinability qua forma.)1 {As surely as I comprehend this
summons and am, along with this act of comprehending the summons,
also conscious of the acting that follows therefrom, then acting surely
occurs and is traced back to this summons [as the explanatory ground of
the acting]. The reason for this is that} determinability cannot be
thought of apart from determinacy; neither means anything apart from
the other. Even if we understand this point, it is not all that enlightening.
So let us now explain it more clearly.
I comprehend the summons. What does this mean? What is contained
in {the concept of} this summons? I grasp the concept, I have the cog¬
nition, that another rational being possesses a concept in which some
acting is expected from me, and that, if this concept were able to exer¬
cise causality, I would have to act in a specific way as a result. This other
rational being possesses a concept that envisages some acting on my
part, though he nevertheless cannot treat me as a thing. The concept of
a summons to act freely contains within itself the following:
(A)	I myself am thought of within this concept.
(B)	An accidental property of mine, my free acting, [is also included
within this concept].
■ Hence, purely by means of the concept of this summons, I
{necessarily} discover myself, as well as my own free acting—though the
acting in question is merely possible, a course of acting that I have
merely thought of. I discover that I am thought of as acting by another
rational being, even though I have not yet actually acted. {(I and my own
free acting are both given to me.) With this, however, we have not yet
explained everything that needs to be explained. All that we have shown
so far is the possibility of acting freely; we have not yet shown how I dis¬
cover myself to be actually engaged in acting.}
You question me: this means that you want some answer from me. I
understand your7 8 question: this means that I know what sort of action
7	“in respect of its forms.” I.e., “the mere form of determinability.”
8	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “deine” for K’s “diese” (“this”).

358	§ '7
you want me to perform. But I have not yet reached the end [of the ac¬
count]; for in the case we have described, I still continue to appear to
myself merely as something determinable, but not yet as anything de¬
terminate. This {determinability, however,} makes no sense {apart from
determinacy}; therefore, as soon as I think of anything else whatsoever,
this is something determinate in relation to what is merely determin¬
able. {And, to the extent that a connection is established between the two
acts of thinking, between the act of thinking of the possible free action
and the act of thinking of the actual one, to this extent consciousness is (181)
[self-]identical.} But why should anything else be thought of at all [in ad¬
dition to myself as what is determinable]? Why is consciousness not com¬
plete at this point? We have to show {how [and]} why one moment of
consciousness {necessarily} becomes connected with another and how a
continuous series comes into being. This general problem is here
present in a quite specific and sharply defined form. {We here have the
first moment of consciousness: our summons to act freely, to which we
connect an actual instance of acting. This, quite properly, raises the fol¬
lowing question: Why do we proceed beyond this first moment, beyond
the mere summons, and posit something else as well? Why does this
summons, by itself, not constitute a complete state of consciousness?
This is a very important question for us, because we not only have to
explain the starting point of consciousness but must also provide an ac¬
count of its subsequent development. Let us now go back and analyze
what we have already said.}
182	(3) As surely as I comprehend the summons, I discover myself to be a
subject who can be described as “having to discover itself to be free.”9, E
{Observation: Here is the chief feature of any real or honest
philosophy.9 10 Without self-consciousness there is, in addition, no con¬
sciousness of an “other.” This has been assumed by all Critical philoso¬
phy; nevertheless, such philosophy is not honest with itself,11 12 for within
this philosophy it seems as if one had merely pieced the I together—and
this is true even of the Critique of Pure Reason.12 This, however, is not the
true nature of the I. The I must precede all experience; it must be an
object for itself; it must be discovered. This has now been
demonstrated.}
9	“finde ich mich als Subject, mit dem Predicate der zu findenden Freiheit.” More lit¬
erally: “I discover myself as the subject to which there pertains the predicate of ‘freedom,’
which has to be discovered.”
F As surely as I grasp a summons, I discover myself. I do not discover myself as the
subject of a logical proposition with the predicate “I ought to be free.” I am present for
myself in this concept [of this summons] (p. 181).
10	“einer reellen Philosophic.”
11	“ist s[ie] sich nicht real.”
12	For Fichte’s critical comments upon the “pieced together” I of the “Kantians,” see § 6
of the “Second Introduction” to the Attempt at a New Presentation of the Wissenschaftslehre.

§ i7 359
■ “I discover myself”: what does this mean? (The necessity of connect¬
ing [the predicate of freedom to the subject] must be shown purely
through analysis. {In doing this, we will limit ourselves to the first con¬
cept of the I.}) What must I cognize in order to be able to say “I discover
myself’? I-hood consists in the absolute identity of what is ideal and
what is real. This is what I-hood is for an intellect13 that exists outside of
the consciousness that is here coming into being—i.e., only for the phi¬
losopher, [at least] {until now}. But our question is, How does such an
identity come into being for the I we are now constructing? How can we
show {that} absolute, immediate {consciousness is} the first point of con¬
sciousness? ({With this question, we are finished with our consideration (182)
of the material or content of consciousness, for what is absolutely im¬
mediate within consciousness is the pure will.} We are now dealing only
with the formal aspect of the latter, {i.e., with the question, How do we
become aware of the pure will?}) {Here, once again, we will be observing
the I. I-hood, as has already been said, is the identity of what is ideal and
what is real. Consequently,} “I discover myself’ means I discover that
what is ideal and what is real are identical. In other words, an act of
thinking arises for me; through this act of thinking, there arises for me
a being; and through this being there arises an act of thinking.14
{Popularly expressed,} to say that a being arises by means of thinking
means: “I think of something, and it comes into being.” Consequently,
this is an expression of the will; for willing is nothing but a {determinate}
act of thinking, a kind of thinking which, by virtue of this synthesis
{within consciousness} of being and thinking, is able to transform itself
into a {specific} appearance of willing. Moreover, another act of thinking
is generated by the being that is produced {by an act of thinking}, and I
immediately perceive this being. {Consequently, “I discover myself,” or
“I perceive myself,” means the following: I discover myself as an identity
of what is ideal and what is real, an identity of thinking and being. This
means that one of these terms immediately follows from the other and
that this reciprocal relationship between being and thinking is contained
within the I itself: being follows upon an act of thinking, and, in turn,
this being produces an act of thinking.} For example, {I think} “my hand
moves.” This means that I {am required to} think of my hand as in mo¬
tion, and it moves. “I will to move my hand”: this means that, by means
of immediate perception and the power of free choice, I think of my
hand as movable. {From the transcendental point of view, “I perceive”
13	K: “sie ist eine Intelligenz” (“it is an intellect”). H: “so ist es für eine Intelligenz.” The
translation is emended in the light of H.
14	K: “es erscheint mir im Denken ein Sein durchs Denken, und durchs Sein ein Den¬
ken” (“in the act of thinking there appears for me a being that is produced by this act, and
through this being there appears an act of thinking”). The translation is emended in the
light of the more coherent parallel passage in H: “es entsteht mir ein denken, ein Seyn
durch das Denken, u. durch das Seyn ein denken.”

360	§ i7
and “I will” mean entirely the same thing, but from the ordinary point
of view, these are two different things; thus the transcendental philoso¬
pher has to indicate the distinction between these two. Not only must he
explain that this is only an appearance, he must also account for the ne¬
cessity of this twofold appearance.} Our present aim is to explain the dif¬
ference between these two ways of thinking.
■ Purely semantic accounts of the will [and of perception] are familiar
enough. E.g., “willing” is an act of thinking of the concept of a goal,
whereas {“perceiving”} is an act of thinking of an objective concept. The
former is an act of ideal thinking, the latter is an act of real thinking.F
{One could define the difference between the two above-mentioned acts
of thinking in this manner, but one would not thereby accomplish what
needs to be accomplished. These are only words; one has to go further
and has to provide a real explanation. Presented in a genetic fashion,
the situation is as follows:} To think of a goal is to think of a movement
of transition from determinability to determinacy. To think of determin-
ability is to oscillate among a multitude of mutually opposed moments of
reflection. In thinking of a goal, one moves directly from thinking of
what is determinable to thinking of something determinate; therefore,
thinking of a goal is a free act of thinking, {and the I is conscious of this
act of thinking [of a goal] only insofar as it is a free act of thinking}.
When I think of a goal, determinability is present only as what is to be
determined by my own thinking, and this determinability takes the form
of an unsettled oscillation among a multiplicity of opposed moments of
reflection. The willing subject is also the thinking subject, through
183 which this oscillation is first brought to a halt and concentrated upon a
single point.G A transition is thereby accomplished to a determinate act
of thinking. If we attend to the determinacy, then the I appears to be
constrained {in this act of thinking}. This sort of thinking is called “ob- (183)
jective thinking,” and a specific feeling is connected with it. {The feeling
arises from the act of thinking; the act of thinking does not arise from
the feeling.} If, on the other hand, we attend to the freedom involved in
such an act of determining, then it appears to be an act of willing. In
fact, to think of a goal is the same as to think of an object; these are sim¬
ply two different sides of the same {act of thinking}. How then do these
two different aspects differ from one another? (1) [In the first,] you pay
attention to yourself and to your own freedom. (2) [In the second,] your
attention is directed to the determinacy present in this act of thinking (a
FTo think of willing to move one’s hand is to think of a concept of a goal. When I think
that my hand actually moves, this act of perceiving involves an objective concept (p. 182).
G Determinability is an oscillation between opposed moments of reflection; determinacy
is the concentration of this oscillation upon a single point (p. 182).

§ i7 3&l
determinacy that also comes from your own freedom, though you do not
reflect upon this fact).H
{Recapitulation: (1) We are here in the realm of appearances. There¬
fore, this distinction between different acts of thinking is, like thinking
itself, nothing in itself. It simply represents two different ways in which
one and the same thing must necessarily be viewed. The basis of this
distinction lies in the fact that I observe myself, and when I observe my¬
self I appear to myself in a certain way. How do I appear to myself? My
agility consists in a movement of transition from determinability to de¬
terminacy. The determinability in question exists for me, and thus I ap¬
pear to myself to transcend or to hover above my own determinability.15
The case is the same with the determinacy: this also exists for me, and I
appear to myself to hover above or to transcend this determinacy. Con¬
sequently, neither what is determinable nor my own act of hovering ap¬
pears as a determinate act of thinking, willing, or understanding.
Examples of the state of mind we are referring to here are those of ab¬
sentmindedness and dreaming. This is the state that Leibniz calls that of
“confused representations.”16 I also appear to myself as actively engaged
in wrenching something determinate out of this determinable state. I
hover above what is determinable only insofar as this act of wrenching
away occurs; and this act, in turn, occurs only insofar as I hover above
what is determinable. Both occur at the same time, and only after this
act has occurred do I—through an act of reflection—distinguish my act
of hovering above my own determinability from my act of wrenching
away something determinate.
(2) In this act of wrenching away something determinate I appear to
myself in a twofold manner. By virtue of my absolute act of determining,
I appear to myself as free. This is an act of willing. But if I attend to this
act of wrenching determinacy out of determinability, without any regard
to the freedom [involved in this act], then the determinacy in question
appears as an underlying objectivity, and my own state of mind no
longer appears to me as willing, but instead appears as cognition. For
example: (1) By means of an energy that belongs to my internal energy,
I move my hand. This movement is accomplished by determining this
internal energy. If I pay no attention whatsoever to the freedom with
which I have determined my own energy, then I have a cognition of the (j 84)
H If I attend to the freedom involved in the act of thinking of something determinate,
then this act of thinking appears to me as an act of willing. If I attend only to the deter¬
minacy involved in this same act of thinking, without giving any consideration to the free¬
dom, then what arises for me is an act of real thinking and, along with this, a cognition
(P- 183).
15	“ich erscheine mir als darüber schwebend.”
16	See Monadology, §§ 14—21 and 60.

362	§ 17
movement of my hand. (2) I will to move my hand. This means that I
attend to the freedom involved in the determination of my inner energy.
This produces the act of willing to move my hand. Since the determi¬
nation of my energy always occurs freely, it follows that I feel my hand
move only when I will it to move. Both of these—the actual movement
of my hand and my act of willing this movement—are one and the same
thing, simply looked at from two different sides. What is the source of
this difference?
(1)	One attends to oneself and to one’s freedom
(2)	One attends to the limitation and the coercion. This provides
cognition.}
■	This is how things appears to those of us who are engaged in philo¬
sophical inquiry: we see the identity of being and thinking, {and we view
the subject as thinking of itself and determining itself, as perceiving it¬
self and determining itself). But this is not yet of any help to us here, for
we must ascribe to the I we are examining a similar view [of the identity
of being and thinking], and we must show that the I necessarily views
itself in this way. {And, with this, our task would be completed.)
■	The I views itself in this two-fold manner; it entertains the repre¬
sentation that its hand ought to move, and it connects this with the rep¬
resentation that the hand does move. This, however, does not produce a
representation of my will as containing within itself the basis for the
movement of my hand. I.e., the representation of a causal relationship
between the will and the perception is not contained therein.1
For us, of course, a representation of such a causal relationship is al¬
ready contained in these two representations, for we know that they are
at bottom one and the same.J We must demonstrate, however, that the
actual I is also aware of this identity17 {—not in a philosophical manner,
but in one that is adequate nonetheless.
With respect to the representation of an object, our consciousness be¬
gins when we discover ourselves to be summoned to act freely; here we
ourselves are given. What I discover in this representation is, above all,
1 The I views itself in two different ways:
(1)	Insofar as one’s hand is actually in motion, there arises, from the determinate cog¬
nition of this limitation, a representation of the actual movement of the hand.
(2)	Insofar as the movement of one’s hand is freely accomplished, there arises a repre¬
sentation of the act of willing to move one’s hand, which directs the actual movement.
Thus there here arise representations of both occurrences, “I will” and “it happens,” but
not a representation of a relationship of causality (p. 184).
J The philosopher knows why something happens at the same time that I will it, for he
understands that both of these are really the same occurrence. We have shown this as well
<p. 184).
17	Since Krause left himself a bit more space in his notebook than proved to be necessary
for transcribing the previously noted missing lecture, a blank page occurs at this point in
the MS, accompanied by the note, “Here the manuscript continues without interruption.
Nothing is missing.”

§ 17	363
myself. As we already know, the “I” signifies an identity of what is ideal
and what is real. I never discover myself, however, except insofar as I dis¬
cover myself to be summoned to act freely. Accordingly, it must be the
case that neither being nor acting could ever exist without the other and
that both of these are one; they are the same thing, merely viewed from
two different sides.
I will for my hand to move, and it actually does move. These are sim¬
ply two different ways of looking at the same event. Willing is a way of
thinking of my hand as moving, and cognition18 is also a way of thinking
of my hand as moving. Nevertheless, these two acts of thinking provide
me with two different experiences, because the will appears to be the (185)
cause of experience, whereas cognition appears to be a fact [produced
by] this cause.
Here we have an act in which I determine myself. This expression,
however, contains two different meanings: [1] It signifies an act of “de¬
termining” in the active sense of the term, a “doing.” If I attend to this
aspect, then my active being appears to me as a pure act of willing. [2]
But “determining” also has a passive sense, according to which it signi¬
fies a limitation. If I attend to this aspect, then I discover myself to be
limited. What is present in this case is not a doing, but rather a state
of being affected (by myself), i.e., a passive state, which provides me
with cognition. Thus what is ideal and what is real, doing and being,
would be one and the same. But who asserts this identity? This is a claim
made by a philosopher. But if he is a true philosopher and if his phi¬
losophy is a true philosophy, he will not simply set his philosophical the¬
sis before us, as if it were some sort of thing; instead, he will examine
consciousness itself and will indicate the presence of this union within
consciousness itself—albeit not as something “in itself.” Consequently,
the I itself must actually be conscious of the asserted identity of being
and doing. This is what we now have to demonstrate. It is easy to dis¬
cover this connection within actual consciousness. First, however, we
must consider the following:}
An act of thinking is connected with an immediate consciousness of
the same act of thinking; {this is self-evident and beyond any doubt}.
Therefore, the sort of thinking we are discussing here—that is, the sort
of thinking which, considered from one side, is {the thought of} a goal
and, considered from another, is {the thought of} an object—must, in
both instances, be an act of thinking that is accompanied by conscious¬
ness. Moreover, this accompanying consciousness must be the same in
both cases and must occur in the same moment, since we cannot think of
a goal without also thinking of a real object, and vice versa. Both of these
are obviously connected in our consciousness of thinking them, since
18	Reading “ErkenntniP” for H’s “Erfahrung” (“experience”).

364	§ i7
neither of them can be thought of as something discrete. If we attempt
to think of either apart from the other, then we will think of neither.K
{All} other acts of thinking originate from this unified act of thinking,
which we wish to call “synthetic thinking,” {in order to distinguish it
from all other acts of thinking}. In this act of {synthetic} thinking, the I
thinks of itself as self-determining; and this act of self-determining can-
184 not, 0n turn,} be separated {from the I, unless the I itself were to be re¬
nounced. In this act of thinking, therefore, the I itself expresses its
entire nature.} The I is an I for itself. {This will make what has already
been said even clearer.} Here we have an act of thinking of the object
and an act of thinking of the goal. Though these thoughts are distinct
from each other, they necessarily occur together within a single con¬
sciousness, and the latter, {that is to say, the consciousness of thinking,
the consciousness of the indivisible unity of these two acts of thinking,}
is called “synthetic thinking.”
Remark A: As ideal activity, all thinking is directed at some object of
thinking. What then is the object of this act of “synthetic thinking”? This
object is nothing other than I myself, {and indeed,} I myself as engaged (186)
in thinking. (1) I think, and (2) I observe myself thinking. This latter is
the act of synthetic thinking. {Moreover, (1) I think of what is ideal and
of what is real, object and goal, and (2) I observe both these acts of think¬
ing. This last sort of thinking is synthetic thinking, for what is ideal and
what is real, object and goal, are both present within this act of thinking;
the object and the goal are here grasped together.} In synthetic think¬
ing, both the former acts of thinking [my thinking of an object and my
thinking of a goal] are grasped together in a single moment of con¬
sciousness. Accordingly, such an act of thinking is an intellectual intu¬
ition, and what is thought of {in this act} is {a determination of pure
activity,} something intelligible, something that comes into being {only}
by means of thinking. Synthetic thinking thus belongs under the head¬
ing of “pure thinking,” which we have previously characterized as
“merely thinking of something.”19 In contrast, the sort of thinking that
is the object of synthetic thinking (which is both ideal and real) is
{merely} something {sensible, since it is} mediated by sensibility.
Remark B: Though the I is not pieced together from a manifold of rep¬
resentations, there is, nevertheless, a certain amount of truth in this way
of looking at it. The error lies entirely in the one-sidedness of this as¬
sertion. For ideal and real thinking are united within synthetic thinking;
therefore, {if they are to be united,} there must be some act of thinking
K They must be thought of together, or else neither of them will be thought of (p. 185).
19	“sich etwas denken.” See the introductory portions of § 13.

§ i7 365
in which they are distinguished from each other. (This is the evidence to
which those who make the above claim can appeal.) Nevertheless, {as we
said above,} both of these are one and the same act of thinking. This ap¬
parent contradiction leads us to an important {[and] surprising} conclu¬
sion: that the sort of thinking that introduces distinctions and notes
differences and the sort of thinking that overcomes and unites differ¬
ences20 are themselves one and the same and cannot be separated from
each other. Through synthetic thinking, the kind of thinking that intro¬
duces distinctions is not simply unified; instead, {in order for such a uni¬
fication to be possible,} it is first divided in such a way that it cannot be
united.21 But how can this division occur? Insofar as thinking is consid¬
ered as it is in itself, there surely cannot be two different kinds of think¬
ing, {which could, as it were, be united by being posited together. These
are only different aspects22 of a single act of thinking.} The separation
occurs in {and through} the unification, and the unification occurs
through the separation {of these two aspects}: these two acts cannot be
separated. {Synthesis and analysis always go together here. The situation
is as follows:} There is within me a first, original consciousness = A. As
a consequence of the duality of the mind, this original consciousness is
85	viewed as something twofold, {as B and C. Hence A) = B + C. Moreover,
C itself is also viewed as something twofold. A, therefore, would be the
entire totality of thinking,23 i.e., the synthesis. (For the Wissenschaftslehre
presents nothing but wholes;24 every moment contains a manifold.
{Within the Wissenschaftslehre, thinking is always a whole; it is not some¬
thing pieced together from its parts. It is presented as a complete total¬
ity, and only then is the manifold of thinking presented. Furthermore,
this manifold is not already present in a finished form within this total¬
ity, so that all the philosopher has to do is disassemble it; instead, this (187)
manifold first comes into being before the eyes of the philosopher.})
{Therefore, A is viewed in a dual light, namely, as B and as C.} B is
supposed to be my act of thinking of my own thinking, {what is ideal,}
the mediated or indirect consciousness of my own thinking, {through
which I become conscious of my own thinking}. C is supposed to be the
act of thinking of which I am conscious. B and C together constitute A.
The division comes only from the original duality of the subject-object.25
C itself {also} appears as something twofold, as the ideal act of thinking
20	“das verschiedene und vereinigende Denken.”
21	K: “erst getrennt ohne vereinigt werden zu können.” H: “sondern es wird durch
daßelbe für die Möglichkeit einer Vereinigung zuerst getrennt.” Radrizzani suggests that
the “ohne” in K is a mistranscription of “um,” which would make the passage in K read,
“First divided in order to be able to be united.”
22	Reading, with Radrizzani, “Absicht” for K’s “Ansicht.”
23	“die Maße des Denkens.”
24	“die WissenschaftsLehre stellt immer lautere Maßen auf.”
25	“von der ursprünglischen Duplicitaet, der Subjectobjectivitaet.”

366	§ i7
of a goal {= Y} and also as the real act of thinking of an object {= X}:
C = X + K In relation to C, B both separates and unites these two acts
of thinking [= X and Y]. In relation to both B and C, A also is an act of
thinking that both separates and unites [B and C]. Thus we have the en¬
tire totality of the manifold.L That is why we have called this type of
thinking “synthetic thinking.” {The opposed elements would not be pos¬
ited in opposition to each other and would not need to be united if they
were not already united.} The I is posited as the mediating subject that
unites these various types of thinking.26 Yet [before it can do this], syn¬
thetic thinking must first portray these various acts of thinking as dis¬
tinct from one another; therefore, synthetic thinking must also be
analytic. This analysis occurs by means of an act of thinking that is hy¬
pothetically necessary, {i.e., an act that must necessarily occur if con¬
sciousness is supposed to occur,} but which is itself based upon freedom.
How then are these opposed acts of thinking related to each other? They
are related to each other in the same way what is determinable is related
to what is determinate; this is a relationship, however, that gives rise to
a successive temporal series. Consequently, time first arises through this
act of analytic thinking, which occurs in a single moment, {for two mo¬
ments [now] arise, and, with this, time itself}. In this way, {time arises
before our very eyes:} we obtain a genetic understanding of the origin of
time and, at the same time, see that it is something {purely} ideal.
■ Admittedly, it is difficult to accept the fact that we first “think our¬
selves into” time. The reason for this difficulty is as follows: I am sup¬
posed to think of myself within time, but I am surely unable to do this
unless I am already in time. When one speaks in this way, however, one
has not abstracted from time at all; instead, one thinks of this supreme
act of thinking [as occurring] within time. This is not correct, since what
is supersensible does not occur within time, and—for precisely this rea¬
son—we are unable to think of what is supersensible, but can employ it
merely to explain other things. Here, however, this point can become
surprisingly clear for anyone.
{Remark: Many people find it difficult to obtain entry into the Wissen-
schaftslehre precisely because it treats time itself as nothing more than a
form of intuition. I myself am not in time. It is by means of thinking that
I first extend myself over time, and it is in this way that I bring time into
being. One stumbles over this point because one [assumes that one] can¬
not think of oneself in time at all unless one is already in time. This oc¬
curs because one does not think of time with sufficient precision, i.e.,
because one thinks that this same thinking subject is itself in time. Time,
however, is only the form of our intuition. It is the colored glass through
L Thus we have here thinking in its entirety, as well as the manifold of the same (p. 187).
26	“das Ich wird zwischen beides hineingesezt als vereinigend.”

§ i7 367
which we view everything in time; but the subject who looks through
this glass is not in time. This subject is something supersensible, even
though it can observe itself only through this very same glass, and thus
can discover itself only insofar as it discovers itself within time. At this
point it becomes clear that all thinking occurs within time, including the
act of thinking by means of which I construe myself.}
Every act of my thinking in which I actually construe myself is an act
of thinking of an I,M which {in accordance with the laws of thinking}
contains within itself a manifold: the concept of a goal as well as acting.
By means of my thinking, the concept of a goal and acting are (1) dis¬
tinguished from each other and (2) posited in a certain relationship to
each other. In what relationship? In a relationship of determinability to
determinacy, or in a relationship of dependence. This is a temporal re¬
lationship, for what is determinable precedes what is determinate, and
186 the concept of a goal precedes an act of willing. {Let us apply this here: (188)
We can all engage in an act of willing. Here we find ourselves affected as
deliberating, and then we make some decision. Time is already present
here; the act of deliberation precedes the actual decision. Does my de¬
cision actually occur within time?} Does the [deliberation] really precede
the [act of] the will?27 {If I adopt the ordinary point of view, the answer
is obvious: of course the decision occurs within time. But it looks quite
different from the transcendental point of view.} The real truth of the
matter, as judged by pure reason, is this: no,28 [deliberation does not
precede the act of willing]; willing and deliberating, along with the re¬
lationship I posit them to have to each other, are all mere appearances.
My consciousness begins not with willing, nor with the concept of a goal,
nor with the perception of an object; instead, it begins with all these [at
once]. It is all these things, and it is only within experience that I first
separate them.N Different colors are produced when a single ray of light
shines through a prism. No one claims that the ray of light itself consists
of these various colors; instead, it is something simple, which becomes
differentiated and dispersed by the prism. Accordingly, one may also tol¬
erate talk about the ideality of space {as a form of intuition, by means of
which we posit objects in space}; but {it is far less obvious that time itself
is only a form, which first arises only through the division of the undif¬
ferentiated ray of the intellect, [and that]} when one turns to time and is
M [ . . . ] is an act of thinking of an X (p. 187).
27	“Ist würklich erst Entschluß als Wille ” Reading, with Radrizzani, “Deliberation” for
“Entschluß” (“decision”), a reading supported by the context, as well as by the parallel pas¬
sage in H.
28	“bedeutet würklich Wahrheit von der reinen Vernunft, so ist [die] Anwort: nein.”
N My consciousness can begin with none of these, taken individually; it must proceed
from them all. In fact, they are originally only one; but, since I proceed from this starting
point, I distance myself from the primordial point of consciousness, inasmuch as I view
this through the glass of sensible representation and divide it (p. 188).

368	§ 17
supposed to examine it, here too there is nothing but a single ray, which
is not in any time, and that a temporal expanse also first arises only by
means of such a prism: our own power of representation. Yet one must
comprehend this point.
{Those who will not concede that time is a form of intuition can be
quite bewildered by the following:} It is, for example, certainly true that
the events in the world are connected with one another as causes and
effects. But no time whatsoever is contained within the concept of cau¬
sality, for the effect is absolutely simultaneous with the cause. Even if we
think of causality as a merely mechanical relationship, the connection
[with the effect] does not come after the cause itself. When my finger
presses upon something, a depression is simultaneously produced. Ev¬
erything that exists is an effect of some cause and is simultaneous with
this cause. But what about this cause itself? It is, in turn, an effect of
some other cause, and so on, ad infinitum. No time comes into being in
this way; everything is present in a single stroke. {Thus there is no time
at all, because there is no succession whatsoever between the cause and
the effect.} What then is the origin of the time with which we are nev¬
ertheless familiar? It arises because we are unable to think of a cause and
an effect at the same time, but proceed from the one to the other. This
is how thinking produces time, though this is accomplished not by think¬
ing alone, but rather by the original act of intuiting an act of thinking,
{namely, the act of thinking of a cause and an effect}. We obtain the var¬
ious temporal relations by analyzing the concepts produced thereby.
{Time, therefore, is and remains a form of intuition.}
Both synthesis and analysis are present at the beginning of conscious¬
ness, and it is by means of analysis that a manifold comes into being
{within consciousness}. There can be no first moment of consciousness,
at least none that could be cognized as such, for every moment of con¬
sciousness is always part [of a larger whole].29 {Instead, a second mo¬
ment is always connected with the first one, in accordance with the laws
of consciousness; for every moment of consciousness is an instance of
acting, and for every instance of acting I must always presuppose a con¬
cept of a goal. Consequently, for every moment of consciousness I must
presuppose another, in which the concept of a goal was constructed. (189)
Consciousness is a continuous and coherent whole.} Let us say that a
child first becomes conscious at moment X, which would thus constitute
the first moment [of his consciousness]. He discovers himself to be a will¬
ing subject, but he cannot account for this without presupposing an¬
other moment Y, {the moment at which he grasped the concept of a
goal}. Consequently, though X is the first moment of the child’s con¬
sciousness in the eyes of God, for the child himself it is not the first mo-
29	“denn alles ist immer ein Stück.”

§ i7 369
ment. Instead, he must go on and presuppose another moment Z, etc.
{Whenever one wishes to determine the consciousness of the limit [that
is, to determine the starting point of consciousness], consciousness thus
extends itself by means of this very act of determining. Similarly, con¬
sciousness also extends itself in a forward direction; for this reason} no
187 human being knows when he will die. This much is clear; we always
think of additional goal concepts {for some future moment}. But neither
has any person ever had any knowledge of when he began. {Accordingly,
our consciousness has neither a beginning nor end.} Consciousness itself
is simply not in any time at all, and only {what is in} time has a beginning
and an end. {Consciousness is not in time, because within consciousness,
or within every single moment of consciousness, a concept of a goal must
be thought of for the moment.in question, as well as for the moment to
come.} Time as a whole is merely a certain way of looking at things, one
that arises when we start with what we take to be a first act of willing and
then connect this act with another, [preceding one,] which is supposed to
explain it, and with another, subsequent one, which is supposed to follow
from it. {Consequently, every moment of consciousness also includes
within itself something of the past and something of the future.}
Remark C: What we have described is nothing but an act of willing, and
it becomes an act of willing precisely through the synthesis accomplished
by relating being to thinking, and vice versa. {Thinking is being, and be¬
ing is thinking: they are the same thing, simply viewed in two different
ways. Consequently, willing, which consists only in relating being and
thinking to each other, is only an appearance.} People will not agree with
this, however. In response to the question, “Do you or can you will some¬
thing or other?” everyone will maintain that we can strip everything else
from him, but not his personality [i.e., his will]. Nevertheless, willing is
nothing more than an appearance. It is precisely what has just been de¬
scribed: the identity of being and thinking. Willing is this entire recip¬
rocal interaction of being and thinking, and it is nothing else. Willing is
the starting point of all consciousness, the true center to which every¬
thing else is connected.0 {I discover myself only as a subject engaged in
willing.}
■ Have we not, however, gone astray? We have analyzed the concept of
a summons, but we arrived at a second concept and have been discussing
something other than the concept of a summons. We have discovered
that what comes first is not the concept of the summons, but rather an
act of willing. There is no moment at which consciousness first arises;
consciousness is an act of willing. Everything else follows from this
0 Willing is the starting point of consciousness, within which everything is connected as
a consequence of analysis (p. 189).

37o	§ i7
moment of will through the mere appearance [of the same]30 An act of
deliberating or selecting does occur, but this is something I posit in ad¬
dition to the actual determination of myself, so that the latter can be said
to precede the act of willing.
■ One could divide transcendental idealism into an “idealism of inner
sense” and an “idealism of outer sense,” i.e., an idealism of space and an
idealism of time.p {The first part is much easier to grasp than the sec¬
ond, and will therefore also be acceptable to many people. But many will
find it much more difficult to obtain entrance into the second part, even
though this has to be accepted if the first part is to have a solid foun¬
dation. Until now we have been trying to show that our consciousness is
not discursive insofar as it is outside of all time, but instead becomes dis¬
cursive only by being dispersed over time. Consciousness begins with
consciousness of a summons, though this too can be thought of only in (190)
order to explain consciousness.} In short, in the course of the develop¬
ment of consciousness it appears that what conditions {our} will is some¬
thing that lies within us. At the point where {consciousness of our}
individuality commences, [however,] what conditions the will appears to
lie outside of us in another rational being. {In this way, individual reason
generates itself from reason %ax e^oxTjK.31}
{We began with a representation of the summons to act freely—a rep¬
resentation that we presupposed. We said, “I discover myself to be sum¬
moned.” We considered the meaning of the words “I discover myself”
and explained what sort of “I” is discovered in this case. “I” signifies the
identity of the object and the subject. I-hood can consist only in the fact
that a subjective act of thinking (= “thinking”) and an objective one
(= “willing”) appear as one and the same act of thinking (= “synthetic
thinking”). We will not here discuss that act of thinking within which
willing and the goal (or the act of thinking of a goal) appear as two sep¬
arate acts of thinking, even though it is true that no act of synthetic
thinking can exist in consciousness apart from an act of analytic
thinking.}
!88	(4) As surely as I am summoned [to act freely] at all, I am supposed to
discover myself. But {how is this possible?} In what form do I here dis¬
cover myself? In the sort of synthetic thinking we have just described,
30	“an diesen Moment des Willens wird durch die bloße Erscheinung das übrige ange¬
knüpft.” The context, as well as the preceding passage in H, suggest that this obscure sen¬
tence should perhaps be emended by reading “Analyse” for K’s “Erscheinung”
(“appearance”), in which case it would read, “Everything else follows from this moment of
will through mere analysis.”
p One could divide transcendental idealism into two parts:
(1)	A transcendental idealism of outer sense, which would establish [the foundation oi]
everything that appears to us as an object, or as matter in space.
(2)	A transcendental idealism of inner sense, which would establish that even time is noth¬
ing in itself, but is only our product (p. 189).
31	“in the larger sense.”

§17	371
{where subject and object are grasped together, in the center of all
consciousness,} I discover myself to be engaged in thinking of a goal as
well as of the object produced by thinking about this goal. Moreover, I
discover myself to be thinking of this goal and of this object at one and
the same moment—or, more accurately, in no moment at all, but outside
of time altogether. We thus have two extreme terms [the thought of the
goal and the thought of the object], while synthetic thinking is the mid¬
dle term, which constitutes the inner nature of each of the two extremes.
Furthermore, we will see that each of these two extremes must, in turn,
be connected with another, [even more] extreme, term. In this manner,
we will find that consciousness contains within itself a fivefold [synthe¬
sis], {which connects everything in synthetic thinking and by means of
which each element is inseparably united with all of the rest}. Thus we
have a synthetic periodum,32 which is always fivefold. The present inquiry
has the advantage of proceeding from the innermost element to the out¬
ermost ones, unlike the published Wissenschaftslehre, which begins with
the outer terms and proceeds from there toward the center. ^ All think¬
ing is included within this {fivefold} synthesis, for every act of thinking is
a determinate form of self-consciousness. {In other words, all conscious¬
ness is an immediate consciousness of myself. I posit nothing but myself,
but I posit myself from a variety of different sides. As we have seen (191)
above,} every act of synthetic thinking is also an analysis, through which
this same act of thinking is dispersed over time. It is through the relation
of these {temporal} relationships {to one another} that I obtain a mani¬
fold act of thinking; moreover, it is only through this manifold act of
thinking that a manifold becomes present for thinking.
{In my present situation, I appear to myself to have engaged in an act
of thinking in the preceding moment. This is not a truth; it is merely an
appearance. It is nothing more than an act of thinking, a single act of
thinking which is dispersed and extended over time by consciousness.
Moreover, this can be demonstrated.} Yet surely this way of looking at
consciousness is contradicted by the usual view, which asserts, “Before
one is able to think of anything in time, one already has to be within time
oneself.”R {The transcendental philosopher responds by asking, “Who
says this? Who makes this claim?” This claim is, of course, made by some¬
one who is thinking synthetic thinking itself.} But [only] someone who is
32	“Period.” Fichte here employs this term in its grammatical sense of a complete or “pe¬
riodic” sentence, which does not display its complete meaning until one has reached the
end. Like an act of synthetic thinking, a “period” (periodum) is a whole, within which several
different, or, in Fichte’s language, “opposed,” elements are united.
Q In the present version of the Wissenschaftslehre, we begin with the innermost term and
proceed from there to the extremes. This is not the path that was followed in the published
Wissenschaftslehre, which began with the extreme terms and then sought to discover the
center, i.e., synthetic thinking (p. 190).
R The ordinary person views this matter in the following way, and says, “You do indeed
think of your own thinking as something that occurs within time; but in order for you to
be able to posit your act of thinking within time, you yourself must be in time” (p. 191).

372	§ i7
already engaged in reflection can speak in this way; indeed, if he were
able to think of this situation in any other way, then this would be
enough to prove the incorrectness of what we have been saying in this
inquiry. {Such a person cannot help but think that the highest act of syn¬
thetic thinking occurs within time, for he thinks of this higher act of
thinking by means of a lower one—and thinks of this lower act of think¬
ing by means of the higher one itself. Briefly put, the main point is this:
We cannot escape from our own consciousness; even the transcendental
philosopher, when he wants to explain consciousness, is able to go be¬
yond consciousness only by means of a forced act of abstraction.}
It is certainly true that, within experience, we are unable to escape
from the form of consciousness. Accordingly, we in fact obtain two se¬
ries, which exist alongside each other:
(1)	The series of ideal thinking, which originates in the act of thinking
of a goal.
(2)	The series of real thinking, which originates in the act of thinking
of an object of our willing.
Neither of these series exists apart from the other, and each is made
possible only by the other. In order to investigate them philosophically,
however, we will have to consider each series individually.8
I. Concerning the Series of Ideal Thinking
{“I think”:} In this act of synthetic thinking,33 I posit myself as con¬
structing a concept of a goal; the latter is also an act of thinking, and
189 hence I think of myself as thinking. Who thinks of me in this way? I do;
I think of myself as thinking when I engage in an act of synthetic think¬
ing which has as its object {my own} act of willing. How is the act of
thinking of the concept of a goal related to this act of willing? Obviously,
it is related to it as a condition is related to what it conditions; conse¬
quently, it must precede it in time. Willing stands in a relationship of
dependence to the act of constructing a concept of a goal. {Within actual
consciousness, this occurs as follows: We will to act; consequently, we de¬
liberate: we construct a concept of a goal and make a decision. Two dif¬
ferent representations are therefore present in this case: that of an act of
constructing a concept of a goal and that of an act of willing. These two
representations are related to each other as a condition is related to (192)
s The two series are internally united with each other; neither exists apart from the
other, and, without the other, each is nothing at all. Nevertheless, as philosophers, we now
wish to separate them, in order to be able to consider and examine each of them individ¬
ually (p. 191).
33	Reading, with H, “in jenem synthetischen Denken” for K’s “in jenem Denken des syn-
thetischen” (“in this act of thinking of what is synthetic”).

§ *7	373
what it conditions. Constructing a concept of a goal is the condition, and
the act of willing is what is conditioned thereby. Time is also involved in
this relationship. The transcendental philosopher shows that, in itself,
this is not the way things stand and that these relationships are also only
an appearance. The true center of consciousness is willing. The con¬
struction of a concept of a goal is an act that is only thought to precede
the act of willing, as the condition precedes what it conditions. An act of
constructing a concept of a goal is therefore presupposed to have oc¬
curred in advance of the act of willing which actually does occur.} Fur¬
thermore, in this act of constructing a concept of a goal, the I is thought
of as engaged in thinking; therefore, what is supposed to precede the act
of willing is an act of thinking, indeed, the act of thinking of myself as a
willing subject. In order to account for the latter, I must posit or produce
another act of thinking [the act of thinking of a goal]. {Therefore, it is
through thinking of myself as willing—and only in this way—that an act
of thinking of myself is produced. In a certain sense, therefore, the act
of thinking of a goal is an act of thinking which must have occurred in
advance, though it is not posited originally, but is posited merely in con¬
sequence of this [relationship of] dependence.} To say that an act of
thinking of a goal is thought of as having occurred in advance [of the act
of willing] means that it is thought of not as identical with the latter, but
rather as a separate act, lying outside of the present one.
■ Further analysis of this same act of thinking, in which we will con¬
sider first the subjective and then the objective aspect of this act of
thinking:
Re. 1 [the subjective aspect of synthetic thinking]: This is an act of
synthetic thinking, and it posits another act of thinking in opposition to
itself: the isolated act of thinking of a goal, {an act that is a discrete part
of this very act of synthetic thinking}. ({As has already been said many
times,} for Kant the synthesis is the result of a concept and occurs {only}
when the two terms to be united are {already} present. This is not the
case here; instead, C exists, and C includes, in addition, A and B in their
union with each other—a union that, in turn, originates only through
the positing of C. Hence C obviously possesses a dual nature: partly uni¬
tary and partly twofold. {According to Fichte, synthesis is a process of
development, in which something entirely new and not previously
present becomes attached to what preceded it. E.g., what is present is A;
what is connected to it is B; and the synthesis is C.}) Here we have a
consciousness = C. (C = an act of synthetic thinking. What is determi¬
nate in the present case is an act of empirical willing.) The act of con¬
structing a concept of a goal [ = an act of pure willing = A] is contained
within this act of synthetic thinking, which [also] includes [the thought
of] an object that is to be brought about as a result of my willing [= B].

374	§ i7
C becomes an act of {empirical} willing when these [i.e., A and B] are
united with each other. In their union with each other, however, {pure
willing and the object} must also be separated {and posited individually
as A and B). Therefore, A is also posited on its own. A, {or the act of con¬
structing a concept of a goal,} is, however, an act of thinking. Has this act
of thinking preceded any [actual] moment, {[and specifically] has it pre¬
ceded the act of empirical willing}? A is merely posited as having already
occurred, {in accordance with the law of thinking which states that, for
everything determinate, we must presuppose something that deter¬
mines it}; it is something that is merely produced.T
■ A certain act of thinking is not actually thought at all; instead, we
only think that it is thought. This is the case here: we do not construct
[the concept of] a goal; instead, we merely posit that it has been con¬
structed. (Just as matter is presupposed or projected in the case of my (193)
sensible perception, so too does my thinking or willing presuppose an
act of thinking on my part. There is an apparently paradoxical saying
that expresses this very well: “It is not [actually] thought of; it is only
thought of as it would be thought of.”34 This is the situation here: the act
of constructing a concept of a goal is only presupposed to have occurred
before the act of willing.} Therefore, when the system of reason is
completed,35 this first moment is presupposed. No one becomes con¬
scious of dying or of being born, and thus there is no beginning [of
consciousness].
190	■ This act of synthetic thinking consists of two elements, {the act of
willing and the act of thinking of a goal}. How are these two elements
related to each other? The first element or act is what is determinate or
determined; {indeed, it is completely determined, since it is related to
nothing but the second one,} whereas the second is what determines the
first. How, for example, are we able to distinguish the act of thinking of
a present sensible representation from the act of thinking of one that is
not present? Or, what distinguishes the present moment from all previ¬
ous moments? The present moment is {always} simply what is determi-
T Here we have a consciousness (= C). The act of synthetic thinking is already contained
in the act of constructing a concept of a goal, for the act of synthetic thinking contains
within itself an act of [pure] willing and an object, insofar as the latter is supposed to be
brought about through willing. Thus, in the union of an act of willing with an object, C
becomes an act of empirical willing; but precisely through this union, the act of pure will¬
ing and the object are both posited individually as well, as A and B, and are separated from
each other. Here we are concerned only with A. But A (= the act of constructing a concept
of a goal) is an act of thinking. This raises a question: Does A (the act of thinking of pure
willing) precede the act of empirical willing (if this is assumed to be the first moment of
consciousness) or not? A is merely posited as having preceded it, in accordance with the law
of thinking which states that, for everything determinate, we must presuppose something
that determines it. Accordingly, A is merely our own product (p. 192).
34	“Es wird nicht gedacht, [es wird nur gedacht—] als würde gedacht.” The words
within brackets appear in the margin of H.
35	“beim Knüpfen des Vernunftssystems.”

§ n 375
nate, and the past moment is {always} thought of as what determines
{the present one}. Once the present moment has slipped into the past,
then it too will determine {a future moment}, though I do not yet know
anything at all about the future.u What is presupposed is thus both what
determines and what is determined. This much is clear: the concept of
a goal is supposed to be what determines an actual act of willing; the act
of willing is supposed to be something determinate, which may well be
able to determine [something else]—though we are not [now] discussing
this. Consequently, {one should once again carefully note that} the con¬
cept of a goal is nothing actual; it is something {that is added to willing
and is} posited merely in order to explain willing. The act of choosing a
concept of a goal from the manifold of what is possible is thought of as
what determines [an act of willing].
[Re. 2, the objective aspect of synthetic thinking:] Second, let us ex¬
amine {the object contained in synthetic thinking, that is,} the act of
thinking which is thought about. {The act of thinking of the concept of
a goal is an act in which the I makes a selection from what is determin¬
able. Accordingly,} the I, in the manner we have posited, is supposed to
exercise its choice (to think) in making a selection from the manifold, in
order to determine itself in such a way that the object it wills will actually
come into being within the sensible world. Accordingly, the choosing
subject36 presupposes itself; it knows in advance {that it is able to deter¬
mine itself,} that it can choose and that it is able to exercise causality.
Therefore, the I is already fully acquainted with itself. In constructing a
concept of a goal, the I presupposes itself. This is an important point!
{The ordinary, commonsense view is that consciousness arises in the
following way: At a certain moment in life (moment A) I construct a con¬
cept of a goal, which I accomplish by making a choice from the manifold.
At another moment (moment B) I actually will this concept of a goal and
act efficaciously.37 On this view, my consciousness begins with this
choice, and in this act of choosing I have in view both the act of willing
and the causal power of the same. Consequently, before the choice, I
must already know that I can will and act efficaciously. The possibility of
choosing presupposes a prior acquaintance with oneself.}
■ First of all, however, we must ask, How—i.e., as what—does the I
necessarily presuppose itself in this act of choosing?v (This question
u One could say that the present moment could also determine something else, a future
moment. Here we do not yet know this, because we are remaining only in the present, and
this is something determinate. Here we are concerned only with the relationship between
the concept of a goal and an act of willing. The concept of a goal is what does the deter¬
mining, and the act of willing is what is determined (p. 193).
36	Reading, with H, “das wählende” for K’s “das Wählen” (“the act of choosing”).
37	“will ich diesen Zweckbegriff wirklich und wirke.”
v How, with respect to the form of the same, does the I necessarily presuppose itself in

376	§ i7
concerns the form of this act; it does not concern itself with what this act
is materialiter.) In this act of choosing, the I itself is merely what is de¬
terminable; it possesses no determinacy. It does not ascribe to itself any
determinate causal power, that is, any particular power to bring about
this or that {specific} result; instead, it simply presupposes that it pos- (1
sesses an overall ability to exercise causality.
If one wishes to take note of [the distinction between] “abstract” and
“concrete” perceptions,38 then one could say that the moment when the
concept of a goal is grasped is an instance of the former. What is in¬
volved here is a concept of my own overall efficacy,39 not a perception of
any specific efficacy. This is the form in which I discover myself when
I construct a concept of a goal. {Here} the I is thought of merely as such
191 or in general; this is an abstract act of thinking, {the essence of which con¬
sists in the fact that all that is present here is the form of determinate
thinking—not, however, any determinacy}. It40 is an act of oscillating be¬
tween or hovering above opposites—yet all the while remaining con¬
scious that these are opposites {and that, therefore, only one of them can
be chosen}. This is precisely the sort of thinking in which I engage when
I construct the concept of a goal for myself. The character of the object
follows from the act of thinking thereof, however, for, {from a Critical
point of view,} an act of thinking and its object are simply two different
ways of looking at one and the same thing. {The object of our abstract
act of thinking was the I, which was therefore just as abstract as the act
of thinking of the object was. The real I41 oscillates between opposites,
yet in such a way that one is chosen and all the rest are excluded.}
■ Everyone will agree, simply on the basis of ordinary common sense
and without any need for recourse to philosophical principles, that no
abstract thinking is possible apart from concrete thinking, {which seems,
so to speak, to precede the former}; abstraction presupposes something
within which what is to be abstracted is first present. Accordingly, the act
of willing presupposed here is something I can infer only insofar as I
the free act of the ideal activity? (p. 194).
38	K: “Man wolle doch ja abstractionen und concrete Wahrheiten bemerken.” Liter¬
ally: “Let us indeed take note of abstractions and of concrete truths.” The translation sub¬
stitutes, with H, “Wahrnehmung” for K’s “Wahrheiten” (“truths”) and emends the rest of
the sentence in the light of the more coherent corresponding passage in H: “Man unter¬
scheide unter abstracter und concreter Wahrnehmung.”
39	“meiner Würksamkeit überhaupt.”
w One should distinguish between abstract and concrete perception. Concrete perception
occurs as a result of an exercise of the will, whereas abstract perception occurs in the very
act of willing. Whenever one chooses anything, one always takes note of the fact that one
could also have willed something else. Therefore, choosing always makes reference to a
doing, which is, therefore, always presupposed in the form of an abstract concept of effi¬
cacy in general, and this abstract concept of efficacy must be posited if a concept of a goal
is to be possible (p. 194).
40	“Es.” This could be construed as referring either to “the act of thinking” or to “the I.”
41	“das reelle Ich.”

§ i7 377
have already encountered it in concrete.42 Abstract thinking {(the sort of
thinking involved in constructing a concept of a goal)} is, {in turn,} re¬
lated to {another,} concrete act of thinking {(that is, to an act of willing)},
and the former is related to the latter in the same way what is condi¬
tioned is related to what conditions it.43 {The act of thinking of a concept
of a goal presupposes an act of willing and an efficacious acting; and I
can presuppose these only insofar as I have already sensed and per¬
ceived myself to be engaged in willing and acting efficaciously.}
■	{Result: Actual} willing presupposes a concept of a goal, and, in turn,
the concept of a goal presupposes an {actual} act of willing—which, in
turn, presupposes a concept of a goal, and so on, ad infinitum. {In this
way,} therefore, we reach no starting point {of consciousness}; one mo¬
ment drives us on to the next, as happened above in the case of [the re¬
lationship between] the concept of cognition and the concept of a goal.x
The present circle, however, lies even deeper than the previous one.
{Here the concept of a goal not only presupposes cognizance of an ob¬
ject, it also presupposes cognizance of a subject, namely, of the subject
here engaged in efficacious acting; and this cognition first becomes pos¬
sible through a preceding act of actual willing.}
■	{We reply to this difficulty as follows:} We have already shown that (195)
one cannot speak of a series of thoughts and their succession [in time] as
if this were something that exists in itself; instead, we can talk only about
an appearance of succession for us. Thus we only think of ourselves as
thinking in time; we are not actually in time. {I can say, “I do not [actu¬
ally] think in the manner just described; I only think of myself as think¬
ing in this manner when I am engaged in synthetic thinking.”} In the act
of synthetic thinking = C, I posit myself as, I discover myself to be, a
subject engaged in willing. I posit A as preceding this act (i.e., A is pre¬
supposed by C).45 Hence it is no wonder that I posit in A whatever is
42	“In a concrete form.”
43	“wie Bedingung zum Bedingten” (“in the same way that a condition is related to what
is conditioned”). Since this claim appears to conflict directly with what is asserted in the
preceding and following sentences, the translation, following Radrizzani’s proposal, inverts
this clause.
x Here we have, once again, the same difficulty as before: no concept of a goal44 without
cognition of an object, and vice versa—though now we encounter it from another side
(p- 194)-
44	“Inbegriff.” From here on, the term Inbegriff (in the sense of “the concept in ques¬
tion”) is occasionally employed in H to refer to “the concept of a goal” (Zweckbegriff), and
certain otherwise virtually identical passages in K and H differ only in that K has Zweck-
begriff where H has Inbegriff (Cp., e.g., H, p. 204: “Nun wird in demselben Acte der ent-
worfene Inbegrif mit gedacht,” and K, p. 197: “nun wird in demselben Acte das Entwerfen
des Zweckbegriffs mitgedacht.”) This small but interesting difference appears to support
the conclusion that H and K stem from different semesters.
45	“diesem setze ich A voraus.” This is a good example of the inadequacy of the custom¬
ary translation of voraussetzen as “to presuppose” which obscures the root meaning: “to
posit in advance.”

378	§ i7
contained in C. I do this because A is nothing more than the act of think¬
ing of constructing the concept of a goal. I posit A as the cause of C in
a purely formal sense,46 without thereby intending to ascribe any deter¬
minate causality to A.
{We have arrived at the following result: All consciousness is possible
only through self-consciousness. My own consciousness of myself is pos¬
sible only through an act of willing. Willing presupposes a concept of a
goal. How is this concept of a goal supposed to be constructed? The con¬
cept of a goal is nothing but an appearance and is thought of only in
conjunction with consciousness of an act of willing, in which case it is
presupposed to have preceded an actual act of willing. Within conscious¬
ness, willing itself is viewed in two different ways:
(1)	As an actual act of willing.
(2)	As an act of constructing a concept of a goal.
The reason willing is viewed in this twofold manner is to be found in
the principle that states that there is nothing determinate without some¬
thing determinable. Something determinate is nothing but [the product
of] an act of thinking of a movement of transition which begins with
something determinable. The act of willing of which one becomes con¬
scious is also something determinate; hence it too must be thought of as
[the product of] a movement of transition from something determin¬
able. What is determinable in this case is the act of constructing a con¬
cept of a goal. Accordingly, no consciousness of anything determinate is
possible unless one at the same time thinks of what is determinable in
this case, and a determinate act of willing cannot be thought of at all
except in the manner indicated, [in conjunction with an act of construct¬
ing a concept of a goal]. Both these acts refer to each other, and the tem¬
poral order comes into being purely through the law stating that there
can be nothing determinate without something determinable. The tem¬
poral order arises by virtue of the dependence of what is determinate
upon what is determinable. What was supposed to have existed previ¬
ously [actually] exists now; it is merely thought of as having previously
existed. Here we can see the higher meaning of the principle that states
that nothing abstract is possible without something concrete: Ordinary
common sense thinks that everything abstract must be preceded by
something concrete and that abstract thinking is abstracted from con¬
crete thinking. From this ordinary point of view, these two acts of think¬
ing are thought of as occurring in two successive moments of time. From
the transcendental point of view, however, both these acts occur in the
same moment of time and are united therein. Concrete [thinking] is
46	“Ich setze es bloß in die Form der Causalität.” More literally: “I posit it merely in the
form of causality.”

§ i7 379
thought of only as a movement of transition from abstract [thinking]. An
act of concrete thinking is an act of determining; but only as an act, as a
process of transition, a flowing forth, which begins with something ab¬
stract (as what is determinable), does this act of determining become an
object of consciousness. In the case before us, the will is what is concrete;
but in the act of constructing the concept of a goal the will is present in (196)
an abstract form. Concrete thinking—in this case, therefore, the act of
willing—is something determinate. But something determinate cannot
be thought of apart from something that determines it. So here too, in
the case of willing: an act of willing can be thought of only as a move¬
ment of transition which begins with a determining subject. Determi¬
nate thinking becomes determinate thinking only through an act of
determining. I determine myself, I observe my own act of determining,
and only in this way does such an act become possible at all. Conse¬
quently, concrete thinking appears in a twofold way:
(1)	As an act of thinking from which one proceeds to an act of abstract
thinking.
(2)	As an act of thinking one arrives at from an act of abstract thinking.
In this manner, we would obtain three different moments of time.
(1)	The moment when the concept of a goal is directed at some
present cognition. This is something concrete.
(2)	The moment when a movement is made from the first moment to
an act of willing. This too is something concrete.
(3)	The moment that lies between the first moment and the second
moment. This is the act of constructing a concept of a goal, and this is
abstract.}
■ (The concept of a goal is directed at some concrete cognition that is
already present, and it leads from there to a determinate, concrete act of
willing.) Only to this extent can one say, “The I discovers itself,” or
rather,47 “The I thinks of itself as discovering itself.”Y If one thinks only
of synthetic thinking, then the I {does not discover itself; it} produces
itself without any consciousness. After both {synthetic and analytic}
thinking have been united, however {(as must also always and necessarily
occur within consciousness)}, then the I discovers itself—if it has already
produced itself.2 {I produce myself in an act of willing, and, in willing, I
presuppose a concept of a goal, though this concept does not occur in
advance, but is merely posited as having already occurred, as what con¬
ditions the act of willing; for by its very nature, an act of willing always
47	Reading, with Radrizzani, “oder eher” for K’s “anstatt” (“instead of’), which is plainly
an error on Krause’s part, as is confirmed by a comparison with the corresponding pas¬
sage in H.
* This is nothing but an appearance, and insofar as one understands this expression
properly, one can say, “The I discovers itself.” To express this point more strictly, one
would say, “The I thinks of itself as discovering itself’ (p. 196).
z after it has already produced itself (p. 196).

380	§ 17
includes the positing of some demand, which, however, can occur only
insofar as some goal is present.}
Remark A: This point is characteristic of the Wissenschaftslehre: {I do
not think within time;} thinking is introduced into time only as a result
of my own act of thinking. My thinking falls within time for me only by
192 virtue of the fact that it becomes an object of my consciousness. This is
a point neglected by Kant,AA since the concept of I-hood was neglected.
{Some people failed to give precise enough thought to the fact that con¬
sciousness is united with every act of the I, and for this reason they were
unable to think of time in the way it is portrayed in the Wissenschaftslehre.
They began with thinking, but} thinking already involves time; conse¬
quently, one can by no means provide a derivation of time if one con¬
fines oneself to a discussion of nothing but thinking. The I itself,
however, does not fall within time, and if one knows that consciousness
accompanies thinking, then one can succeed in providing a derivation of
time. {Only someone who begins with and reflects upon the I, which is
not within time, can derive time. Accordingly, all the advantages we have
here obtained depend upon the concept of I-hood.}
The Wissenschaftslehre itself does not generate any new cognition. It
merely observes the human mind in its original generation of all cogni¬
tion. {The Kantian system also claims to do this, and it really does do so;} (197)
the Kantian system does not carry these observations to their conclu¬
sion, however, unlike the Wissenschaftslehre, {which claims to do so. This is
the source of the distinctive view adopted by the latter system.} Ordi¬
nary, commonsense understanding, on the other hand, does something
and observes only the product of its own doing. {I.e., it considers only
facts within time, without giving any additional thought to the “doing”
that generates the facts occurring within time.} It fails to notice that
through its own doing it also generates time, etc. The Wissenschaftslehre
pays attention to this “doing” itself {and uses it as the basis of its
explanations}. This is the synthesis we have been discussing, and the
Wissenschaftslehre has to display this synthesis independently of analysis,
{through which our thinking is dispersed and which has to be derived
within the Wissenschaftslehre}. Only in this way does it obtain a genetic
understanding of the origin of our representations. Time is the relation¬
ship within which we are required to posit our representations. We ob¬
serve how the law {requiring us to posit our representations in certain
relationships to one another} arises and, along with it, time itself. {As we
shall see,} everything else springs from these temporal relations. This is
the {highest [and]} most important point of {the Wissenschaftslehre, or}
transcendental philosophy. {If you can only understand how time arises,
then you will understand the origin of everything else.}
AA This point is not so clear in Kant (p. 196).

§ 17	3^!
Remark B: Consequently, when the I thinks of itself in the act of syn¬
thetic thinking just described, {in which (unlike the case of analytic
thinking) it produces itself through thinking,} it also thinks of its con¬
sciousness as a whole and {therefore} of its experience in its entirety.
{With its self-production the I simultaneously produces its experience.}
Therefore, it simultaneously thinks of what is intelligible and of what is
empirical (or of what is “a priori,” in the Kantian sense of the term, and
of what is “a posteriori”): these are one and the same thing, simply
viewed from two different sides.BB
Part Two
We are engaged in the presentation of the central thought {of tran¬
scendental idealism}: all consciousness is nothing but self-consciousness.
As part of our presentation of this point, we must provide a genetic
demonstration that—and how—the sort of consciousness with which we
are ordinarily familiar flows from our consciousness of ourselves.cc We
193 have already accomplished some of the preliminary work [required for
this task and have established that] the I is thought of only insofar as
being and thinking are thought of as absolutely identical, or are united
{with each other. According to the published Wissenschaftslehre,}48 ideality (198)
and reality are the same. This, {one should note carefully,} does not
mean that the I’s being and the I’s thinking are thought of as the same,
{[i.e.,] it does not mean that “being” and “thinking” are, as it were, pred¬
icates of the I}; but rather it means that the I itself arises only through
the unification of being and thinking. {Therefore, if one may be permit¬
ted to speak in this way, being and thinking are necessary “ingredients”
of the I.} For the I is not yet presupposed; instead, we first wish to wit¬
ness its origination. This consciousness as a whole and the I are com¬
pletely identical; they are the same thing, simply viewed from two
different sides: within ordinary consciousness {and within experience},
this is an “I”; within transcendental philosophy, this is the identity of be¬
ing and thinking. {We have already demonstrated that the I arises
through the synthesis of being and thinking. We have not yet proven,
BB Thus the intelligible I and the empirical aspect of all experience, i.e., what is a priori
(in the Kantian sense) and what is a posteriori, are entirely the same—merely viewed from
different sides (p. 197).
cc To be sure, we have already presented this point above; here, however, it has to be
demonstrated genetically. We have to specify haw, from the consciousness of ourselves, in ac¬
cordance with the laws of our consciousness, there flaws all the consciousness that, from the ordinary
viewpoint, we consider to be [a consciousness of] something outside of us. This process will here be
clearly expounded (p. 197).
48	See no. 12 of the summary at the end of GWL, § 4 (SW, I: 226).

382	§ 17
however,} that this synthesis constitutes consciousness in its entirety* and
this is what we want to demonstrate [now].DD For this purpose, we have
already established the following: This act of synthesizing being and
thinking is at the same time an act of analysis, and only thereby does an
act of synthesis become possible. The manifolds {of} being and {of}
thinking, along with the unity of the two, are all posited in one and the
same act. If we attend simply to the analysis, we obtain, as it were, two
series, {one on either side of the point of synthetic unity}. Moreover, ev¬
ery individual is an I only insofar as he is thought of; and {he is an in¬
dividual who construes a manifold only insofar as he} is not viewed as
thought of and as generated in a single moment, but rather {insofar as
he is thought of} as discretely dispersed in a temporal series. This dis¬
persed thinking is unified in the highest synthesis. {Therefore, this can
be expressed more precisely as follows:} My immediate act of thinking
does not occur within time at all; by means of this immediate act of
thinking, however, my mediated thinking is posited within time.
{Thinking does not occur within time, but when we, in turn, think about
thinking, we view it as taking place within time. We have observed the
concept of a goal and the act in which it is constructed: this was the most
natural path we could follow in order to obtain a field for the present
investigation. (For reasons that will soon become evident, however, we (199)
will, from now on, be unable to progress any farther along this path.)}
Preliminary Remark
Within the act of synthetic thinking a manifold is thought of {not syn¬
thetically, but} as a multiplicity of discrete {acts of thinking}. In asserting
this, however, we hovered above the act of synthetic thinking itself,
which was the object [of our thinking]. Let us now descend to the stand¬
point of synthetic thinking itself, which should become the subjective el¬
ement that we imitate. The manifold is now to be considered as such,
{[i.e.,] as multiple and discrete,} and we will focus our attention upon the
characteristic differences {between the various acts of thinking united in
synthetic thinking}. We must now49 constantly keep an eye on the points
of unity between each of these acts of thinking and all the others, {and in
this way we will again discover the act of synthetic thinking. In conjunc¬
tion with our previous analysis of synthetic thinking, we assumed an act
of synthetic thinking as something with which we were already familiar
(= A), which we then proceeded to dissolve into its constituent parts. We
now wish to examine these individual elements more closely and to ob-
DD We have two propositions: (1) Self-consciousness is one with all other consciousness;
(2) Self-consciousness is the identity of thinking and being. It is the first of these propo¬
sitions which has to be demonstrated here (p. 198).
49	Reading, with H, “nun” for K’s “nur” (“only”).

§ >7	383
serve how each of them is incomplete on its own and becomes complete
only through something else.} In this manner, we will once again arrive
at the act of synthetic thinking and will reassemble from its parts the act
that we have gone through merely analytically.
(1) A general regulative principle {must be established}. Here we will be
examining a discrete, dispersed type of thinking; {therefore,} we will
have to display a variety of specific acts of thinking, which nevertheless
are supposed to be synthetically united with one another in such a way
that none of them is possible apart from the others. As we examine each
of these individual acts of thinking, we will have to determine how it is
connected to the synthetic period of which it is a part, as well as how a
transition is made from it to another act of thinking. The particular, dis¬
crete act of thinking constitutes the immediate object {of our investiga¬
tion, and the element50 connecting one of these discrete acts of thinking
with another can be called} what mediates this synthesis. {The immedi¬
ate object must not be confused with the mediating element; therefore,}
we must now describe {the characteristic differences between} these
components.
■ All thinking is an active determining, and hence a movement of
transition from determinability to determinacy. Only insofar as we think
of a particular state of the I in this way [that is, as a movement of tran¬
sition from determinability to determinacy] will what we are thinking of
be an act of thinking on the part of the I. Consequently, since it is an act
of thinking on the part of the I, the act of objective thinking with which
we are here concerned is an act of self-determining. The essence of a
discrete [act of objective thinking], therefore, is that the I appears to be
completely determined in this case.EE The mediating element, which is
related to a discrete act of objective thinking as what conditions it, would
therefore occur in the preceding moment of time, {if the concept of time (200)
were here applicable. For example,} we have before us [an act of syn¬
thetic thinking = ] A. This is not, as it were, any particular act of think¬
ing, {and is not determined by itself,} but is simply the synthetic unity of
the discrete act of thinking a, b, etc. What we wish to investigate now is
not A itself, but {the parts of the same, that is,} a, b, etc., which we wish
to consider individually and in the most convenient order. {We can con¬
sider any part we wish;} for example, let us suppose that I am now con¬
sidering a. {First of all,} I must indicate what kind of an act of thinking
50	“das Glied.” Throughout the following discussion, Fichte employs the term died
(translated here as “element” or “term”) to designate the individual acts of thinking (= a,
b, a, (3) which, in their unity, constitute the act of synthetic thinking (= A).
EE The I is engaged in an act of determining, and, since the I is supposed to be the think¬
ing subject itself, as well as an active subject, it is engaged in actively determining itself.
Consequently, in the act of objective thinking we are now examining, the I appears to be
completely determined (p. 199).

384	§ i7
this is. This will be of no help [by itself], however, since a is being con¬
sidered here not as something that exists in and for itself, but rather as
a single point within a total synthesis. Accordingly, it [also] has to be
shown how a is connected to b, a, P, etc., and this is how I have to arrive
at A {= the synthetic period}. I thus have to attend to two different
things: first of all, to what a is by itself, and second, what it is in relation
to a, P, etc.FF It is necessary to distinguish these two questions from each
other. What truly constitutes a is posited last.51 What is immediately
present and connects a to b, to c, etc., in such a way that a becomes a part
of a synthetic [period = A] {is not completely determinate; instead, it} is
related to a as what conditions it and {is thought of as} preceding it in
time. {The will is what is completely determinate. (We are not here con¬
cerned with the question of whether or not the will, in turn, may not also
determine what succeeds it.)} The concept of a goal is related in just this
way {(as what determines it)} to the incompleteness of the will, which is
what makes it impossible to account for the will on the basis of itself
alone; the concept of a goal conditions the will52 {and completely ex¬
plains it}.
[II. Concerning the Series of Real Thinking]
195	(2) Here we begin our examination of the real series. To make our ac¬
count easier to follow, let us designate the central synthesis, {[that is,] the
synthetic period,} A; let us designate the immediately adjacent, real el¬
ement b; and let us designate the extreme or outermost real term on this
side, which is connected to b, g. Looking at the other, {ideal} side of the
synthesis, let us designate the immediately adjacent {ideal} element P
and the outermost {ideal} element, {which is connected to P,} as y. Let us
now reflect upon b as a particular act of thinking: the act of thinking of
a real object [= g] that is supposed to be produced by the causality of the
will. Considered in this way, b is obviously an act of real thinking.53 We
FF First of all, we must consider what is contained in this a, and then we must treat this
a as a point within the entire synthesis. This is of paramount importance, for it is in this
way that we will be able to see how a is connected with the rest of the parts and how the
synthetic period (= A) is produced thereby. Consequently, we must observe what is con¬
tained in a and how this is connected with everything else (p. 200).
51	“der eigentliche Bestandtheil von a ist das zulezt bestimmt.”
52	“so ist der Zweckbegriff und die Unvollständigkeit des Willens <nach> der er nicht
aus sich selbst erklärt werden kann ist das bedingende zum Willen.” The translation of this
obscure passage is conjectural. Radrizzani construes it as follows: “what conditions the will
is the concept of a goal and the incompleteness of the will, which is what makes it impos¬
sible to account for the will on the basis of itself alone.”
53	“eines realen Denkens.” I.e., this is an act of thinking which has as its object some¬
thing real (rather than something ideal, such as a concept of a goal). As Fichte explains
below, the immediate object of all “real thinking” is a feeling.

§ i7 385
must distinguish this act of thinking, considered by itself,54 from that
through which it is connected with something else, {[namely,] with the
other acts of thinking}. This act itself is not difficult to describe: [when¬
ever we think of a real object,] we discover that our thinking is con¬
strained, {and feels itself to be constrained, because this is an act of real
thinking}. A certain feeling is connected with b, and, in relation to the
act of thinking, this is a feeling of having to think in a certain way. This
feeling is supposed to produce a certain act of thinking: the thought that
this feeling could not be produced simply by thinking, etc. (See above.)
{As we already know, we are now involved in the synthesis of what we
previously analyzed. We spoke of a first, real element, which is attached
to the synthetic period. This element was b. We have already indicated
what is supposed to be thought-of within b: namely, a real object that is
brought into being by the causal power of our will. This raises the ques¬
tion: through what does b become an act of real thinking? This occurs by
virtue of a feeling that is connected with the act of thinking. Every in- (201)
dividual element of the act of synthetic thinking thus contains some¬
thing twofold:
(1)	The actual act of thinking.
(2)	That through which this act of thinking is connected to the other
acts of thinking.
This is precisely the situation with this act of thinking (= b), as we
have already shown.}
What kind of thinking is connected with and conditions the act of
thinking we have just described and connects it with the [synthetic] pe¬
riod [= A]?
What connects b to A is the fact that the I is supposed to determine
this object [the object that is thought of in b] by means of the concept of
a goal. {Or, expressed in a popular fashion: an object is connected with
self-consciousness only insofar as the object in question is supposed to be
produced and determined by me. Thinking of an object is thus a medi¬
ated act of thinking.} What mediates55 {thinking}, generally speaking,
{and in this specific case, is the I, thought of as a subject that determines
an object by means of its concept of a goal. This} is the medium through
which the I views the object and is, so to speak, the eye [of the 1].
{The transcendental philosopher expresses this point as follows: All
consciousness is self-consciousness; but in order for any consciousness of
myself to be possible, another sort of consciousness must be connected
with self-consciousness. Thus I see all things within myself and through
myself: this is the proposition we have to demonstrate. In b, we have a
consciousness of this sort, that is, a consciousness of a real object. The
consciousness of the actuality of this object is thought of only by means
54	“der eigentliche Denkact.”
55	K: “Diese Vermittelung.” Literally: “this mediation.”

386	§ i7
of my own efficacy, as the medium through which I think of the former.
I have knowledge of an object only because I am what determines it.
Consider, for example, a sculptor who carves the form of a god from a
block of marble (or any other material—this is irrelevant to our inquiry,
which is concerned only with the form of this activity). When he does
this, he is immediately conscious that he determines the form in ques¬
tion; in contrast, his consciousness of the form of this or that specific
god, which is what he wants to produce, is an indirect or mediated con¬
sciousness. He sees this specific form only through the medium of his
own productive activity.} Through the very process of producing some¬
thing, I see what is produced. {I have no immediate knowledge whatso¬
ever of objects;} the sole thing of which I have any immediate knowledge
is my own productive act, {and I obtain an object only by looking at my
productive act in a certain way}—just as, in mathematics, proofs are ac¬
complished by means of construction, {and [one] catches sight of the
truth through one’s very act of producing the proof. This also describes
our own original situation: we find something to be constituted in a par¬
ticular way because we view it through the medium of our own produc¬
tive act.56
With this, we return to our inquiry:} The I, as the determining sub¬
ject, is what mediates the representation of something accomplished by
me. How is the I thought of when it is thought of as a determining sub¬
ject? {In other words, what act of thinking gives rise to the [thought of
the] I, as a determining subject?} We now wish to provide a genetic de¬
scription of how we become conscious of something that has been pro¬
duced. The I {is the determining subject, and it} immediately witnesses
and observes its own act of determining; moreover, within the I’s con¬
sciousness, something determinate is connected with this act of deter¬
mining and modifying. Everything can be looked at {by the 1} either (202)
objectively or subjectively;57 {so here too:} whenever I observe my own
act of determining, I must at the same time catch sight of something de¬
terminate. What is determinate is thought in accord with the act of de¬
termining, which is, {so to speak,} what “lies above” and is immediately
present;58 {whereas the object itself “lies below” and is viewed through
the medium of the act of determining}. This relationship [between the
act of determining and what is determinate] means that the reason why
the object is constituted as it is must lie within the I’s own act of deter¬
mining or in its concept of a goal; the latter is supposed to be the
“ground” of the former. This {provides us with a genetic understanding
56	“daß etwas für uns so gemacht sey, liegt darinn, daß wir es durch unser machen hin¬
durch so erblicken.” Note that machen (“to make”) is here translated as “productive act” or
“productive activity.”
57	“Alle Ansicht ist subjectiv oder objectiv.” H: “die Ansicht des Ich ist subjectiv objectiv.”
58	“Ersteres ist das obenliegende unmittelbare.” Radrizzani suggests, quite plausibly, that
the terms “above” and “below” here refer to a diagram drawn by Fichte on the blackboard.

§ i7 3^7
of) how we become aware of the “grounding principle” or “principle of
sufficient reason”59 {and of what this principle means). This principle des¬
ignates precisely this relationship [between the I’s act of determining
and what it determines].
■ {We have now arrived at the deduction of the categories and will
begin with the category of “ground.”} Simply by analyzing this relation¬
ship [of “ground” to “consequent” or “cause” to “effect”], we will find
that within it one distinct thing is thought of through another. {The ef¬
fect is thought of through the cause, and the cause is thought of through
196 the effect.) Therefore, like all categories, this category contains a medi¬
ated act of thinking, {an act of thinking in which one thing is thought of
through the mediation of another). To be sure, when we engage in dis¬
cursive thinking we can either^ ascend {from the cause to the effect) or
descend {from the effect to the cause). However, {this is not true of the
original act of thinking, which must, on the contrary, be thought of as
follows:} in this original act of thinking we assume that it is the cause
that makes the effect what it is, that being first arises from the cause and
then develops further as a result of the same. This act of thinking begins
with the act of thinking of myself. I originally discover myself as a willing
subject, from which there follows some efficacious acting.00 Since there
cannot be an act of determining apart from something determinate, this
efficacious acting that lies within me is necessarily connected with some¬
thing accomplished thereby,60 {something that lies outside of me. My in¬
ternal efficacious acting is something subjective, something that
determines; but there can be nothing subjective without something ob¬
jective, nor can there be anything that determines apart from something
that is determined. Consequently, I must posit something of the latter
sort in addition to my own efficacious acting, and this is what is affected
or accomplished thereby.) The relationship in question is thus one in
which the determining subject serves as the medium through which
what is determined is observed. {The former is the cause of the latter,
even though, from the transcendental viewpoint, these are one and the
same.)
One might want to say that the ground is what determines what is
grounded and provides the latter with its quantity. {Ultimately, and
strictly speaking,} however, the Wissenschaftslehre has no knowledge of
“what determines” and “what is determined,” considered as objects; in¬
stead, it has knowledge only of an act of thinking, {through which an¬
other act of thinking obtains its quantity; moreover, it has knowledge of
59	“So kommt der Satz des Grundes in das Gemüth.” Satz des Grundes is the ordinary Ger¬
man name for “the principle of sufficient reason.”
GG Instead, we must think that being proceeds from the effect to the cause. The cause
begins with the act of thinking of myself as a willing subject, and, through this act of will¬
ing what is intelligible is made real, i.e., an effect is produced (p. 202).
“an dieses in mir liegendes Würken knüpft sich nothwendig an ein bewürktes.”

388	§ i7
this act of thinking only insofar as it does determine the quantity of an¬
other. Accordingly, an act of thinking of something determined or de¬
terminate must arise in conjunction with an act of thinking of
something that determines.} We have already explained why this must
occur, for this is a condition for the possibility of self-consciousness,
which is a subject-object; {and this division appears everywhere}. Every¬
thing established here is simply part of that synthesis through which
alone an I can come into being for me. So much for the form {by means (203)
of which an act of thinking occurring within me is connected with the
act of thinking of an object that is supposed to lie outside of me}. I.e., so
much for the question, How is the act of thinking of something deter¬
minate connected with the act of thinking of something that determines
it? Now let us turn to a consideration of the content involved.
■	We are familiar with the distinction between the concept of a goal
{(the determining agency)61} and a real object, and our view of the latter
is mediated by the former. A concept of a goal is something produced
purely by thinking. A real object is supposed to be the opposite, {[i.e.,] it
is supposed to be something that lies outside of thinking}. This has im¬
portant consequences. First of all, what is objective and real {in the ob¬
jective constitution62 [of things] is supposed to lie} outside of thinking.
But where, outside of thinking, does this lie? [Answer:] It exists in and
for feeling. An act of real thinking must be an act of thinking of a feel¬
ing; {it must be a portrayal63 of feeling,} since ideal thinking only thinks
of and portrays itself. {A real act of thinking is supposed to copy an ob¬
ject, and this object is a feeling.}
■	Here, accordingly, is {the place where the act of going beyond the
concept of a goal (as the determining agency) to the constitution of an
object (as what is determined) occurs; here is} the place where thinking
goes outside of itself, refers to something beyond itself, and becomes64
objective thinking—or, more precisely, intuition. One can summarize
the entire task of the Wissenschaftslehre in this single question: How does
the I manage to go outside of itself? This too occurs through mediation;
namely, when the I first departs from its original and purest [state], that
is, from thinking, and then proceeds from there to feeling. {With this,
however, the I does not yet get outside of itself, for a feeling lies within
the I.} Feeling is what mediates this process through which the I
197	emerges from itself and assumes the existence of an external world.HH
Here then is the place where something that is in no sense whatsoever
an act of thinking becomes connected with pure thinking. Here is a pro¬
gression from thinking to feeling.
61	“dem bestimmenden.”
62	“in der objectiven Beschaffenheit.”
63	“Darstellung.”
64	Reading, with H, “wird” for K’s “ist” (“is”).
HH [. . . ] and assumes the existence of an object (p. 203).

§ .7	389
{The objective constitution of a thing is supposed to be observed by
means of the concept in question [i.e., the concept of a goal]; objectivity
exists only insofar as it arises from a feeling and refers to a feeling.}
When we examine this even more closely, however, it does not appear
that our account can hold water; for it is most unlikely that a mere act of
thinking, {such as that of thinking of the concept of a goal,} could con¬
tain within itself the basis for a feeling.11
{To this, we reply as follows:} In and by means of the act of thinking
just described (= b), the determining I65 itself becomes something
other; it is thereby, as it were,66 made sensible and becomes a sensuous
force or energy. {This does not occur, however, through the mere act of
thinking of the concept of a goal; instead, it occurs through the deter-
minacy of a sensuous force.} It is by means of the determinacy of this
sensuous force or energy that the concept of a goal is now supposed to
become a cause. {For example, let us say that I carve a statue of Mercury.
I become conscious of this Mercury only in consequence of the fact that
I have constructed a concept of the statue of Mercury that I am going to
make. Is this true? By no means; the statue of Mercury does not imme¬
diately spring into being for me simply because I construct a concept of
it. Instead, I must first employ tools, and this is how the statue comes
into being. Accordingly, even my labor [of carving] is nothing but yet an- (204)
other way of looking at the concept of a goal; indeed, it is the sensibilized
aspect of the latter.} Later on we will provide a genetic account of how
this transformation {of the concept of goal (something purely thought
of) into something sensible} occurs. First, however, we have to demon¬
strate that such a transformation must occur; that is, we have to show
that the state of the thinking subject at this moment { = b, where the I is
thinking of an objective property,67} is, nevertheless, a state of real, sen¬
suous thinking.68 Furthermore, since the constructed concept of a
goal69 is also thought of in this same act, and since it is only by means of
this concept of a goal that we are able to observe the constitution of the
object,70 it follows that the concept of a goal must also be made sensible
in this act of thinking. Consequently, a division arises once again, and
the I appears under two different aspects: in part, as the concept of a
"[...] could contain the basis for something outside of itself, something not contained
within thinking (p. 203).
65	Reading, with H, “das bestimmende Ich” for K’s “Das Bestimmen des Ich” (“the I’s act
of determining”).
66	Reading, with H, “gleichsam” for K’s “jedenfalls” (“in any case”).
67	“einer objektiven Beschaffenheit.”
68	“eines reellen sinnlichen Denkens.” A state of “sensuous” (or “sensible”) thinking is
one in which the thinking subject is thinking of something apprehended through the
senses. Hence “sensuous thinking” = “real thinking.”
69	Reading, with H, “der entworfene Inbegrif” for K’s “das Entwerfen des Zweckbe-
griffs” (“the act of constructing a concept of a goal”).
70	“die Beschaffenheit des Objects.”

390	§ i7
goal and, in part, as a sensuous forced These two aspects are united
with and distinguished from each other inasmuch as two different acts
of thinking occur: pure thinking and sensuous thinking. These asser¬
tions are historically familiar, and the same claim was encountered ear¬
lier in our inquiry: What is my body? It is nothing but a certain way of
looking at the causal power I exercise as an intellect. {I am originally an
intellect; therefore, my causal power is, in this respect, an act of produc¬
ing something from concepts.} Consequently, my body would be some¬
thing produced by concepts, because it is by means of an act of sensuous
thinking that I would think of myself as a body, extended in space and
transformed into matter.KK {Therefore, because this is an act of sensu¬
ous thinking, the concept of a goal by means of which I view my own
body must also be encountered in a sensible form.}
The relationship between the determining subject and what is deter¬
mined still remains to be explained. Insofar as I am an intellect, I myself
am supposed to be the determining subject. My view of the object is me¬
diated through my concepts, {and not vice versa}. This is a relationship
of dependence, for the object in this case is dependent upon my concept
of a goal. This relationship is certainly encountered within experience,
{and it must manifest itself within experience, for otherwise I would not
be able to think of myself at all. I am the cause of the act of thinking
about my own efficacy; all efficacy proceeds from me. I do not make a
certain decision because of the particular character of some object; in¬
stead, this object has the particular character it has because I make a
certain decision.} The concept that has now been derived is the concept
of a real ground, for this transformation [of ideal thinking] into sensuous
thinking does occur, {[and] a thing is “realized” or made real insofar as
this transformation71 occurs within sensuous thinking}. The relation¬
ship in question is that of causality.
198	■ {Since we have now reached the categories, we want to ask,} What is (205)
a “category”? Kant claimed that he was in possession of a definition of
this term but did not wish to state it, in order not to expose himself to
certain avoidable objections.72 Kant is an honorable man, and we must
take him at his word on this. We can also certainly appreciate these dif¬
ficulties {that drove him to keep silent}, for Kant was anxious to ex¬
pound his idealism in a form that would not raise suspicion. This
becomes quite clear; for when one compares the different editions of the
Here, therefore, we have a division, a duality contained within the concept of a goal,
insofar as it: (1) enables us to go beyond the intelligible series, and (2) enables us to refer
to sensible objects. The latter is a sensible or sensuous force (p. 204).
KK And indeed, my body is something produced by concepts, but it is viewed in a very
different light, for it is a concept that has become sensible. My body would thus be the
power to extend the properties of things into space (p. 204).
71	Reading, with K, “Verwandlung” for H’s “Vereinigung” (“unification”).
72	See KRV, A82/B108-A83/B109.

§ i7 391
[first] Critique, one finds that Kant has retreated somewhat in the second
edition.LL If, however, he had had sufficient confidence in his own fa¬
cility for linguistic expression, then he would not have had to restrain
himself in this way. If he had supplied the definition of the categories,
then his system would have appeared in an entirely different light.
■	{The Wissenschaftslehre has no difficulty with this point and finds it
easy to provide a definition of a category.} The categories are the ways in
which immediate consciousness becomes mediate or indirect conscious¬
ness. They are the ways in which the I goes beyond simply thinking of
itself and thinks of something else. They do not merely serve, as it were,
to tie together {what is manifold}; they are also the means by which
something simple is made manifold and appears in a dual manner.
■	The category of causality connects a concept of a goal with some real
property, as something determined.73 {All consciousness is self-
consciousness. This is the foundation of the Wissenschaftslehre. Yet an¬
other sort of consciousness is certainly encountered within experience.
Where does this come from? It arises from the fact that the I observes
itself as something manifold, and it does this in accordance with certain
specific rules, i.e., in accordance with laws. The categories are these ways
and means by which the I splits itself up and divides itself into a mani¬
fold—though in such a way that it nevertheless continues to remain a
unity. There are, however, a variety of different ways of unifying the
multiplicity contained in the primary synthesis.} There are three basic
categories: substantiality, causality, and reciprocal interaction. The catego¬
ries74 of relation are the only basic ones; the others do not belong here.
I discover myself to be a willing subject (fundamental law) only insofar
as something really does come into being by means of my concept [of a
goal]. This is the law of my sensuous cognition. The actuality in question
exists only insofar as it is supposed to exist by means of my concept; ac¬
cordingly, it is observed only insofar as my concept is intuited as pos¬
sessing causal power, i.e., only insofar as something is posited by the
category [of causality], which thereby becomes productive. The thought
of an effect is first added to that of a concept, thought of as something
that exercises an effect. Something comes into being by means of the cat¬
egory [of causality].
{We established synthesis A, within which we discovered a double se¬
ries: an ideal one and a real one. We began our examination with the
LL He was afraid to lay his transcendental idealism before the scrutiny of the public, and
perhaps the source of the difficulty was that he lacked sufficient confidence in the expres¬
sive power of language to defend him against the objections that would have followed.
Moreover, in the subsequent editions of the Critique of Pure Reason, Kant mixed up every¬
thing that was contained in the first edition and betrayed transcendental idealism (p. 205).
73	“die Kategorie der Causalitat ist; da an den Zweckbegriff eine Reele Beschaffenheit
als etwas bestimmtes gekniift wird.”
74	Reading “Kategorien” for “Kategorie” (“category”).

392	§ 17
series of the real, and indeed, with point b = the representation of a real
object produced by the causality of our will. We then viewed this repre- (206)
sentation through the medium of our own act of determining, as a de-
terminacy produced by us. Our own act of determining (= ß) is
therefore for us the ideal element that is immediately adjacent to the
point of synthetic unity [ = A] in our synthesis. As should be clear from
what has already been said,} ß itself can be looked at in {two} different
ways: as determining [something else] by means of sensuous energy, and
as determining [something else] simply be means of thinking. What we
have shown is that the latter sort of determining (through mere think¬
ing) must transform itself into the former sort of determining (through
sensuous energy), {but we have not yet shown how this occurs}.
199	(3) The concept of a goal, or the I’s act of determining, appears in two
different guises: {(a)} on the one hand, it appears as something purely
ideal, {as a concept, as the act of constructing a concept of a goal; {(ß)} on
the other, it appears as something real, by virtue of physical energy.
{These are both aspects of the same I.} The reason [for this duality] has
already been indicated: this act is ideal insofar as it is considered from
the standpoint of the I as an intellect {(it is the I’s act of determining
itself)}, and it is real insofar as it is related to some effect within the sen¬
sible world. Consequently, we would already have something twofold
within the real series: the physical energy {of the 1} and the feeling that
is thereby produced within the I itself.MM
{Subsidiary remark:} The primary synthesis (= A) consists in the unifi¬
cation of what is ideal and what is real. The immediately adjacent, real
element in this primary synthesis would here be the physical force or
energy of the I itself, {with which the real object was united;} and our
present task would be to unite the mere concept of a goal with this real
energy, {in such a way that the physical energy would obtain a purpose¬
ful direction only when viewed through the mediation of the act of con¬
structing the concept of a goal75}. We said, “It is only in consequence of
something else that you observe what you have produced within the sen¬
sible world.” In a certain sense, I can say, “There is no consciousness of
a sensible world,76 no consciousness of a sensible product; instead, there
is merely a higher consciousness, which transforms itself into the
former.” {Thus, for example, I have no [immediate] consciousness of the
sensible [statue of] Mercury [I carve] nor of the letters [I write]; instead,
I am [directly] conscious only of my labor [of carving] or of my writing.
Through the mediation of such consciousness, I see a sensible Mercury
MM [. . . ] and the objective element that we have produced, which is a feeling (p. 206).
75	“wie nur durch das entwerfen des Zweckbegrifs eine zweckmäßige Richtung der phy¬
sischen Kraft hindurch gesehen werde.”
76	Reading, with H, “Sinnenwelt” for K’s “Sensibilität” (“sensibility”).
I

§ i7 393
or a [written] letter. The latter, as determinate, are synthetically con¬
nected with the acts of laboring and writing, as what determines them.
This raises another question:} Am I, for example, [directly] conscious of
my own act of writing or of the labor involved in [carving something
from] a block [of marble]? By no means. Such consciousness {too} is al¬
ways conditioned by a higher consciousness; it is mediated by the act of
constructing a concept of a goal. {Sensible acting too is nothing but an (207)
appearance. Nothing is immediate and secure but pure thinking itself,
which alone possesses an objectivity that is made sensible and becomes a
sensible doing, to which an object is then connected.} Consequently,
some intermediate element intervenes between the concept of a goal
and what is accomplished by means of this concept. This mediating el¬
ement is the physical energy that is conditioned by pure thinking,NN
though we will not turn immediately to a discussion of this.
■ From the preceding, we obtain the following result: Whenever I
think of an object, what I immediately intuit is an act of determining my
own physical energy. {This energy is the determining agency; and, in
accordance with the law governing the relationship of the determin¬
ing agency to what is determined, I think, in addition, of the proper¬
ties of the object that are produced by my act of thinking.} But this
physical energy is mine {and is an object of my consciousness} only in¬
sofar as I view it too through the mediation of the concept of a goal.
{This physical energy is related to the concept of a goal in the same way
that an object is related to this physical energy. Our view of the physical
energy is mediated by the concept of goal, and the object is mediated by
the physical energy.} Accordingly, the chief question is this: How does a
simple act of sheer thinking become sensible and acquire the aspect of a
sensuous force? This {is the basic question concerning every instance in
which anything is made sensible, for this} is the first instance in which
something is made sensible; therefore, this leads us to the theory of the
productive imagination, {which is perhaps the most difficult, though indis¬
putably most important, portion of the Wissenschaftslehre).
[III. Theory of the Productive Imagination]
In order to prepare the way for such a theory, we must first investigate
something else. {First of all,} let us actually orient ourselves {so we can
see where we stand}. The sort of thinking we have here been discussing
was a real act of thinking {of an object}. Such thinking is mediated by
another act of thinking, the act of thinking of the determinacy of an
NN This mediating element is the sensuous energy mediated by the concept of a goal
(p. 207).

394	§ i7
200	efficaciously acting, sensuous energy.77 This sensuous energy is also
ideal in a certain respect; accordingly, we here have a synthesis of what
is ideal and what is real.
{Observation: A primary feature of the Wissenschaftslehre is that what it
establishes is by no means some dead repository of concepts, but instead
something living and self-active. For this reason, even the meanings of
words are allowed, as it were, to undergo a certain amount of alteration
within this system. This is what has occurred in the case of the terms
“ideal” and “real.”} The concepts “ideal” and “real” possess only relative
validity. {To be sure, there is something purely and simply ideal and
something else purely and simply real: the former is what is intelligible
and the latter is dead matter.} Between these, there lies an intermediary
sphere, the elements of which can be considered to be {in a certain (208)
respect} ideal and {in another respect} real, depending upon whether
one relates them to what follows them, {to what is purely ideal,} or to
what precedes them, {to what is purely real.
This is also the situation we encounter here. I view the letters I write
to be something real and objective. (Granted, with respect to their form,
I could also consider them to be something ideal; but we will ignore this
for the moment.) I view these letters to be real, however, only by means
of the determinacy of my physical energy, i.e., through my act of writ¬
ing. Accordingly, the determinacy of my physical energy is something
ideal—namely, in relation to the letters that are viewed as real. Looked
at in a different way, on the other hand, this same determinate energy is
something real—namely, in relation to nothing but the pure concept of
a goal. Consequently, the claim, “You do not see the letters, but only
your act of writing them,” contains within itself a synthesis of ideality
and reality, in which the act of writing is what is ideal and the written
letters are what is real.} This synthesis {of the determinacy of the sen¬
suous energy} and the determinacy {of the real object78 79 is related to and}
is in turn mediated by another synthesis, within which the pure act of
thinking of a concept of a goal is accomplished.79, 00 {Therefore, when
we connect the previously designated elements b, a, (3, and y with one
another, we are not simply connecting individual elements with one an¬
other; we are connecting syntheses with syntheses, which is also what oc-
77	“es ist vermittelt durch das Denken der Bestimmtheit, einer verursachenen sinnlichen
Kraft.”
78	K: “Diese Synthesis und ihre Bestimmtheit.” Literally: “This synthesis, along with its
determinacy.” Cp. H: “Diese Synthesis der Bestimmtheit der sinnlichen Kraft, mit der Be¬
stimmtheit des realen Objekts.”
79	K actually has “vermittelt ist” (“is mediated”), which makes little sense in this context.
Following Radrizzani’s proposal, which is based upon the larger context, as well as the
sense of the corresponding passage in H, the translation substitutes “accomplished” for
“mediated.”
00 [. . . ] mediated by another synthesis, namely, the synthesis that is involved in the act
of constructing the pure thought of a concept of a goal, considered as nothing but an act
of pure thinking (p. 208).

§ i7 395
curs when we synthetically unite something determinate with what
mediates [its determinacy].} We can see that instead of sticking to our
previously announced plan of connecting one individual act of thinking
with another, we will be presenting nothing but syntheses.
{Dogmatism always remains present so long as one continues to think
of thinking as an act in which we think of some determinate object that
simply lies there before us. Our thinking always involves a connection, a
movement of thought in a certain direction,80 an act of synthesis, with¬
out which there could be no thinking at all. For this reason, the content
of our thoughts is never anything taken by itself,81 but is always a rela¬
tionship between two things. This is why it might appear at first glance
as if we first think separately of the two elements P and b and then relate
them to each other; whereas, when we look more closely, we can see that
neither P nor b exists [by itself]. P and b are, in turn, syntheses them¬
selves and are related to other syntheses that lie even deeper. Conse¬
quently, we never have anything but interrelated syntheses.}
■ The mediating synthesis, by means of which the determinacy of the
physical energy is supposed to be determined, would now be the act of
constructing a concept of a goal. This synthesis contains within itself the
following: (1) the constructive, active subject, over against which there
stands, insofar as this subject is an intellect {engaged in an act of pure
thinking}, the active, sensuous energy; (2) what is determined [in this
act] and possesses the actual concept of a goal. {I engage in deliberation
and grasp a concept of a goal. Within this act, we must distinguish: (1)
my act of constructing, that is, my agility; (2) the fact that I possess a (209)
goal.} Each of these is made possible only by the other, and, in a certain
respect, this relationship is one of ideality and reality. {The former, the
act of constructing [a concept of a goal], would be the [ideal or] subjec¬
tive element. The latter, the concept that has been constructed, would be
the real or objective element.} Nevertheless, one should not yet treat the
objectivity involved in this act as something sensible, for here we are
talking about nothing but thinking itself, as something that is arrested
and persists,82 and these two [ideal and real aspects of thinking] obvi¬
ously go together. In constructing [a concept of a goal], {as what is ideal,}
one looks toward a future concept of a goal; {indeed, it is for the sake of
this future goal that reason engages in an act of choosing}. Therefore,
what one has in view in the real [series]83 is the determinate concept of
a goal, once the latter has been grasped. {Both these elements must
be found together, for neither makes any sense apart from the other. I
80	“ein Hindenken.”
81	“deswegen ist der Inhalt aller unserer Gedanken, nie etwas fur sich.”
82	“es ist bloP von Anhalten und Bestehen des Denkens die Rede.” Cp. H: “von einem
Anhalten und Stehen des Denkens” (“of an arresting and abiding of thinking”).
83	K: “Im Realen ist der aufgefafke bestimmte Begriff vom Zwecke.” H: “Im realen ists
[. . . ].” Reading, with H, “ists” for K’s “ist” and taking “es” to refer (albeit ungrammati¬
cally) to “die Aussicht.”

396	§ >7
cannot make any choice unless I can think of some goal, and I can think
of a goal only insofar as I can exercise choice. On the other hand, I can
be conscious of a goal only insofar as I have chosen it. Whichever direc¬
tion we look, we find that the thought of a goal and that of a choice al¬
ways refer to one another. On every side, therefore, there is an identity
of what is ideal and what is real. Thus} we could say that the I comes into
being for itself by means of a synthesis of itself as something ideal (a
purely thinking subject) with itself as something real (a feeling subject).
{The chief principle is this: I-hood is self-relation. Ideality and reality
are totally united. We also said that the I is an identity of mind and body,
a subject-objectivity Some people maintain that I am my soul, while others
claim that I am my body. We will pay no heed to either of these parties.
We assert that the I is neither soul nor body; instead, these are [an] I
only in the union of both. This union by means of which the I comes into
being is not a union of a simple subjective element with a simple objec¬
tive one, for both the subject and the object involved in this synthesis
are, in turn, a synthesis of what is ideal and what is real. In this act,
therefore, a manifold is united with a manifold.
Let us think of two series: an ideal one and a real one. For “ideal se¬
ries” let us substitute “mind” or “spirit,” and for “real series” let us sub¬
stitute “body.” The I arises from the union of these two. Nevertheless, in
order to be able to bring this union into existence, I have to think of each
of these elements as a part of the I. I must think of myself as a mind; in
addition, I must think of myself as a body—i.e., I must think of each of
these individually and apart from the other. On the other hand, I cannot
think of myself as a part of the I—that is to say, I cannot think of myself
as a mind or as a body—apart from a synthesis of what is subjective and
what is objective. Consequently, different syntheses, i.e., different man¬
ifolds, are united with each other in the union of ideality and reality, by
means of which the I comes into being. Only when viewed in this twofold
light do the mind and the body come into being for me, and only in the
union of both do I become an I for myself.
This, however, is no more than a figure of speech, a sensible expres¬
sion of the point we have now reached. Here we are not talking about
“the mind” or “the body”] instead, we are talking about thinking and
feeling.
Therefore, the synthesis we are concerned with here is a synthesis of (210)
thinking and feeling. Considered by themselves, each of these two terms
is, in turn, a synthesis of what is subjective and what is objective—which
is the basic form of every synthesis.}
More Detailed Discussion
Let us call what lies on one side [of the primary synthesis A] (that is,
P and y) the “ideal I,” and let us examine this synthesis, {just as we ex-

§ i7 397
amined the real I and introduced a mediating link between b and the
central point of the synthesis}. The chief task is to learn how the I dis¬
covers itself to be engaged in the act of determining a concept of a goal.
■	To begin with, we know that all other consciousness is based upon
this {consciousness of constructing a concept of a goal}. How then do I
catch sight of84 this concept of a goal itself? I do this only to the extent
that I construct this concept and observe myself while I am doing this.
{Therefore, I observe it by means of my own activity.} I am only active
and am conscious of myself only as activity. How can you know that you
are engaged in thinking? I know what I do and what [I] think only in¬
sofar as I observe what I am doing.pp The concept of a goal is not some¬
thing that is given; instead, I produce this concept on my own, and I
201	know that I am doing this. My act of producing [a concept of a goal] is
the proper object of my {immediate} consciousness, {and my mediate
consciousness of everything else is attached to the latter, immediate
consciousness}.
■	Thus, once again, our investigation carries us to a still higher level.
{The rungs of our ascent to this higher level were as follows: I have
knowledge of a real object, but only insofar as my view of it is mediated
by my act of determining my own sensuous energy. I obtain knowledge
of my sensuous energy only through the concept of a goal; in turn, I
obtain knowledge of this concept of a goal only through my own act of
constructing this concept, and it is only through my own activity that I
am conscious of the latter act.}
■	I am aware of my concept of a goal only insofar as I catch sight of my
own activity of constructing this concept. {One can surely see that ev¬
erything here depends upon grasping activity as such.} But how is this
even possible? How is it possible to grasp this {agility, this} flowing move¬
ment that is involved in activity? {(Proper terms to designate this move¬
ment are lacking.) This is the chief question: How is this agility supposed
to be grasped?
Let us pursue our inquiry by means of an analogy: We begin with
something sensible, which, however, is derived from something
supersensible.85 Therefore, once this is explained it will be easy for us to
answer our chief question, namely, How, in the act of constructing a con¬
cept of a goal, is it possible for me to become conscious of my own ac¬
tivity as such—and indeed, in such a way that I am conscious of this
activity as a condition for the possibility of this concept?} The sensuous
element from which, for the purposes of convenience, we wish to begin
84	Reading, with H, “sehe” for K’s “setze” (“posit”).
pp I am only active, and I am conscious only of this activity. Accordingly, I have knowl¬
edge of my own act of thinking only insofar as I view it through the medium of my own
doing (p. 210).
85	“aus jenem übersinnlichen.”

398	§ *7
our ascent must be something derived, though it has not yet been de¬
rived; nevertheless, it occurs within ordinary consciousness.
■ {Let us here raise a subsidiary question:} How is movement in the
corporeal world86 possible? {(Anyone who wishes to understand this (211)
question as one concerning “movement in itself’ is quite wrong. The
question here is simply, How is such movement supposed to be thought
of?) Zeno demonstrated that} it is impossible to think of such movement,
{and we want to demonstrate this as well}. Let us say that a body is sup¬
posed to move in a line between any two possible points X and Y. {Let X
be the terminus a quo and Y the terminus ad quern.) But there are infinitely
many points between X and Y, since the line between X and Y is infinitely
divisible, and therefore, before a projectile can travel from point X to
point Y, it must traverse infinitely many points. Such a movement is
never completed, and thus the body in question never arrives at its des¬
tination.^ No matter how close together one imagines points X and Y
to be, {an infinite number of points still lie between them, since space is
infinitely divisible. Transcendentally expressed: I think of the projectile
as passing through infinitely many points; consequently, when I imagine
it, I must think of it as traversing an infinite number of points. But one
cannot think of an infinite number of points; therefore, a movement
that traverses infinitely many points is also unthinkable. Accordingly, no
movement in the corporeal world is possible.} This proof is rigorous and
correct; movement is something that is simply unthinkable. Neverthe¬
less, any child can produce a movement for us. This may be true, and yet
this fact can still coexist with the above argument; for it may well be that
we obtain our concept of movement not by thinking {of an infinite series
of points}, but by some other means altogether. For in the concept of
movement one does not think of points at all; instead, one thinks of {the
whole} line, {and it is for this reason that we are able to think of move¬
ment when we occupy the ordinary standpoint}. But how is it possible to
think directly of a line without thinking of {this infinite series of} points?
{Answer: this is made possible by the power of imagination.87} This re¬
moves the entire basis for the claim that it is [imjpossible [to think of
movement].
{On the basis of what has been said above, we have long been ac¬
quainted with the principle that states that the I is immediately con¬
scious only of its own activity. Here, however, we asked, “How is
consciousness of this activity possible?” In order to be able to answer this
question, we began with an example: we asked, “How is movement pos- (212)
sible?” We showed that this is impossible; we demonstrated the impos-
86	“in der Korperwelt.”
^Therefore the projectile never leaves its [original] position (p. 211).
87	“Durch die Einbildungskraft.” Note the root meaning of the term Einbildungskraft
(usually translated simply as “imagination”): it means “the power to form images.”

§ i7 399
sibility of the same. Despite this, consciousness testifies to the fact that
there is movement. Therefore, this [consciousness of movement] must
arise in some other way, and this is what we found as well. The projectile
is thought of not as traversing an infinite number of points, but rather
as traversing a line. This eliminates the entire basis for the argument for
the infinity of the movement—that is, the [necessity of] traversing a se¬
ries of infinitely many points.} Subsequently, this line can indeed be in¬
finitely divided, {and it can be divided in no other way. Thus the line
does indeed consist of an infinite number of parts; and a movement
along this line is possible only because these infinite parts are not
grasped individually, but are instead grasped all at once, by the
imagination.} The heart of the matter is that we have grasped these in¬
finite points in a single synthetic act.
■	{All our representations are representations of a relation. Neverthe¬
less, there must be something that underlies all these relations. Here we
have shown that all representations share a common relationship to the
infinite.88} All our representations are {only} representations of rela¬
tions; {but when we think about these relations themselves, certain laws
of thinking are thought of along with them, namely, those laws that are
thought of in the relation in question}. Thus89 we must ultimately arrive
at something that underlies and provides the foundation {for all these
relations}. This, however, is not some object that exists {in itself, but
something we have merely added through thought}. We arrive at an
original [power] that grasps infinity.90 It follows that the intellect pos¬
sesses the power to grasp {absolutely} opposed things in a single act; in
other words, it possesses the power of imagination, and {the act in
question} is the original synthesis of the manifold {by means of the imag¬
ination, i.e., an act of unifying things that are totally different from one
another}. What is grasped in this act is only [a manifold of] opposites.
[This manifold] is infinitely divisible by the understanding, but it is
202	grasped nevertheless. To this extent, the imagination is a productive
power. {The analogy of movement [though space] comprises the entire
function of the mind.}
■	But our chief question here is the following: How does movement
become possible through this act of grasping [an infinite manifold] by
means of the imagination?RR What the imagination does is combine the
manifold {of opposites}, which, in the present case {of movement}, is a
88	“hier ist gezeigt worden daß sie in allen Vorstellungen auf das Verhältniß des unend¬
lichen zu einander kommen.”
89	Reading, with H, “also” for K’s “aber [. . . ] doch” (“nevertheless”).
90	“dieß is aber nicht <an dem>, wir kommen auf etwas ursprüngliches was
<unendlich> auffaßt.” This passage is clearly corrupt and must be emended as indicated
(or in some other way) to make sense.
RR How does movement become possible through the unification, by the imagination, of
things that are absolutely opposed to each other? (p. 2 i 2).

400	§ 17
successive series of infinitely many points, which are distinguished from
one another only subsequently, by means of analysis {on the part of the
understanding. This act of the imagination is the mediating agency; it is
what is first and immediate.} In this act of imagination, the infinite se¬
ries is united with something simple, an energy or force, which is some¬
thing that is merely thought of and is—for precisely this reason—a mere
vovpevov,91 {of which one can say, “I merely add it in thought”}.
{How is this force united with this act?} This force is {united with all
the points in the line; it} is extended throughout the entire series as
one continuous movement. {As I move this force successively along the
line, it becomes successively united with all the points. But insofar as this (213)
power extends through an infinite number of points, an infinite series is
always present, though I am unable to observe it. It is true that the same
force has been present in all these points; but, precisely because there is
an infinite number of them, I am unable to observe them all. Thus I
have to make a leap at this point: for I do not proceed successively from
one point to the next; instead, through the power of imagination, I
grasp them in a single act, as a numberless whole.} Movement is a deed,
vitality.92 This is what concerns us here.
{How does movement (i.e., something that moves itself or something
that is moved) arise for us in this case?} Movement arises in this case
when something simple is viewed through the medium of its progressive
movement93 {through a manifold. Every individual point contains some¬
thing twofold: what is thought of, as well as that through which the lat¬
ter is mediated. This is also true in the present case.
What moves itself is thought of, but it is not set into motion by means
of thinking; instead, this occurs by means of the imagination. Insofar as
I analyze these points and have the task of uniting this force with every
point, I move this force through the entire series of points. In this way,
what is in motion itself becomes what is moved.}
■ How then do I become aware of myself as the subject actively en¬
gaged in an act of determining? There is no determinacy without de-
terminability. What is it that is merely determinable in this case? {(These
are relative concepts. Something can be determinate in one respect and
determinable in another. Nevertheless, there is something to which ev-
91	“damit wird ein einfaches, eine Kraft vereinigt, die eben deswegen bloß gedacht wird,
bloß vouptevov ist.” Cp. H: “hiemit, mit der Bewegung, ist vereinigt ein einfachs, eine Kraft,
welche Kraft bloß gedacht wird (u. deswegen ein Noumen ist)” (“in this manner, something
simple, a force, one that is merely thought of—and is for this reason a noumenon—is
united with the movement”). Guided by H, the translation places the words “eben deswe¬
gen” after “wird.” The translation does not follow H, however, in construing K’s “damit” to
refer to “the movement,” but construes it to refer to “eine succeßives Anreihen unendlicher
Punkt.”
92	“Bewegung ist That, Lebendigkeit.”
93	“Bewegung in diesem Falle entstand dadurch daß das einfache durch ein fortschrei¬
tendes hindurchgesehen wurde.”

§ 17	401
erything determinate must ultimately be connected; this is what is
purely and simply determinable, which is what we are here seeking.
Consciousness also contains a last or final element; this is what is deter¬
minate. All the elements that occupy the middle ground between these
two extremes can be considered to be either determinable or determi¬
nate, depending upon whether they are referred forward [to what is de¬
terminate] or backward [to what is determinable].)} What then is it that
is simply and originally determinable, from which my consciousness of
my own act of determining first proceeds? [Answer:] What is simply and
originally determinable is the infinite number of possible ways of
acting.94 As surely as this is supposed to contain within itself [all] the
possible ways in which a free being can act, {it must just as surely be in¬
finitely divisible}. This [determinable something] is grasped {solely} by
the power of the imagination we have just described, by the power to
grasp {things that are absolutely opposed to one another—and to grasp}
only things that are {absolutely} opposed to one another. Here we
are not talking about things that are opposed to one another in space
and time; instead, we are now discussing an opposition that exists with¬
in pure thinking, i.e., an opposition purely between various ways of
acting. (A spatial synthesis is simply an act of pure thinking which has
been made sensible or “sensibilized.”) Here the imagination absolutely
unifies the infinitely divisible [manifold of] possibilities of action. {In the
same way that the imagination, in a single act, combines in a line all
the infinitely many points in space (which is the basis of the concept of
magnitude); in the same way, moreover, that many moments of time
are combined in a single act (which is the basis of the concept of age): so
too, in just this way, the same power of imagination, in an act of pure
thinking, combines absolutely opposed possibilities of action in one de¬
terminable something. Therefore, one could certainly say that} the (214)
imagination is the power to grasp what is determinable {as such}, which
is something that thinking cannot do, since thinking is purely discursive;
nevertheless, there is a specific power to grasp opposites: the power of
imagination.
■ {All} the powers of the I must themselves be deduced {in any correct
philosophy; in philosophy one may not simply assume these powers,
without troubling oneself any further with the question of where they
come from and thinking only of how one could derive something else
from them}. Consequently, we must here demonstrate the existence of
the power of imagination. This is here deduced, for [we have shown
that] there can be no consciousness or any I unless there is a movement
of transition which begins with what is determinable, i.e., unless some¬
thing determinable exists for us; {and this requires something through
94	“Es ist ein unendlich theilbares der Handelsmoglichkeit.”

402	§ 17
which what is determinable could be grasped}. From this it follows that
there necessarily exists a power of imagination.ss
The opposite of imagining [that is, the opposite of the act of grasping
what is determinable] is {sheer} thinking, i.e., the act of grasping some¬
thing determinate. Neither imagination nor thinking exists without the
other; these are simply two different aspects of my total power, {as re¬
lated (1) to what is determinate and (2) to what is determinable. The
first relationship gives us thinking; the latter, the imagination. Both are
inseparably united. There is no imagination, nothing determinable,
without thinking, without something determinate}—which is merely a
203 much more profound version of {Kant’s} claim that there is no intuition
without a concept and no concept without an intuition.95
■ In addition, we must note that what is determinable in this case does
not somehow exist in advance of the power of imagination; instead, what
is determinable comes into being precisely—and only—by means of the
imagination {and at the same time as the latter}. Beginning with this
highest synthesis, one can say, “I intuit myself as imagining, and in this
way I observe {myself as} something determinable.” {I am not immedi¬
ately acquainted with myself as something determinate; it is only
through the medium of the imagination that I view myself in this way.
The imagination here serves as the tinted glass through which I view
myself, just as, previously, I viewed the object through a tinted glass.
The difference is that, in the previous case, the object I viewed through
the glass was one that was already there, whereas in the present case, the
object is projected and produced for me at the same time as the glass.}
To this extent, the imagination is absolutely productive with regard to
the content or matter [of consciousness],96 just as the I itself is produc¬
tive in an overall sense. {There are noumena, and these are nothing but (215)
our own pure thinking, objectively considered. There is matter, and this
is nothing but our own imagination, objectively considered.} Finally, the
object of the imagination is what is determinable, {from which alone any
movement of transition to a determinate activity is possible; conse¬
quently,} the imagination is what conditions all the activity involved in
the act of determining, even though this activity is ascribed to the
I alone.TT
{Observation: The transcendental idealist would accomplish very little
if he were simply to say, “We make the object ourselves,” and then were
to leave it at that. From the ordinary point of view, it is and remains true
that we discover objects that appear to be given to us. Thus the claim
ss There is no determinate activity apart from a movement of transition from what is
determinable, for the activity consists in just this movement. What is determinable in this
case, however, must be grasped as such, and for this one requires something through
which it could be grasped: this is the power of imagination (p. 214).
95	KRV, A50/B74.
96	“in Rücksicht des Stoffs.”
[. . . ] even though this activity is ascribed to the intellect alone (p. 215).

§i7	4°3
that we ourselves make these objects is meaningless unless one also pro¬
vides a derivation of why it is that the objects we ourselves construct nev¬
ertheless appear within ordinary consciousness as something given.}
Where do I begin, and where does my productive activity97 begin? I
discover myself only as the determining subject.98 This presupposes
something determinable, which is provided to us by the imagination. My
productive activity always presupposes the imagination, as well as the
product of the same, {i.e., what is determinable}. It is for this reason that
something always appears to be given to us, and this is the source of the
world’s objectivity. {This is why the sensible world must appear to us as
something given, because it is the determinable “something” that is pro¬
duced by the imagination so that it can then be determined by my sen¬
suous energy.} Consequently, the imagination necessarily appears to us
as something given. {Furthermore,} the object of the imagination is in¬
finitely divisible. This {infinite} divisibility does not lie within what is de¬
terminable (considered as something in itself), as an immanent property
of the same; for what is determinable is [the product of] my imagination
itself,99 which merely combines [the manifold].uu Hence to say that
what is determinable is infinitely divisible simply means that what is pro¬
vided byvv the power of the imagination is subsequently divided by the
power of judgment—or at least that this act of dividing is posited as one
that has to be undertaken100 {by the power of judgment}. Thus, {just as
we previously encountered an interaction between thinking and
imagination,} we here in fact encounter an interaction between imagi¬
nation and judgment, each of which can be described only in terms of
the other. One could thus say that imagination is the power [to grasp]
wholes [consisting of] {an infinite number of} absolutely {opposed
parts}, and that the power of judgment {analyzes the absolutely opposed
elements that have been combined by the imagination; in other words,}
judgment is the power {to grasp} what is simple.101 These two powers are
reciprocally related to each other: there can be nothing simple apart
97	“mein Machen.”
98	Reading, with H, “das Bestimmende” for K’s “das Bestimm<te>” (“what is determi¬
nate”).
99	“dieses ist meine Einbildungskraft selbst.” As Radrizzani notes, this clause requires
some emendation, since (according to what has just been said) it is not the imagination
itself that is divisible and determinable, but rather its product. For an alternate way of
emending this clause, see the corresponding passage in H, translated below in n. UU.
uu This infinite divisibility, however, does not lie within what is determinable, as [an]
immanent [property of the same], as in something [that exists] “in itself’; it lies only in the
power of imagination through which I view the object (p. 215).
vv [. . . ] that what is glimpsed through [ . . . ] (p. 215).
100	Reading, with H, “als vorzunehmen” for K’s “als vorzunehemend.”
101	K: “die Einbildungskraft is das Vermögen absoluter Ganzen, die Urtheilskraft des
Vermögen des Einfachen.” H: “Die Einbildungskraft ist das Zusammmenfaßen absoluter
00 sich entgegengesezten Gängen [sic]. Die Urtheilskraft is die Analyse der durch die Ein¬
bildungskraft zusammengesfaßten absolute sich entgegengesezten; oder die Urtheils¬
kraft is das Auffasen des einzelnen.”

404	§ i7
from a whole and no whole without an infinite number of simple
elements.102 {All concepts such as “herd,” “old age,” “heap,” etc., consist
of individual elements that have been blended together by the imagina¬
tion. As soon as these different elements begin to be enumerated and
separated from one another, the function of the imagination ceases and
that of judgment commences.} This recalls the ancient sorites.103 If one
says, “The imagination combines something that is infinitely divisible,”
then this means: “divisible for the power of judgment.” Therefore, for
the mind as a whole, the very same thing that appears to be a whole, to
be one, also appears to this same mind to be a mere collection of infi¬
nitely divisible [parts]. One can never become conscious of the divisions
made by the power of judgment {except by means of this very power; (216)
thus I must actually engage in judgment}. Therefore, one must not
make any judgment if a property is present which does not depend
upon a conscious deed and must not say that anything exists in itself and
independently of me.
204	■ The main objection to this, {[and] one of the best objections one
could raise against the transcendental idealist,} is as follows: “If nature is
your own product, then how is it that you are nevertheless able to learn
things from nature? If nature is your own product, then how is any re¬
search into nature possible? {How could you perform any experiments?
You must already be completely acquainted with nature. Therefore, de¬
spite what you claim, nature must also contain for you something more,
something you did not expect to find. But this is the characteristic fea¬
ture of posited being. Consequently, you cannot have produced nature.”
Answer:} Here we do no more than learn about ourselves and employ
our faculty of judgment to analyze what is posited by the imagination.
{Nature in its entirety is a product of the imagination.}
How is movement possible? It is possible only insofar as an {entire}
line is constructed {all at once and not the infinite parts of the same, one
after another}; similarly, consciousness of an activity [is possibly only] in¬
sofar as what is determinable, {[i.e.,] the infinite manifold of my
freedom,} is grasped as a mass, as a whole, {and not individually and
successively}.
■ Movement is not yet explained in this way, for I still do not see what
it is that moves itself along this line; therefore, consciousness {of agility}
also has not been explained, since what is self-actively agile has not yet
come into view. (Just as in the previous case of a line, so too in the
102	“ohne unendliches einfache.”
103	Taking its name from the Greek wordwoj (“heap”), this sophistical argument (some¬
times known as “the argument of the beard”) denies the possibility of finding any middle
ground between parts and wholes composed thereof, on the grounds that it is impossible
to say precisely when, for example, a number of individual grains of wheat becomes a
“heap”—and, conversely, when a “heap” ceases to be a heap and becomes simply a number
of individual grains.

§ i7 4°5
present case [of our consciousness of our own activity or agility]: some¬
thing that is in motion is united with what is here determinable, i.e.,
with this agility, and is viewed through the medium of this same agility.
You observe the manifold of choice, and through the medium of the
same you also observe a determinate, inner force, the I as something
agile.} The I is united with what is here determinable and appears as the
subject that mediates the latter, i.e., as the determining I. This deter¬
mining I is something simple and absolute, something that is produced
purely by thinking, a noumenon. When we think of this determining I,
we are not thinking of any / that actually determines itself, {as is the case
with the concept of a goal}; all we are thinking about here is the form,
{what type of act of determining this is and how it occurs,} the sheer
power [of the I to determine itself]. This is a remarkable concept, for we
simply cannot understand what a “sheer power”104 could be; neverthe¬
less, this is thought of within consciousness. {Though it is hard to deter¬
mine what a “sheer power” is supposed to be, this cannot be expressed
any better than in the following way:} When we think of a power, what
we think of is the sheer form {of “doing”}, not of any determinate acting
of this or that type. This is similar to what happens when we think about
infinite space. The problem is as follows: How am I supposed to arrive
at a cognition of the form of anything unless I have already discovered
this form to be realized in something determinate? (In the usual sort of
purely formulaic philosophy, one customarily starts with a mere abstrac¬
tion {without noticing that no abstract thinking whatsoever is possible (217)
without concrete thinking}.) How is abstraction possible unless it is pre¬
ceded by something concrete? {How can I arrive at a cognition of the (216)
type and manner of the I’s act of determining unless I am first ac¬
quainted with certain determinate actions of the I?}
{The main object of our present inquiry was to answer the question, (217)
How is consciousness of agility [i.e, of our own inner activity] possible?
In order to be able to answer this question, we first had to address an¬
other one: How is movement possible? In order for movement to be pos¬
sible there must be (a) a power to unite the manifold of opposites, and
(b) an act of pure thinking, an energy or force.
This was nothing but an example, however, to which we connected our
inquiry. We are here concerned with agility. This agility is supposed to
be grasped, and here we discover (A) something infinitely determinable,
namely, an infinite number of possibilities for action, which, at the same
time, appear to us to be given; (B) a power to grasp these various possibil¬
ities. From a transcendental perspective, there is not an infinite number
of possibilities for action; these exist only subsequently, for the power of
judgment. Consequently, this manifold of opposites can be grasped only
104	“ein bloßes Vermögen.”

406	§ 17
by the power of imagination. Only a single act of pure thinking occurs;
and, when one is engaged in constructing a concept of a goal, this single
act is, in a certain sense, guided through the series [of possible actions],
and it is here that an intuition of agility arises. What arose in this way was
the form [of the act of self-determination], for this act of self-determining
is posited not as anything actual, but only as a form, as something abstract.
[Nothing abstract, however,] can exist apart from something concrete.
Accordingly, a real act of willing, an act of self- determining, would here
have to be presupposed. Since self-determination is present in the con¬
cept of a goal, the form of this act of self-determination had to be ex¬
plained as contained within the concept of a goal. This is how we
arrived at the question, “How is an intuition of the mere form [of this
act of self-determination] possible apart from an intuition of something
actual or real to which this form pertains? I.e., how is something abstract
possible apart from something concrete?” In the concept of a goal we
find nothing but the form of self-determination, without any content.
Why is this form nevertheless assumed to be something that is originally
present and employed to explain the will?}
■ [Answer:] As applied to the act of self-determination, [abstraction] is
possible precisely insofar as this act of self-determination is viewed
through the medium of the imagination, which grasps the infinitely
{divisible} manifold; and [thus] the imagination is here the mediating
agency. Similarly, in the act of drawing a line, I project105 the line through
an infinite number of points. {For example, a projectile moves along a
certain line. For the reasons stated above, however, this movement can¬
not be grasped by thinking, for the projectile would have to be thought
of as moving through an infinite number of points. Nevertheless, from (218
the ordinary point of view, movement certainly does occur. But the only
way in which this was possible is if the infinite series of points was
grasped by the imagination in a single act (and in a single line), and [this
in turn was possible only] if we assumed the existence of some force that
unites itself with all the points on this line. Consequently, I projected this
force through the infinite points, and it was by means of this act of
projection that a line arose for me. Thus the line arose only insofar as I
viewed the noumenon through the medium of the infinite divisibility of
space. So too in the present case: the self-determining force is viewed
through the medium of the infinite manifold from which a selection has
to made, and what is observed in this case is nothing but my own act of
thinking, my act of self-determining—which is such only with respect to
its form—since the process of self-determination nowhere ceases.
Expressed in a popular form: I am in a state of deliberation; should I
do this, or should I do that? I.e., should I determine myself in this way
105
1werfe [. . . ] hindurch.’

§ i7 4°7
or that?} Everyone is familiar with this frame of mind, which is the one
in which we find ourselves when we doubt or when we choose. It follows
that the concept of the power of willing is contained within this very
frame of mind; even though nothing is willed in this case, {the possibility
of willing is already present}. But how is a concept of this sort possible?
{This is willing in the abstract sense, and this sort of willing is made
possible} by the fact that when one deliberates one does not restrict one¬
self to any one thing. {I am always driven, as it were, from one thing to
another, and it is precisely through this process that there arises the ab¬
stract [concept] of a determination of the will apart from anything
concrete.}
205	■ This must be understood only in a transcendental sense.ww A rep¬
resentation {of the freedom of the will or of the determinability of
willing} should not be assumed to be something that is presupposed
{and is passively present in advance; for if we could have assumed this,
then we would have proceeded in a purely analytic fashion. The power
of imagination never comes to a rest. It continually proceeds from one
thing to the next. At every point, one act of determination is completed
and a new one is begun, and this holds for the entire state of delibera¬
tion, within which determinacy and indeterminacy are continually
united with each other. Neither can exist without the other; for this is
precisely the state of mind by means of which determinability comes into
being, but determinability exists only insofar as determinacy does.}
Throughout the entire sphere of imagination, there occurs everywhere
an act of quasi determining, which constantly moves from one thing to
another; determinacy and indeterminacy are here united. Here we can
see how the general concept of determinability first arises.xx
Remark [1]: Only by means of the act of thinking just described, an act
through which the I ascribes a power to itself, does the I discover itself
to be an actual I, separate from the world. {I am nothing but a
“doing”;106 moreover, my activity is only a movement of transition from
determinability to determinacy, and I intuit it as such within conscious- (219)
ness. This movement of transition is a process of sensibilization; as a re¬
sult, I intuit my own activity in a sensibilized form,107 and this is how it
becomes a “power” for me. [In this way] I become conscious only of my
act of determining, not of my determinate being.} The I that arises in
ww We must provide a transcendental account of this, that is, we must explain how a
representation of the will’s freedom or of the determinability of willing is possible (p. 218).
xx Consequently, both determinability and determinacy must be united in the state of
deliberation, which is why no stable act of determining occurs within this state. (Here we
can clearly understand how a determinability arises along with what is determinate.)
(p. 218).
106	“Ich bin nichts als ein Thun.”
107	“Das Uebergehen ist Versinnlichung, ich schaue demnach meine Thatigkeit in einer
Versinnlichung an.”

408	§ 17
this first act [that is, in the act of determining] is transformed into a de¬
terminate being. Everything that is present here is an appearance—in¬
cluding I myself (a point that has already been made by Kant, {who said
that I discover myself not as I am, but as I appear.108 This is quite cor¬
rect, and it is assertions of this sort on the part of Kant which allow us
to infer that he had a grasp of transcendental idealism.}). But where
does this appearance come from? It is produced by me. But what am I?
{Am I “something,” and if so, what? Many people say that} I am a mind,
or a soul, or something of this sort. But is this latter way of looking at the
I [as a power] also nothing but an appearance, {just another way of look¬
ing at the first, original noumenon}? Yes, this too is an appearance,
namely, the appearance of a power.
{Though many philosophers begin with a “power” or “faculty,” such as
“the understanding,” etc.} (see, for example, Reinhold’s “power of
representation”),109 {this is nevertheless a mistake; for when they pro¬
ceed in this way they begin with an appearance. For what is a “power”
(e.g., the “power of the understanding”) if not an appearance?} Now,
however, we see how the general or overall [concept of] a power can
arise. This is a sensuous concept, produced by a process of sensibiliza¬
tion. {A power arises when I view the self-determining force, the
noumenon, through the medium of the manifold.} Within the whole of
{ordinary} consciousness I am never present as anything but a power,
{because ordinary consciousness is itself a process of sensibilization}.
■ We wanted to provide a derivation of consciousness of the I’s agil¬
ity—not of consciousness of this agility as a consciousness of something
that has already occurred {and serves to explain something else (which is
how we have proceeded until now)}, but rather of consciousness of it as
something immediately occurring. Above, we argued as follows: I dis¬
cover my own physical energy as something in motion, and through the
medium of the latter I view an object as the result of my causal power.
But how does this physical energy or force become mine? {How do I be- (220)
come conscious of it as identical with myself as the subject? This occurs
in the following way:} I refer the determinacy of this physical energy to
my own act of self-determining, which I {therefore} presuppose as the
explanatory ground of the former. This raises a still higher question:
How do I become conscious of {the self-determination that is involved
in} my act of determining? We have at last explained how this occurs. {I
become conscious of this self-determination by viewing this act of deter¬
108	KRV, B155/156.
109	The “power” (or “faculty”) of representation is Reinhold’s name for our undifferen¬
tiated ability to be conscious of anything at all. Reinhold posited this power in order to
explain the unity of the two “subsidiary” powers of “intuition” and “thinking.” All Rein¬
hold’s treatises on Elementary Philosophy include discussions of the power of representa¬
tion, but see especially his Versuch einer neuen Theorie des menschlichen Vorstellungsvermogens
(1789)-

§ i7 4°9
mining through the medium of a manifold, through which my act
“flows.” We must now explain how this “flowing through” originates.110}
Remark [2] (added for the purposes of clarity): We said above that the
usual sort of Critical philosophy contains a yawning gap. It shows only
how the moments of time become arranged in a series, and {its propo¬
nents believe that} a certain duration arises thereby. This, however, can¬
not occur; for if there is nothing that fills the individual moments of
time, then neither is there anything that fills the entire series. {No mat¬
ter how many mathematical surfaces, or how many shadows, one piles
on top of one another, no thickness will ever arise, because none of the
individual surfaces possesses any thickness. In precisely the same way,
one may arrange just as many moments next to one another in a series
as one wishes, but if none of these moments possesses any duration,
then no period of time will arise.} Accordingly, {if any period of time is
206 to be explained,} it must {first} be demonstrated that every individual
moment possesses a certain duration {and fills a certain amount of time.
What is the origin of this duration that pertains to each of the individual
moments?} It arises from the oscillation of the imagination between op¬
posites, {by means of which the intuition of the activity of the I originally
obtains duration in every moment}. The imagination consists in just
this: it is what allows me to grasp an infinitely divisible manifold. A mo¬
ment arises only in this act of combining. {The imagination has to grasp
a manifold; it begins to oscillate between or to hover above the opposites
[that constitute this manifold]. Along with this act of oscillating, there
arises the duration that is contained in every moment; indeed, the
moment itself first arises precisely by means of the duration of this act,
and then, when these moments are arranged in a series, a period of
time arises.}
■ According to the above, an object is viewed through the medium of
the concept of a goal, {by means of which I am supposed to produce this
object,} in accordance with the category of causality. This relationship is
completely simultaneous, since {the concept of a goal and the object} are
immediately connected with each other; i.e., no time intervenes between
the cause and the effect. {In Kant’s writings, it appears as if the cause
might occur today and the effect tomorrow.111 This, however, is incor¬
rect; here we have a case of absolute simultaneity. Consequently, we can- (221)
not obtain any duration in this manner.} Where then does temporal
duration come from? Does it perhaps arise when several effects are con¬
nected with one another? Nothing comes from nothing, and if one effect
does not occupy any time, can a thousand effects occupy any time? {No
duration is obtained in this way, because one will search in vain for
something in the whole which is contained in none of the individual
1,0 “Woher dieses Hindurchfließen komme.”
111 See especially the “Second Analogy of Experience,” KRV, A189/B232-A211/B256.

410	§ 17
parts of the same.} Temporal duration can arise only if the concept of a
goal—including the act in which this concept is constructed—possesses
a certain duration of its own. Only through this latter duration, by
means of sensuous mediation, does there arise a successive acting, {as} a
gradual generation of the product of our acting. This point is not made
clearly in Kant’s own writings. (See Jacobi’s Concerning Idealism and
Realism,112 a work that should be carefully reread. {Jacobi shows clearly
that no time is contained in the concept of causality; instead, it is con¬
tained only in the act of grasping the manifold by means of the power of
imagination.})
{We have been speaking of an act of viewing the act of self-
determining through the medium of a manifold of mutually opposed
elements.} This act is the act of thinking of my own substance (not of
“substantiality”),113 to which there pertain the following: [i] A noume-
non, something that is merely thought of (something one simply thinks
of, without directing one’s thinking at something given). This
{noumenon} is here the self-determining I, with respect to the mere
form of the same. [2] A sensibilization of this noumenon, which arises
when the imagination unites this noumenon with what is simply deter¬
minable. {When the noumenon is viewed through the medium of what
is determinable, the concept of substance arises—but not that of
substantiality.}
■ The {concept} of substance contains the following: [A] A substance
can, be characterized as something enduring, something firm and fixed.
This absolute character of substance comes from the {act of self-
determining, from the} noumenon that is here present. [B] A substance
also includes {not determinacy, but} pure determinability, i.e., it can be
determined to become anything that lies within its concept. (Insofar as it
is determinate, it is an accident.)114 [C] Finally, a substance {also} in- (222)
eludes something that fills time, a temporal duration. This arises from
the union of what is simple with the manifold—a union that can be
grasped by the imagination only in a certain succession. When we think
of the individual elements that constitute this determinable manifold,115
112 Ueber Idealismus und Realismus, the appendix to Jacobi’s David Hume über den Glauben
oder Idealismus und Realismus. Ein Gespräch (1787). See especially p. 101 of the original
edition.
1,3 “Dieser Act ist das Denken einer Substanz: (nicht Substantialitaet).” Reading, with
H, “meiner” for K’s “einer” (“a”).
114 As before, this term is here employed in the sense of an “accidental property” (or
predicate) of a “substance.”
1,5 “Dieses mannigfaltige Bestimmbare giebt, wenn eins allein gedacht wird.” Reading,
with H, “einzeln” for K’s “eins allein” (“one alone”).

§17	411
this provides us with the accidents, {which, however, we are not discuss¬
ing here, where we are chiefly concerned with the substance. As will be¬
come evident below, neither substance nor accident is possible apart
from the other.}
(4)	Let us now situate ourselves within the standpoint of the present in¬
quiry. {In advance of anything else, let us occupy the standpoint from
which we are supposed to proceed. But first, let us consider where we
have stood until now:} We began {the present §} by hovering above syn¬
thesis A. We then descended to a consideration of the discrete, individ-
207 ual acts of thinking contained in this synthesis and posited only in a
certain relationship to one another. We will now shift our standpoint
{once more} and will again place ourselves {in the standpoint} above syn¬
thesis A. In {the primary synthesis} (= A) the I posits itself as thinking in
the manner we have now described. We have {until now} directed all our
attention only to the intermediate or mediating element [in this synthe¬
sis], though we remarked in advance that it is through this mediating
element that my act of thinking of myself as what is determinate is
united (objectively) with the primary synthesis and my act of thinking
of myself as the determining subject is united (subjectively) with the
same.YY Thus the same elements we previously considered separately we
now wish to consider again in their union with one another. We will now
reflect upon this synthesis, which will [thus] appear as something that is
merely thought of.
{A few additional remarks to explain what has been said: It has often
been remarked that many people have great difficulty with claims such
as the following: that even thinking is nothing but an appearance; that
one act of thinking is the object of another, higher act of thinking, or is
an object for a higher form of consciousness; that we do not think within
time, but only perceive116 our own thinking as occurring within time.} It
is very difficult for people to comprehend the ideality of time. {If we re¬
main standing at the point where our thinking appears to us to be some¬
thing that originally occurs within time, then we occupy the standpoint
of ordinary consciousness and we consider discursive thinking to be
something immediate. This is how we have proceeded until now: We
spoke of the act of thinking of a concept of a goal, as if this were some¬
thing original and ultimate. We also spoke of a certain force or energy,
as if this force were determined by itself. But this is not the way things
now appear: [we can now see that] all this [both the act of thinking of a
YY Through this mediating element, the act of thinking of myself as what is determin¬
able (the object) and the act of thinking of myself as the determining agency (the subject)
are united as a single synthesis (p. 222).
116	“hineinschauen.”

412	§ 17
goal and the force of the I] is mediated by the primary synthesis [= A].
These are not immediate determinations of the mind.} In the chain of
reflections just concluded, we remained solely within the standpoint of
ordinary consciousness, and there we treated the determinacy of [our
own] force117 as something absolute. Now we will no longer proceed in
this manner, but will recall that the determinacy of our force is a deter¬
mination of ourselves and is mediated by the fundamental synthesis that
we now place ourselves above. {We now wish to ascend once again to
what is immediate, to the point from which we previously descended to
the individual, discursive acts of thinking contained in synthesis A.
Let us consider the previously described intuition of the act of self-
determination which is involved in the concept of a goal:} I view my own
act of determining (= the noumenon) through the medium of the man¬
ifold contained in the imagination. What is the origin of this act of de¬
termining which I am supposed to view in this way? It cannot be given
to me; I determine myself on my own, and I am immediately conscious
of this act of determining as my own act of determining. This
{immediate} consciousness, however, is precisely the central {term within
the} synthesis, and the leading thought [of this inquiry] is that it is a law
of our thinking that we must connect many other things to this mid¬
point, {[i.e.,] that we connect thoughts by means of a synthesis. In the (223)
concept of a goal I discover myself as a determining subject, but only
with respect to the form of the same. Insofar as I act efficaciously in a
determinate manner, I view my own efficacy through the medium of
my act of determining, and I view the object through the medium of
consciousness. I view all this through the medium of the categories.}
What we have now derived is certainly not the midpoint [of our synthe¬
sis], but something that follows from the categories of substantiality
and causality.
■ Let us begin by describing this midpoint: It is the immediate and
self-determining {element of consciousness} and is not viewed through
the medium of anything else. {Everything that lies within time is con¬
nected to this midpoint.} Consciousness is like a circle: What is intelligi¬
ble is the midpoint or center of this circle. The circumference of this
circle, which includes everything empirical and sensible, is connected to
the center in accordance with the necessary laws of thinking. We have
now lost our way on the circumference, so let us return to the center and
show why precisely these, and no other, radii must be described. At this
midpoint, the act of determining something purely by means of thinking
is inseparably united with the act of grasping what is infinite by means
of the imagination. Both occur in a single act of consciousness.
117	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “die Bestimmtheit der Kraft” for K’s “von der Be-
stimmtheit die Kraft.”

§i7	4*3
2o8	(i) What is this very act of determining,118 considered, somewhat ar¬
bitrarily, as a {separate,} pure act {— which, to be sure, it is not}? Lan¬
guage fails us at this point, {for we possess only sensible intuition and are
bound by the laws of the same}. One might say that this is an act of lim¬
iting ourselves, that is to say, an act in which we limit our reflection upon
the manifold to one individual, determinate element. But if one says
this, then the product of the imagination has already been built into
one’s very definition and cannot subsequently be removed. [On the
other hand,] we could think of our act of determining only as a move¬
ment of transition [from determinability to determinacy] or as a process
of oscillating among several opposed terms. We are trying, however, to
describe this activity {by itselfrwithout any reference to determinacy and
determinability, [and]} without referring to any of the opposed terms
among which it oscillates. {This, however, is impossible, since both de¬
terminacy and determinability must be present in every act of thinking
in accordance with laws.} [Thus,] in order to accomplish what we are
supposed to accomplish, we must either think in accordance with en¬
tirely different laws of thought, or else say something that is false. In
short, we cannot do what we are supposed to do. {Therefore, our
present task is nothing but an Idea: We are not supposed to think of any
content of this act of determining; but it is impossible to think of it in
this way, since the product of the imagination, i.e., the object, is always
contained in this very act. Consequently,} we must here proceed as we
must proceed with every Idea; i.e., we will merely describe the law in
accordance with which this concept has to come into being. We claim
that if the mere determination is supposed to be thought of, then one
must abstract from what is determinable. This is impossible, for if one
did this, one would have to be thinking of mere I-hood, i.e., of the act of
grasping and apprehending oneself119—expressions that already con¬
tain within themselves a sensible distinction between the apprehending
subject and what is apprehended. {I cannot think of such an act of de¬
termining; I can only say how I would have to proceed in order to be
able to think of it.} In a similar manner, one often speaks, for example,
about an “infinite space,” even though this is unthinkable and {all one
can think of in this case is how one would perhaps go about thinking of
an infinite space; [i.e.,]} one thinks only of the rule in accordance with
which infinite space must be described: namely, [the rule that tells us] to
continue drawing a line forever.
{In the concept of a goal (which is the concept whose possibility we
here have to examine) the act of determining is viewed through the me¬
dium of the manifold of thinking. Consequently, the concept of a goal
118	Reading, with H, “dieses Bestimmen selbst” for K’s “dieses Bestimmte selbst” (“this
determinate something itself”).
119	“das sich selbst Faßen und Ergreifen.”

414	§ !7
contains within itself an act of self-determining. Where does this come
from? It is what is first, what is highest, what is a priori. It is not medi¬
ated by anything else; instead, everything else is mediated by it. How is
it to be thought of? It cannot be thought of in isolation. In actual con¬
sciousness it is always thought of in a sensible form. It certainly cannot
be thought of as something supersensible; for in order to be able to
think of it in this way, we ourselves would have to cease to be sensuous or
sensible beings and would have to become supersensible ones, which is
quite impossible. Consequently, it can be thought of only as an Idea. I.e.,
we can only supply the rule specifying how this act of determining has
to be thought of. What this rule tells us is this: when we think of this act
we must eliminate (that is, “think away”) everything determinable or de¬
terminate. We are all conscious of an act of determining, and this act of (224)
determining is also present in the concept of a goal—namely, as a move¬
ment of transition. If I now try to think away the transition involved,
what remains is the act of thinking of this act of determining as what is
original and highest. This is an act of apprehending oneself.}
This act of self-determining is the absolute beginning of all life and of
all consciousness {and all activity}, and—for just this reason—it is incom¬
prehensible, for our consciousness always presupposes something. {As
we saw above, our consciousness cannot grasp its own beginning; in¬
stead, it always discovers itself in the midst [of its own conscious
activity],120 where the beginning must be presupposed. The reason this
act of determining cannot be grasped is because the act of determining
and the act of intuiting this act of determining are necessarily united
within the I itself by the imagination. Consequently, we must proceed to
a higher act of the I, from the standpoint of which it will be possible to
observe both the act of determining and the act of intuiting this act of
determining.} This reflection raises us {once again} to the standpoint of
A. We have already observed the ground of the connection [between the
act of self-determining and the act of intuiting the same].
{The act of self-determining can be observed only through the me¬
dium of the imagination; for this act is supposed to be thought of as a
process of flowing forth,121 and only by means of the imagination is it
possible to think of it this way.} It becomes a flowing forth, however, only
through the imagination, precisely because it is the imagination {alone}
that unites this noumenon, {this self-determining energy,} with this
rather than with that {point of the manifold}, by constantly propelling it
{through the infinite series}. One should always keep in mind the
consciousness122 of movement, which is what is most distant [from the
120	“sondern sich immer in der Mitte befindet.”
121	“als ein Fortfließen.”
122	Reading, with Krauses MS, “man erinnere sich immer an den B.” for K’s “man erin¬
nere sich an den B,” and also construing “B” as an abbreviation for “Bewusstsein” (which

§'7	4*5
center], the final expression of all productive activity. The entire func¬
tion of the imagination is simply to make it possible to observe the acting
of the I while it is engaged in the act of determining itself.123 {We said
previously that I can observe myself only as active. This activity is an
agility, a flowing forth, a fluttering. (No precise terminology is available
to describe this activity.) Where does this agility come from?} No flowing
occurs within thinking, but simply a standing still.124 Insofar as con-
209 sciousness is supposed to be a consciousness of this flowing, the power of
imagination is the basis of all consciousness; and therefore consciousness
must originate solely by means of the power of imagination.zz {This is
also what actually occurs, and it occurs insofar as the act of self-
determining, or the absolutely free energy of the I, is conducted
through [the manifold] by the imagination, which unifies this manifold.
In this respect, the imagination is posited, for otherwise there can be no
imagination; and in this respect the imagination is necessary, since what
generates sensuous consciousness originates through the imagination.}
One can now say that the self-positing of the I consists in the unification
of an act of thinking and an act of intuiting, {and the I itself first arises
by means of this unification; this provides the primary synthesis = A}.
(Synthesis A is {therefore procreative; it is} simply the progenitor of self-
consciousness.) This synthesis occurs when imagination and thinking are
united in such a way that what is real becomes united with what is ideal.
Only in this unity is the I engendered. {We said above that the I [arises] (225)
from the unification of what is ideal and what is real, and here we say
that it arises from the synthesis of thinking and imagination. These are
simply two different ways of saying the same thing; for what is real is the
imagination, and what is ideal is thinking. There is no I without both,
and neither could exist without the other.} Thinking and imagining125
cannot exist separately, for then there would be no I {for which they
could exist}.
[ii] The form of the act of synthetic thinking (= A): {Until now} we have
viewed the manifold as consisting of elements in a relationship of de¬
pendence, {because one point in the manifold was mediated by another.
In the synthesis of causality} we viewed the object only through the
is the usual abbreviation Krause employed). For some reason Fuchs construes “B” in this
instance as an abbreviation for “Begriff” (“concept”), but, as Radrizzani points out, “con¬
sciousness” makes more sense in this context.
123	“Die Einbildungskraft und ihre ganze Function ist bloß die Möglichkeit des Handeln
des Ich in seinem Bestimmen anzusehen.” Cp. H: “[. . . ] des Handeln des Ich und seinem
Bestimmen anzusehen” (“to view the acting of the I and its act of determining”).
124	“Im Denken ist kein Fließen, da ist lauter Stehen.”
zz If, despite this, consciousness of this flowing is supposed to be the basis of all con¬
sciousness, then it follows that the basis of all consciousness must originate with and be
mediated by acting, that is, by the power of imagination (p. 224).
125	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “Einbilden” for K’s “Einbildung.”

416	§ 17
medium of the concept of a goal, which could occur only insofar as the
concept of a goal is, as it were, a tinted and differentiating126 glass
{through which the object arises. This is how things stood in the synthe¬
sis of causality, and} this is also what occurs in the case of the category of
substance. {Here too the determining subject is viewed only through the
medium of the process of pulling together and combining, and only by
being viewed in this manner does this subject become an active subject.
Thus, here too there is something that mediates and something medi¬
ated, as in the synthesis of causality.} The difference between the cate¬
gory of substance and that of causality is that what is determined in the
former case is not something that first comes into being by means of this
synthesisAAA (as it does in the case of the synthesis of causality); instead,
{the object} is presupposed {along with} the pure act of thinking by
means of which the act of {self-}determining first comes into being.127
■ Previously, {in the synthesis of causality,} we considered one thing to
be, in a certain respect, a mediating subject and something else to be
what was mediated thereby. The situation here {in the primary
synthesis} is different: the elements of the manifold are thought of
alongside one another, {and one is not thought of [only] through the me¬
dium of another}. They are thought of in a relationship of reciprocal in¬
teraction rather than one of dependence. Such a manifold, however, is
not dismembered, in the manner of a manifold whose members are alien
to one another; instead, {all the points} mesh with one another and are
likewise128 mediated {by one another—not in such a way that one point
is, in a certain respect, only mediating and not at the same time
mediated,} but only in such a way {that each is in the same respect me¬
diating and mediated and} the predicates of one apply to the other. Each
is viewed through the medium of the other. Accordingly, the original act
involved in the present synthesis is, so to speak, “twofold”; indeed, it
could not be otherwise with the original act of the I, which is always two¬
fold. {In this duality one thing is viewed through the medium of the
other.}
Elucidation: {Let us consider more closely what has just been said, and (226)
we will discover one of the most important results of the
Wissenschaftslehre.} The determination of the mind I am now discussing
{is a single point or act, which} contains within itself the main threads
and basic elements of consciousness in its entirety. This is a distinctive
126	Reading, with H, “spaltendes” for K’s “gespaltenes” (“cracked”).
AAA [. . . ] by means of the act of determining (p. 225).
127	“daß ein reines Denken wodurch das Bestimmen erst enstanden wäre vorausgesezt
wird.” This passage actually states “that a pure act of thinking, by means of which the act
of determining would first arise, is presupposed.” This makes little sense in the present
context, however, and is consequently emended in the light of the parallel passage in H:
“daß mit dem reinen Denken wodurch das sich bestimmen erst entstanden wäre, d. Object
vorausgesezt wird.”
128	Reading, with H, “gleichfals” for K’s “gleichsam” (“so to speak”).

§ i7 4*7
feature of the Wissenschaftslehre. Other philosophies present a simple act
of thinking in a merely mechanical series, and not, {like the Wissen¬
schaftslehre, a compound act of thinking} in an organic series. Our
physics129 is related to the usual sort of physics in the same way {that our
metaphysics is related to the usual sort of metaphysics}: whereas mech¬
anism rules everywhere in the usual physics, {organicism rules every¬
where in ours}. The Fichtean variety of physics recognizes no simple
force = A; instead, it treats every A as a collection of several forces that
reciprocally interact with one another. {Every point represents a concen¬
tration of all the forces. This is also the case in our metaphysics.} Accord-
210 ingly, the Wissenschaftslehre is organic and discursive. The Wissenschaftslehre
contains nothing but syntheses. The synthesis we are presently consid¬
ering, {the one we have called “A,”} is the fundamental synthesis, within
which discursive thinking first arises. A tree, for example, is constituted
by a certain organic force, not by sap, bark, a trunk, etc., {which are
products of this organic force}. So here with consciousness: the inner na¬
ture of consciousness does not consist of thinking in time or of an end¬
less chain of causes and effects. These constitute, so to speak, the leaves,
the sap, and the fruit [of consciousness]; the inner nature of conscious¬
ness, {i.e., synthesis A, from which the former are produced,} is origi¬
nally unitary.
■	This synthesis {= A} contains two series, both of which begin with A,
the act of determining myself. On the one side there arises a determi¬
nate being,130 by means of which a product in the sensible world is ob¬
served. Viewed from the other side [of the central synthesis] this is also
an act of self-determining, but here it appears as an agility, viewed
through the medium of the manifold of that which I could determine
myself to become.BBB
■	Both aspects of synthesis A are united in a single moment. No relation¬
ship of [simple] dependence is present in this moment, but mediation
129	“Fichtes Physik.” Just as Kant found room within his Critical philosophy for a treat¬
ment of the “metaphysical first principles of the natural sciences,” in which he discussed,
in general terms, the applicability of the categories to nature, so too, Fichte considered
“natural philosophy” to constitute a distinct portion of the entire system of the Wissen¬
schaftslehre. Despite the reference to “Fichte’s physics,” however, he never published any¬
thing under this title nor did he ever lecture on this topic, though scattered comments on
it can be found in his various published and unpublished writings (for example, in § 19,
below). For an informed discussion of “Fichte’s physics” which emphasizes the crucial dif¬
ferences between the transcendental theory of natural science developed by Kant and
Fichte and the very different sort of speculative Naturphilosophie advocated by Schelling
and Hegel, see Reinhard Lauth, Die transzendentale Naturlehre Fichtes nach den Prinzipien der
Wissenschaftslehre (Hamburg: Meiner, 1984).
130	“Bestimmtsein.”
BBB We have a double series in synthesis A. It commences with an act of self-
determining, through the medium of which I observe a determinate being—through the
medium of which [in turn] I observe an object in the sensible world. This is the first series.
On the other side there is again an act of self-determining, which I view through the me¬
dium of the imagination as something determinable, as an agility to which I could deter¬
mine myself. This is the second series (p. 226).

418	§ 17
is present nevertheless. The mediation that is present here is not the
sort in which one term is viewed through the other, but not vice versa;
instead, they are here related through reciprocal interaction. In a rela¬
tionship of this sort, a is present by means of b and, in the same respect,
b is present by means of a; {both are lenses, and} each is viewed through
the other. {This is [a relationship of] absolute simultaneity, reciprocity.}
The situation is as follows: First there is a pure act of thinking which
determines itself. Within the synthesis, this pure act of thinking is
{posited as} viewed through the medium of the imagination and is itself
made sensible {thereby}. In this process of sensibilization, the pure con¬
cept of a goal is transformed into the determinacy of a sensible force,
and what is thereby produced is itself a sensible object.ccc
{I am an intellect, and thus my determinations are nothing but acts of
pure thinking. Nevertheless, I view myself as a sensuous force, as exer¬
cising an effect upon sensible objects and producing sensible products.
How is this possible? The dogmatist will answer this question by appeal¬
ing to the influence exercised upon us by external matter. But we who
are not dogmatists must show how pure thinking is transformed into a (227)
sensuous force. This has now been accomplished. The transformation in
question occurs as a result of the fact that I can observe my own pure
thinking only through the medium of a sensuous vehicle, through which
my act of pure thinking itself becomes sensible.} Here we must examine,
first of all in a general way, how the intellect comes to ascribe to itself a
sensuous force, i.e., a body, and how it is able to ascribe to itself an ex¬
pression of the force of the latter, {i.e, a determination of this body}. An
expression of the body’s force is nothing whatsoever but an act of pure
thinking, simply viewed through the medium of the imagination. My act
of thinking that my hand moves is identical with the {actual} movement
of my hand: when I am immediately conscious of this, it is an act of
thinking; whereas, when I consider it through the medium of the imag¬
ination, it is an {actual} movement. The entire {sensible} world is con¬
nected with this process by means of which [the intellect] is made
sensible. In the present case, this process of sensibilization extends
merely to something determinate.
Dogmatists who {consider the world to be something that exists by it¬
self and who} nevertheless retain their moral and religious sentiments
have to say that God created the world. {They cannot, however, explain
this any further; for no understanding is produced, no matter how the
211 dogmatist construes this claim.} The dogmatists consider God to be a
pure intellect, the determinations of which can surely consist in nothing
but concepts. This is also how the I has been considered here: it is a
ccc In this process of sensibilization, the pure concept of a goal becomes a determinacy,
a sensuous force; and what is produced by this sensuous or sensible force becomes a sen¬
sible object (p. 226).

§ i7 4*9
{pure} intellect, and its determinations are nothing but pure concepts. A
material world is also present for the I, and therefore these pure con¬
cepts must transform themselves into a material world—though only
into one that exists purely for the intellect. In the case of God, in con¬
trast, these pure concepts must be transformed into a self-sufficient ma¬
terial world, one that also exists for another intellect {— which is quite
unintelligible}.000 The transcendental idealist has to explain only the
former process; i.e., he has to show how the pure concepts {of a finite
intellect}, considered in a certain way, transform themselves into mate¬
rial substances, {[that is,] into a material world for this intellect—which
is something that can and should be shown by the philosopher}. We have
now described this process up to the point where we ourselves are made
sensible.
{The concepts of the intellect are transformed in the manner de¬
scribed: inasmuch as we view these concepts through the medium of the
imagination we arrive at an act of determining ourselves in a sensible
manner; and by means of this act of determining, in accordance with the
previously indicated laws, we arrive at a determinate object.} A pure
concept is made sensible: this was the first element in the synthesis. The
imagination is viewed through the medium of pure thinking and {what
is determinable} thereby becomes determinate, and there then arises a
process of reciprocal interaction, by means of which what is originally
determinable itself becomes a whole, a system:131 this is the second el¬
ement. {If this determinable [whole] is related to the determining
subject,} it becomes a body {for me}. But if it is related to what is deter- (228)
minate without any assistance from us, {it becomes} the entire {sensible}
world.
■ The entire structure132 of the I is based upon the act of determining
and what is determined. {I-hood consists in the division of the I into a
subjective and an objective [1]. This is the fundamental law. When I be¬
come conscious of I-hood, a split occurs between the ideal and the real,
which are originally one. What is real or objective is, in turn, both a de¬
termining agency and something determinate.} What is determinable in
DDD God is a pure intellect; such an intellect, however, must also possess pure concepts.
But how are these concepts supposed to be transformed into matter? To be sure, this is also
the situation within transcendental idealism: the I is a pure intellect, and it must therefore
also possess pure concepts, and these must transform themselves into a material world.
There is a great difference, however, between the alleged sensibilization of the concepts of
an infinite intellect and the sensibilization of the concepts of a finite intellect: the sensible
world that is produced by the finite intellect exists only for this intellect itself and for no
other intellect; accordingly, its pure concepts have to be sensibilized and become matter
only for itself. The sensible world produced by God, however, is supposed to be such for an
finite intellect—which is quite unintelligible (p. 227).
131	Reading, with H, “zu einem Ganzen, zu einem Systeme” for K’s “zu einem ganzen
Systeme” (“becomes an entire system”).
132	“die ganze Eintheilung” (more literally: “the entire division”).

420	§ 17
this first case lies {on the other side [of the synthesis], in what is ideal,}
in substance; and insofar as this is {not grasped simply by the imagina¬
tion alone, but is also} grasped by pure thinking, it is [grasped] as a
whole, for thinking is always a whole. Furthermore, insofar as this de¬
terminable whole is referred to the duality of the act of determining and
determinate being, it itself appears as a whole in two different ways: in
relation to the determining subject, what is determinable is my body; in
relation to a determinate being, what is determinable is the entire
world. Thus {we here obtain an important result:} I = X; I as soul and
I as body: these are simply two different aspects of the very same thing.
Furthermore, I as body and the sensible world outside of me are also
particular aspects of one and the same thing. {I = X, body, mind, and
sensible world; these are simply different ways of looking at exactly the
same thing. This constitutes the spirit of the Wissenschaftslehre.}
■	Everything in the Wissenschaftslehre is based upon this dual aspect {of
consciousness. Consciousness in its entirety is a synthesis, which includes
a highest, subjective term = X and a lowest, objective one = matter in
space.} Between what is highest (I = X), and what is lowest (formless
substance) there lie various elements that, in their twofold relationship
to what is highest and what is lowest, are subjective {in relation to what
is lowest, to matter,} and objective {in relation to what is highest}. How¬
ever, {all these are one, and} I myself am always the {sole} object {of con¬
sciousness; and I continuously divide myself in accordance with the laws
of consciousness itself. This is now clearly and plainly evident.}
■	For myself, I am incomprehensible, a subject-object. Within experi¬
ence, I divide myself into a subject and an object, which, to be sure,
should be thought of as originally one.EEE This I of empirical conscious-
212 ness can be posited only within time, and when it is posited in this way,
it is the soul. When this same I is made sensible in space it is the body—
which, in turn, is nothing other than the world. Everything {— the pure
I, the mind, the soul, the body, the world —} is one and the same, simply
regarded each time under a different aspect.
■	{We assert, first of all, that} in synthesis A pure thinking is viewed
through the medium of the imagination, and {second, that in synthesis
A} the imagination is viewed through the medium of pure thinking. The
duality {contained in the synthesis} arises in this way, and the concept of
substantialityFFF becomes complete {thereby as well}; i.e., {(A)} it be¬
comes a self-contained,133 {limited} quantum. Moreover, {(B)} an acci¬
dent is related to this substance and viewed through the medium of the
EEE When I become comprehensible to myself, or when I become conscious, I divide my¬
self into a subject and an object, which, to be sure, are viewed as one in my empirical I
(p. 228).
FFF [. . . ] the concept of substance (p. 228).
133	“geschloPenes.

§17	421
latter. {Accordingly, when I view the noumenon through the imagina- (229)
tion, and thereby observe its self-contained character, it becomes for me
a substance. [On the other hand,] when I view what is substantial
through the medium of pure thinking, it then becomes for me, in this
respect, an accident.} In relation to the determining subject, the acci¬
dent related to this substance is the individual act that is selected from
the manifold of possible acts {and is then comprehended}. In relation to
what is determinate, the accident related to this substance is the partic¬
ular matter that is chosen from all the rest. {[I.e.,] of all the possible
modifications of what is determinate, this one is selected and is related
to the substance.} When what is observed is the determining subject,
then I am the substance— which is how I appear to myself from the
point of view of ordinary consciousness, where I am a body. When what
is observed is what is determinate, then the world is the substance. With
respect to me, what is determinate [i.e., the “accident” of my “substan¬
tial” body] is my own act—e.g., the movement of my hand. As related to
the world, this same determinate something is an accident that is accom¬
plished in the sensible world by the determining subject—e.g., the let¬
ters I have written.GGG
Remark: Substantiality cannot be thought of apart from causality, nor
can causality be thought of apart from substance. {Admittedly, from
Kant’s account of these it might seem as if this were possible. This is why
Platner asked how substantiality could exist without causality.134} An ac¬
cident is never anything other than a determinate expression of the in¬
ner force, and hence [an instance of] the efficacy of the latter. Substance
would be the power to act efficaciously,135 a power that is always consid¬
ered capable of producing a variety of different effects. Conversely, ef¬
ficacy cannot be thought of except in relation to some {inner} force, and
the force in question is identical to the innermost core of substance
itself.136, HHH {There is thus no causality apart from substantiality.} The
synthesis of these two categories {of causality and substantiality} is the
category of reciprocal interaction, which is based upon the necessity of
deriving the external power from the pure power, and vice versa.111
Reciprocal interaction is the category of categories. Substantiality and
causality are coordinated with each other, but both are subordinate to
the category of reciprocal interaction. {Everything proceeds from the
ggg js determinate with relation to me is my act; when this same accident is re¬
lated to the world, then it is the matter that is produced by this determination (p. 229).
134	See Ernst Platner, Philosophischen Aphorismen, Part I (1793), § 768 (= AA II, 4s: 216-
17)-
135	“das Würkende Vermögen.”
136	“ist gleich dem Centrum des Innern der Substanz selbst.”
hhh Thjs ¡nner force is the inner root and inner substrate (p. 229).
111 The syntheses of causality and substantiality are thought of together in [the category
of] reciprocal interaction, which is necessarily based upon the union of these two catego¬
ries (p. 229).

422	§ 17
category of reciprocal interaction. According to what was said above, our
every act of thinking of anything is an act of thinking of reciprocal in¬
teraction and interrelations.}
■ We can think of nothing but relations. To a certain extent, Kant says
this too, though without making any broader application of the point;
(for he says that} the third category is always produced from the union
of the first two—of substantiality and causality, [for example].137 This is
213 correct and well said. Kant certainly wanted to establish a pure idealism.
From the purely philosophical point of view, however, where one hovers
above the synthesis, one finds that the categories of reciprocity and sub¬
stantiality are coordinated with causality itself. {However—and this is
the important point—from the philosophical point of view one always (230)
observes syntheses within the category of reciprocal interaction. The
category of reciprocal interaction simultaneously involves synthesizing
and analyzing. It is not something given; instead, it produces itself.
The question we had to answer was this: How does the immediate self-
consciousness of the I come about, and how does all other consciousness
stem from this? We have now answered this question.}
§ 17
As we know, the I is what acts upon itself,138 and, by virtue of this self-
directed activity, it is a willing subject. “The I discovers itself”: this ob¬
viously means that it discovers itself to be engaged in acting upon itself.
The I discovers itself to be a willing subject in this self-directed activity,
because its original nature—which cannot be derived from anything
higher,but must instead be presupposed for {the possibility of} any
explanation—consists in an act of willing. Every object of {the I’s} free
reflection upon itself must consequently become its own willing.
Remark A: {The view we have of our own willing is itself a sensible
one.} Willing is first of all a self-active or spontaneous act of determin¬
ing. Every {intuition of an} act of determining is mediated by the imag¬
ination. {All determining} is an active {self-}determining in which one
determines a concept of a goal, {an act of determining through which a
real, determinate object is posited. Therefore, every act of willing ac¬
tively determines a concept of a goal, by which, in turn, an object is sup¬
posed to be determined. This is what distinguishes an act of willing from
a purely objective act of thinking. The opposition between the thing and
the concept [of a goal], however, as well as the connection between them,
137	See KRV, B110-11.
138	Reading, with H, “das auf sich selbst thatige” for K’s “das durch sich selbst thatige”
(“what is active through itself”), a reading that is confirmed by the rest of this paragraph.
[. . . ] which cannot be explained any further [. . . ] (p. 230).

§ i7 423
is something purely sensible, which is made possible by the power of
imagination.} Consequently, the entire concept of willing is sensible. Ev¬
ery act of willing is an appearance, and pure willing is presupposed
merely in order to explain {actual willing. It is never present within an
act of empirical willing, and this is precisely why it is incomprehensible
and why we are unable to think of it.} It cannot be grasped by our rep¬
resentations, nor can it be grasped by our language, {for we ourselves
are sensible}. [“Pure willing,”] “absolute selfhood,” “autonomy,” “free¬
dom”: these expressions are all equally incomprehensible. Freedom can
be described only negatively: as not being determined. {Kant said (and
so do we) that freedom, negatively defined, is the power to be the first (231)
rather than the second [member of a series].139 It can be positively de¬
fined as the power to make an absolute beginning.} Again, this is a sen¬
sible definition. {Therefore, what has to be explained remains
incomprehensible to us.} In short, pure willing is what makes it possible
for me to think of myself as self-active, {as a cause}—i.e., to think of my¬
self as “I.” Pure willing is the material [element] in all consciousness. In
order to explain the formal {[element] within consciousness}, one has to
presuppose an act of reflection. This (= X) {is something twofold, which
all explanation has to presuppose; it} is the absolute, which is nothing
but a foundation or ground {and does not itself possess a foundation in
anything else}. It contains within itself something absolutely subjective
{( = a power to be subjective, namely, reflection)} and something abso¬
lutely objective {(= a power to be objective, namely, pure thinking). Ev¬
ery explanation presupposes this twofold [X] as something that cannot
be explained any further. Everything else has to be explained on the ba¬
sis of these two elements.}
{Continuation of § 17}140
Every act of reflection is an act of self-determining, and the reflecting
subject immediately intuits this act of self-determining. But it intuits this
act through the medium of the imagination, and, accordingly, it intuits it
as a sheer power of self-determination. By means of this abstract act of
139	See KRV, A450/B478. That is to say, freedom is the power to initiate a new series of
things or states.
149 This heading from H is not included in K, nor is this paragraph included in the tran¬
scribed text of all Fichte’s dictata which appears at the beginning of K (an oversight rem¬
edied in the present translation). Despite these omissions, the following paragraph
undoubtedly represents a continuation of Fichte’s dictated summary of § 17, as the head¬
ing in H indicates. This is further indicated in K by the use of Latin script, and in H by the
use of quotation marks. This surmise can also be supported by comparing the text of this
paragraph in K with the virtually identical text in H; for no matter how much K and H
differ elsewhere, their versions of the summary paragraphs are always nearly identical.

424	§ 17
thinking (as a power) the I arises for itself as “something”—something
214	purely spiritual,141 something exclusively ideal—and becomes conscious
of its own activity of pure thinking and willing, and becomes conscious
of it as such, {that is, as an activity}. This act of reflection, however, is an
act of self-determining; but the previously described act of imagination
is an act of the I, and it is therefore determinate. Consequently, in one
and the same undivided act, pure thinking is made sensible by the imag¬
ination, and what is made sensible by the imagination is determined by
pure thinking (reciprocal interaction of intuiting and thinking). This de¬
termination produces a self-contained power of the IKKK as a sensuous
force, as well as a determinacy of this power142 (concept of substantial¬
ity). An object is added in thought to the determinacy of this sensuous
force, and the latter determines the former in an act of thinkingLLL
(concept of causality).
Recapitulation in a Popular Form
The I is what is self-determining, what makes itself into something de¬
terminate. Therefore, to say that “the I discovers itself” means that it
discovers this act of self-determining, {this act of making itself something
determinate}; for, despite what the dogmatist says, concepts {of things}
do not lie within me in a finished state, as something original.
{Therefore, when the Wissenschaftslehre begins with a concept of the I, (232)
this does not mean that this concept lies within us as something original,
which is not produced.} To say that “this [concept of the I] is the first
concept” means that even this concept is produced from a manifold that
is displayed before us. In order to discover this process of self-production
as something determinate, there must be a comparison between my be¬
ing (what is determinate) and my doing (the process by means of which
I make myself into this determinate something). {In order to appear to
myself as something determinate, I must (1) make myself into some¬
thing determinate, and (2) be determinate.}
But how do I know that I do this? I know this only insofar as I have
immediate knowledge of doing it, and I know that this is I myself insofar
as I have immediate knowledge of this being.143 {Hence I am both the
“doing” of which I have immediate knowledge and the “being” of which
I have immediate knowledge.} No further response to this question is
141	“ein rein Geistiges,” i.e., something purely “intellectual.”
KKK 1 • • • 1 power, the I [. . . ] (p. 231).
142	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “derselben” for K’s “desselben.”
LLLAn object is added in thought to the determinacy of this sensuous force, and
through the latter an act of thinking is determined (p. 231).
143	“daß ich ich selbst das sei, weis ich daß ich unmittelbar von diesem Sein weiß.”

§ 17	425
required. The only remaining question to be answered is this: “How do
I know that this being is produced by this doing of mine?” An answer to
this question would, {at the same time,} be a deduction of self-
consciousness, along with a deduction of all other consciousness. {This is
explained further in the [System of] Ethical Theory.144 I write something,
and hence I have a representation of my act of writing. But the person
next to me is also writing something. How do I know that my act of writ¬
ing is not that of another person? Does the basis [of my knowledge of
this distinction] lie in some objective property of what is written, or does
it lie in my own thinking? It obviously lies in my thinking. I have knowl¬
edge of my act of writing only insofar as I know that I will to write some¬
thing. What is objective is determined by what is subjective. Question:
How do I know that a particular being is produced by a particular kind
of doing?
■ Answer:} Doing and being are simply two different sides of one and
the same thing. This dual aspect has to exist if an I is to exist at all, for
the I first arises from this {duality. For example, I could not say, “This is
my act of writing” if I did not view my writing through the medium of
my act of determining—that is, unless the duality of doing and being
were present. Consequently, I also obtain a representation of the I only
insofar as I have knowledge of both doing and being. These are the same
thing.} When the I observes its own pure thinking through the medium
of the imagination, an instance of doing arises for the I. When it thinks,
in turn, of what {lies within the synthesis, that is, of what} is presented by
the imagination, this becomes a being. Therefore, the I necessarily con¬
sists of both pure thinking and pure willing. If an I is posited, this {—
[that is,] the original character of the act of self-production, the original
character of the act of pure thinking, and, along with this, the original
character of the act of pure willing —} is posited. {And conversely, as
soon as the original character of the pure act of thinking, etc., is posited,
the I is posited as well.} Furthermore, a consciousness of this original
character of the I {is also posited}, and insofar as the latter is posited, this (233)
double aspect [of the I] is posited. {Accordingly,} if an I is posited, then
a consciousness of the sort just described is {also} posited. {The repre¬
sentation of I-hood rests upon the reciprocal interaction between think¬
ing mediated by imagination and imagination mediated by thinking,
between doing and being; and all other consciousness—as well as the
system of the same—is based upon this representation of I-hood.}
The [concept of the] I is not a simple concept, for there are no simple
concepts whatsoever. The concept of the I is {always} assembled in the
manner described.
144	See the Introduction to Das System der Sittenlehre (SW, IV: 1-12).

215
§ i8
This original synthesis, {by means of which consciousness of the I— (233)
and thereby all other consciousness—comes into being,} provides us
with a secure standpoint, and we now may either make this synthesis it¬
self into the object of our inquiry or else adopt the perspective of this
very synthesis and examine individually the various different acts of
{concrete} thinking {contained therein. We may proceed in this manner
without hesitation; [indeed,]} systematic demands require that we do so.
{Therefore,} let us now adopt the standpoint of the synthesis itself and
examine one of the discrete acts of thinking thought of within this syn¬
thesis. Our investigation of this will, in turn, lead us back to the primary
synthesis. Our plan is as follows: From the start we have established that
the {primary} synthesis {contains something twofold,} a being and an act
of thinking, which are necessarily united with each other. More pre¬
cisely, it contains two opposed types of thinking, one ideal, the other
real. The entire difference between these two types of thinking lies sim¬
ply in the different way in which the intellect is determined in each case.
Ideal and real thinking are one and the same thing, {simply viewed from
different sides}. We have viewed both types of thinking as necessarily
united in1 the category of reciprocal interaction. These two types of
thinking {constitute the main components of the synthesis in question,
and,} taken together, they completely exhaust the same. Hence, {since
with these two types of thinking we have everything that lies within the
synthesis, and since this synthesis comprises consciousness in its
entirety,} we can be sure that everything present in consciousness is con¬
tained in these two types of thinking. Consequently, we can now {quite
confidently} begin our reflections from these {two points}, and, in doing
so, we will treat each as a distinct act of thinking. For the moment, how¬
ever, we should note that every act of thinking, {including the one we are
1	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “in” for K’s “mit.”
[426]

§ i8 427
about to investigate,} takes place in accordance with the {synthetic} rules
of thinking; every act of thinking possesses its own {synthetic} scope and
constitutes a synthetic period in its own right. {We will now consider
each of these particular acts of thinking [i.e., ideal and real thinking] in
the same way we have considered the main synthesis until now. The syn¬
thetic period contained in the main synthesis is not contained in it alone;
instead, all the rules of synthesis are also observed in the subordinate
syntheses.
The rule exhibited in the main synthesis is as follows: I cannot think
of anything without also thinking of something else; I cannot think of
myself as determinate unless I also think of some sort of determinability.
This rule also applies to the subordinate acts of thinking we have dis¬
cerned within the main synthesis. We now wish to turn our attention to
these subordinate acts.} Such an investigation, therefore, will be our (234)
next task (for within the Wissenschaftslehre an organic way of thinking al-
216 ways prevails; see above).2 To be sure, for the purposes of speculation,
we always remain free to separate what is manifold in order to obtain a
clear understanding {thereof}; we must always remember, however, that
we are never dealing with anything but a component of the highest3 syn¬
thesis {and that this is not something that exists separately in itself.
Consequently,} our present undertaking will {simply} be to expand this
[original] synthesis “from the inside out,” as it were. {In the previous §
we grasped only the innermost point of this synthesis. Beginning with
this point, we will now further expand our inquiry in a circle radiating
from this center.} In the previous § we carried our investigation only to
the point where we assumed that some product of our causal power ex¬
ists in the sensible world. But {our experience is not thereby exhausted,
for it is clear that} the actually given world, {the actual “stuff,”} the sen¬
sible world that exists without any help from us, has not yet been de¬
duced. This still remains to be accomplished. {We said that I discover
myself to be determined, and through this I discover the object pro¬
duced by my own act of determining. Through my own act of writing, I
am conscious of the letters [I write]. Yet, at the same time, I am also con¬
scious of other objects as well (e.g., of the paper, etc.), and these objects
are also my products. From where does this latter sort of consciousness
come? It follows that our synthesis must continue further. Expressed dif¬
ferently, the complete synthetic period contains, as we have already
seen, something fivefold. As yet, however,} we have presented only a
threefold synthesis: {A} On the one side, {in} the ideal {series}, [lies]
the concept of a goal. {B} On the other side, {in} the real series, [lies]
{the concept of} causality. {C} In the middle lies the concept of {the “ab¬
solute” element contained within the cause, the concept of} the purely
2	See § 17, Pt. II, 4, ii.
3	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “der obsersten” for K’s “der.”

428	§ i8
self-active I.A This synthesis has to be fivefold; that is to say, an addi¬
tional member must be added on either side, {to both the ideal and the
real series. This will be our present task.}
■ More precise characterization of ideal and real thinking—“more
precise,” because here we will be drawing conclusions from premises
that were merely jumbled together above, {in the preceding §}: (Each of
these acts of thinking must be characterized individually in advance, be¬
cause ideal and real thinking are here to be further determined in terms
of each other; {therefore, one must be well acquainted with each of them
by itself before one can determine their reciprocal influence upon each
other}.) Ideal thinking occurs when the act of determining (= the act of
thinking) is viewed through the medium of the imagination and is
thereby transformed into a pure movement or into a sheer “doing,”
though no product of this appears here. (As we explained above, our ac¬
tivity always appears® as a flowing movement. {We also showed that this
aspect of “doing” is a sensible or sensuous one, the foundation of which
is to be sought exclusively within the laws of representation. Doing ap- (235)
pears in this manner when the mere noumenon is synthetically united
with the manifold and, by means of this unification, is propelled
through the entire manifold.} In a certain respect, however, this flowing
movement appears to be an actual, determinate being,4 and a product
{of doing} then arises as well. Here, {however,} we will abstract from this
and will consider this [act of ideal thinking] simply as a “doing,” as we
did above in our account of the pure concept of a goal.) Nothing is
present {within the mind} in this case but a purely ideal act of thinking.
{Conversely,} a real act of thinking occurs when an act of determining
which has now been made sensible and which lies before us [as such] is
once again determined through an act of pure thinking. Within ideal
thinking, the act of thinking appears to be entirely free {and views itself
in this manner}; within real thinking, it views itself as constrained, and
from this there arises a feeling: specifically, a feeling of being compelled
to think in a certain way.
(1) {I appear to myself to be engaged in constructing a concept of a
goal.} When I construct a concept of a goal I freely determine myself:
“Should I now do this, or should I do that?” Here, {in the act of
217 deliberation,} my own {self-determining} force is related to each of the
possible cases that occur to me.5 But how do I6 know that I possess a
A [ . . . ] the concept of the absolutely active I (p. 234).
B Consciousness as a whole appears [.. . ] (p. 234).
4	“ein würkliches bestimmtsein.”
5	“Hier wird meine Kraft an alle diese mögliche Falle gehalten.”
6	Reading, with H, “ich” for K’s “man” (“one”). Throughout the following section, the
text of K rather confusingly mixes first-, second-, and third-person, singular and plural,
pronouns, for which (following H) the translation generally substitutes first-person singu¬
lar references.

§ i8 429
self-determining force? {I know this because} this force lies within me; it
is contained within my own free act of thinking. Here, {in the concept of
a goal,} I appear to myself as a sheer noumenon, {as free}. Now I assert
“I will this,” and {as soon as I make a decision} this oscillation, {this con¬
tinuing process of considering my self-determining force in relation to
the manifold,} is brought to an end. My thought is now focused upon a
single point, and {a determinacy is brought into being thereby}; once
again, this happens as a result of a free act of thinking, etc. I, as a
noumenon, here appear to myself in a double light:c (1) Insofar as I re¬
late my own determinacy to the manifold of choice, {[i.e.,] insofar as the
concept of a goal is to be possible,} I appear to be presupposed as a
noumenon “as such” or “in general.” {In this case, I relate this noume¬
non to all the different possibilities of action.} (2) [At the same time,] I
appear to myself as an empirical consciousness—something produced,
generated, determined {in a certain manner within the concept of a
goal. The concept of a goal contains a [determinate consciousness] = X,
an act of self-determining = Y, and a manifold that is involved in this act
of determining = Z. Pure thinking is directed at the first of these.
I view an act of pure thinking through the medium of the imagina¬
tion, and in turn, I view the imagination through the medium of an act
of pure thinking. This is what concerns us here.
Our goal was to provide a more precise characterization of the acts of
real and ideal thinking we have established. We are already familiar with
the intermediate concepts that have been presupposed for this purpose.
Ideal thinking occurs when an act of determining is perceived through
the medium of the imagination; as a result, it is transformed into a do- (236)
ing, though no product thereof appears. Real thinking occurs when an
act of determining which has been made sensible is, in turn, determined
by pure thinking. In the former case, the act of thinking is viewed as
free; in the latter case, it is viewed as constrained.
These two acts of thinking are absolutely united with each other, and
within this unity the distinctive character of each becomes even clearer.
The determinacy of thinking which I discover is a determinacy I assign
to myself. I view this determinacy through the medium of my own act of
determining, and I would know nothing whatsoever about this determi¬
nacy apart from this act of determining. Consequently, this determinacy
is nothing but my own act of determining myself,7 viewed as something
determinate; and conversely, this act of determining is itself nothing and
is not intuited at all except in order to intuit this determinacy. Thus
there is no acting without some action that is contemplated,8 and there
is no action apart from acting. Every determination of consciousness has
c This determinacy, or this noumenon, can be looked at in two ways (p. 235).
7	Reading “als das Bestimmen meiner selbst” for H’s “als durch das Bestimmen meiner
selbst.”
8	“So giebt es kein Handeln ohne eine Handlung die beabsichtigt wird.”

43°	§ l8
a double aspect: on the one hand, it appears as a determinacy, as some¬
thing real; on the other, since it cannot be viewed as something deter¬
minate except by means of an act of determining, it also appears as an
act of determining. There is no act of determining which does not result
in some determinacy; nor is there any determinacy except by means of
some act of determining, for the former is perceived through the me¬
dium of the latter, as a mediating term.}
There is a here a conflict between, on the one hand, the expressions
we employ and the way we necessarily have to view [what we are describ¬
ing] and, on the other, the topic we want to think about. {Our means of
expression are never adequate to the topic of this inquiry. Despite all our
efforts, we can never extend our inquiry beyond the primary synthesis;
we always remain within the latter. We cannot obtain any intuition ex¬
cept by means of the power of imagination, and with this we already find
ourselves to be within the primary synthesis.} Try as we might, we can
never exhaust our investigation of the primary synthesis. Consequently,
we could never intuit what is determinate and the determining subject
as one and the same, for they are separate within this synthesis. {For us,
[therefore,] they will always remain discrete and separate.} To think of
them as one and the same is no more than a task. {Thus when we say
here that what is determinate and the act of determining are one and
the same, this simply means that we are able to think of the rule (or the
task) in accordance with which we would have to proceed if we were able
to think of them as one. The case is the same with the original I = the
subject-object. This is incomprehensible to me, and the reason for this
lies within my own finitude. The only way I can think of this I = X is to
think of the task of obtaining a concept of this X—a task that can be
stated as follows: “Think of the rule in accordance with which you would
have to proceed if it were possible to think of X.”}
■	Within the main synthesis this act of determining and the determi¬
nate being are one, but we are unable to grasp this. Philosophy neces¬
sarily begins with something {unthinkable, something} incomprehensible,
with the original synthesis of the imagination. Similarly, it also begins
with something unintuitable, with the original synthesis of thinking.0
{Therefore,} this {first} act, {with which philosophy begins,} can neither
be thought of nor intuited, {for something occurs in consciousness only
insofar as the two elements that constitute this original act are separated}.
Therefore, once again, all we can do is simply propose this as a task. Ev¬
erything else is obtainable [within consciousness], because everything
else is accomplished within experience.
■	In short, I engage in “real thinking” when I feel myself to be com¬
pelled {and determined} [in a certain way]. The reason for this
D [. . . ] with the original act of thinking (p. 236).

§ i8 431
{compulsion} is that I have determined myself [in this way]. When I
think of {this doing, of} this act of determining,9 I am then engaged in
an act of thinking idealiter. Unlike an act of real thinking, an act of ideal
thinking is not united with a feeling {—though whether a feeling may
not be united with the product of an act of ideal thinking is another
question}.
We have already assembled these acts of {ideal and real} thinking
{from their components; we did this in the preceding § and will not do
it here}. Here we encounter each of these two acts of thinking as a whole
in its own right; {each is here already determined for itself,} and we now
wish to relate them to each other and to discover how each is determined
by the other. {We can freely choose the one with which we will begin our
investigation of this relationship.} Let us begin by considering how real
thinking is related to ideal thinking.
(2) Considered from one side, my state within the original synthesis is {a
determinate one,} an act of real thinking; hence it is impossible that this
218 same state could also be an indeterminate one. Accordingly, the act of
ideal thinking, which also occurs within this same state, must itself be
determined along with the latter.
This does not mean that the act of ideal thinking loses its ideal char¬
acter. Both [ideal and real thinking] must subsist10 alongside each other,
for otherwise no I could subsist. {Therefore, both real and ideal thinking
occur in a single state of synthesis. Real thinking is a determinate act of
thinking, and ideal thinking is an indeterminate one. How can some¬
thing indeterminate be present here? It cannot remain indeterminate;
consequently, determinacy must also be related to ideal thinking. This,
however, does not mean that, as a result of this determinacy, the act of
ideal thinking must lose its distinctive character. Instead, it must subsist
together with the act of determining. It should be and must remain an
act of ideal thinking, for otherwise I would have no I. The distinctive
character of ideal thinking and the determinate being of the same sub¬
sist together by virtue of the following:} Freedom as such, the act of de¬
termining, the sheer power [of the I], is itself posited as something
determinate.11 As a soul, the I itself becomes a substance possessing a
power that is determined in a certain, specific way. {Its state remains
unchanged;} it neither increases nor decreases (we are not referring
9	Reading, with H, “Denke ich dieses zu thun, dieses Bestimmen” for K’s “Denke ich
dieses bestimmte” (“when I think of what is determinate in this case”).
10	“bestehen.”
11	“die Freiheit als solche, das Bestimmen, das bloße Vermögen wird selbst gesezt als ein
bloßes Vermögen.” Reading, with H, “als ein Bestimmtes” for the second occurrence of the
phrase “eine bloßes Vermögen” in K (presumably an error of transcription on Krause’s
part).
(237)

432	§ i8
here to mental capacity).12 {What is a “substance”?} A substance is a
sheer power that is itself confined within limits. {How is this a “power”?}
It {is nothing actual, but} is a power only insofar as it is looked at through
the medium of the imagination. {How is this the determinacy of a sen¬
suous power?} It is a limited power {only} insofar as this act of construing
on the part of the imagination becomes determined by {a supersensible
act of determining, by} pure thinking. {The underlying ideal [act] does
not produce the material component of what is mental or spiritual. This
is something that is [already] present within the ideal act itself, which
produces only the limitation of this material.} Thus we here have, in a
sense, three acts: (1) When I think of myself as an absolutely self-active
force or energy, what I think about is the motive power of the substance.
This is the result of an absolutely pure act of thinking. (2) When I view
this {absolutely} pure {and simple} force through the medium of the
imagination, i.e., through the medium of the infinite number of possi¬
bilities for action, there thereby arises for me a force that possesses the
power [to be related] to an infinite manifold. (3) I now think of this same
force once again. This is not an act of pure thinking (= 1), nor is it an act
of the imagination (= 2); instead, it is an act of empirical thinking,
which is directed at the two previous acts in their unity with each other.
The limitation of what is spiritual or mental originates in this [third type
of] thinking {(a point that will become very important below)}. Only (238)
ideal or pure thinking is productive {of something real}; it {is what Kant
calls13 “the mere act of thinking of something,” which} produces nou-
mena. {The first act, that is, the act of pure thinking, produces the
content;14 the second, the [act of] the imagination, combines this in a
single, manifold whole; and the third, the [act of] empirical [thinking],
which is directed at the first two acts, divides the content.} Real thinking
is never more than an act of limiting and dividing what has already been
produced. This, which is the easiest part to grasp, is the foundation
upon which we will erect what is to come.
(3)	In this way the I, as mind, becomes something determinate—for we
are not yet talking about physical force. One cannot think in a determi¬
nate manner (i.e., one cannot think of something determinate), however,
without thinking of something determinable. An act of determinate
thinking is never anything but a movement of transition from determin-
219 ability to determinacy. (vide collegium: Logica et Metaphysica.)15 An act of
12	“Gemuthsvermogen.”
13	See KRV, A249.
14	“den Stoff.”
15	This is a reference to the “introductory” philosophy course Fichte regularly offered at
Jena under the title “Logic and Metaphysics,” employing as his text the first volume of
Ernst Platner’s Philosophischen Aphorismen. The transcript of these lectures (from the sum-

§ i8 433
mer semester of 1797), much of which was copied by the same student who prepared the
Kollegnachschrift of K, C. K. F. Krause, includes the following commentary on § 145 of Plat-
ner’s book, here translated in full:
“/ think. I am. ‘Being’ designates something stable and fixed. The being of matter in par¬
ticular is so constant1'6 that it offers resistance. Thinking is a kind of acting, and acting, as
such, possesses no constancy, but only agility, in which nothing present at one moment is
present in the next. It follows from what Platner says that I discover myself partly as acting
and partly as existing. Simply by intuiting an instance of acting, I discover myself as acting.
I also discover myself as existing, but not in this way. Everything material, everything that
constrains activity, is a being. But insofar as it is an act of thinking, all ideal activity is always
constrained and fixed. It is always directed at something, and the object at which it is
directed is a being. Consequently, if my act of thinking is directed at myself, then I am
a being.
“I am awakened to consciousness and have thought of A, B, C, D, etc. In all these
thoughts I have remained the same I, the thinking subject. A certain amount of time has
elapsed for me while I was thinking these thoughts, and I have always been and remained
the same I throughout this time. Here, says Platner, we do indeed encounter constancy,
being. But we do not have to resort to this [in order to explain the being of the I], nor does
this really explain anything. Even while I am thinking of A, I must already think of myself
as existing. I am the thinking subject who is thinking of A. The act of thinking of A is one
of my accidental properties, and all accidents are referred to a substance. Therefore, just
as surely as I comprehend that I am thinking of A, I also comprehend myself as existing;
i.e., I conceive of myself as being able to think without thinking of A and as being able to
feel and to will as well. I construe myself as a substance. I cannot posit any determinacy
whatsoever apart from determinability. I cannot posit anything particular without assum¬
ing the existence of something general, from which what is particular is supposed to have
arisen. Consequently, I cannot posit myself as determined to think of A without also think¬
ing of myself as generally determinable. This is the act of thinking of [my own] being.
Therefore, ‘I am’ is united with ‘I think.’ But the representation of a being does not arise
as a consequence of combining a manifold of thinking with the identity of the same.
“Thus we have now shown that the representation of a being must necessarily be present
within the I’s representation of itself. Therefore, what we have been talking about here is
the being of the I for itself.
“The concept of myself does not arise by means of abstraction, as Platner claimed. This
claim has been refuted.
“The concept of the being of the I does arise by means of abstraction. The concept of the
I’s thinking arises through a determinate act of thinking, but the concept of the I precedes
all thinking.
“ ‘I am, I think’: This is supposed to be a feeling. But this ‘I am, I think,’ as a whole,17
is not a feeling; it is a thought. It is a feeling only insofar as I discover myself to be limited.
I can indeed say, ‘I feel myself to be limited.’ But I cannot say, ‘I have a feeling of myself
as such or in general.’ Instead, I have to say, ‘I intuit myself as such’—and indeed, intel¬
lectually.
“We have already explained the general nature of intuition: I look at something, and [at
the same time] I produce something by means of the power of imagination. This, however,
is possible only in cases where absolute opposites are present. The intuition of the I is
something entirely different, which consists in my knowledge of my own acting. I have
knowledge of my own acting because I myself accomplish it, and I discover myself therein.
“Many objections have been raised against this intellectual intuition, and this is surely
because Kant expressly denies intellectual intuition. But by ‘intellectual intuition’ Kant
means something entirely different than we do. What he calls intellectual intuition is
something that cannot even be thought of: one is supposed to look at something, as in the
case of sensible intuition, and yet one is supposed to intuit it in such a way that it thereby
comes into being ‘in itself.’ God—if we could think of God—would possess intellectual in¬
tuition of the sort described by Kant. His thinking would be an act of objective creation, a
creation of the thing in itself. This is why we cannot think of what Kant describes: because

434	§ >8
empirical thinking is always an act of making a selection18 from some¬
thing determinable. Consequently, something determinable necessarily
has to be conjoined with this determinate [state] of myself, as a mind.
This is how our synthesis expands.
■	In passing, {a more precise determination of the point we have now reached}:
A complete synthesis consists of five elements, and we have only three:
{the midpoint,} A {= the absolute 1} and, on either side thereof, |3 (= an
act of pure thinking, {the act of thinking of my act of determining, of my
concept of a goal, of my act of willing}) and b (= an act of real thinking,
{my efficacious acting and the product resulting from the same}). An ad¬
ditional, extreme element must now be added to each side of this syn¬
thesis. I am presently within the domain of (3. Here we will necessarily
have to begin with something determinable, and then the last element
will be attached. We will be unable to become acquainted with what is
determinable in this case, however, until we have first become even bet¬
ter acquainted with the determinacy in question, understood as a limi¬
tation of a power.
■	We have now arrived at an important point, one that is easy to un¬
derstand but difficult to expound. Let us begin by examining more
closely our own determinacy qua mind or spirit. What is here to be de¬
termined is freedom, pure activity as such. As a consequence of the de¬
termination of freedom, there arises for us the following concept: I
myself am the free [being] in question, and the determinacy present
here is a limitation of myself. Consequently, this is a determinacy that
lies outside of me and appears to lie outside of me, {as something not
produced by me. Thus it obtains the character of “reality” or objectivity.”
It becomes a determinacy that appears to exist} without any free contri- (239)
bution on my part, because it is precisely a limitation of my freedom.
Consequently, this determinacy would be something “in itself,” some-
we cannot think of God and cannot think of the thing in itself.
“For us, intellectual intuition is the immediate consciousness of acting. Of course, Kant
cannot have anticipated that anyone would employ this term in this way [i.e., to designate
our immediate consciousness of our own acting], since his entire philosophy contains noth¬
ing on this subject. Everyone can immediately decide for himself whether this immediate
act of intuiting one’s own acting is something merely fabricated or is, instead, something
real; for no one can take a single step without becoming conscious of his own acting. One
knows this because one does it. This is intellectual intuition, and it is in this way that I
become conscious of myself as a free intellectual being. Doing and knowing are here im¬
mediately connected with each other. This intellectual intuition is the foundation of all the
rest of my consciousness.
“If I had not grasped myself as such or in a general way, then neither could I ever know
that I am and remain the same when I entertain different representations. Consequently,
my consciousness of the identity of my own I is itself something conditioned. It is condi¬
tioned by the fact that an overall consciousness of the I as such comes into being in the
manner indicated: insofar as I think, I am.” (AA IV, 1: 222—24).
16	“beharrlich.”
17	“aber das alles.”
18	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “ein Herausgr[eifen]” for K’s “ein Herausgehen.”

§ >8	435
thing given. In addition, this same determinacy is supposed to be a lim¬
itation of freedom as such; and insofar as it is such a limitation, freedom
has to remain. To say that freedom is limited {as freedom} can never
mean that freedom can extend only so far and no further; for if this
were true, then freedom would not be limited as freedom, {but would
instead possess its own limits and end, and} there would exist {nothing
more than} a specific quantum of freedom. But we explicitly asserted
that the determinacy in question is supposed to constitute a limitation of
freedom as such; freedom must also {be able to} extend even beyond this
limitation, which must not be a purely mechanical limitation of [my]
force.E Thus, the limitation in question must be such that, though free¬
dom could indeed extend itself further, it does not do so; and the reason
it does not do so lies within freedom itself. {It possesses the ground of its
limitation within itself; it is limited by itself.} We obtain this concept
through the process of assembling it in this manner. A limitation that
arises out of freedom is and must be a self-limitation, {and this is what
must provide the limitation of freedom as such}. Nevertheless, this lim¬
itation is also supposed to be something in itself, {though not anything
“objective,” a “being”; instead, it is supposed to be} a necessary act of
thinking {of a self-limitation}. Therefore, the limit in question (i.e., the
one that would come into being {through the determinacy of freedom,}
by means of the act of determining what is ideal) would be a necessary
act of thinking of a self-limitation. Such a limitation, however, is an
“ought,”19 whereas, in contrast, the determinacy of being is a “must.” If
220 one thinks [merely] of the fact that this “ought” is something given,20
then it does not appear to us to be something that we ourselves have
produced and whose ground lies within us; instead, it simply is what it is
and is present for us because we are compelled to think of it. Neverthe¬
less, this is a determinacy of freedom, a determinacy21 one does not dis¬
cover, as one does in the case of real, sensuous thinking. This is a
determinacy that one ought to produce; but that one ought to do this is
itself something one discovers. Accordingly, this is a task that necessarily
has to be thought of, {an Idea}. And it is precisely the essence of an Idea
that one {produces nothing by means of it, but} can only construct a rule
in accordance with which the Idea in question—the Idea of infinite
space, for example—is supposed to come into being, {if it could be
brought into being. This task, however, is not one that is left to our own
free choice, and it does not depend upon whether we want to impose it
E A limitation of freedom as such could be understood only as follows: Freedom would
not be thought of as unable to extend itself any further; instead, it would be thought of as
quite able to go further, though—since it is freedom—it is not required to do so (p. 239).
19	“ein Sollen.”
20	“man denke an den Charakter des gegebenseins.”
21	Reading, with H, “Bestimmtheit” for K’s “Best[immung]” (“determination”).

436	§18
upon ourselves or not.22 We must necessarily impose this task upon our¬
selves, just as surely as we discover ourselves to be rational beings at all.
Thus we have here:
(A)	Something discovered or given: a task that imposes itself upon us.
(B)	A determination of freedom as such, which is a determination
[only] insofar as one imposes it upon oneself and which we, as rational
beings, must impose upon ourselves. (This is the foundation of the en¬
tire [System of] Ethical Theory; accordingly, this same material is there
dealt with in a more extensive manner.)23}. Thus this “ought” is some¬
thing that is, as it were, given to us; it is a task that imposes itself. Sec¬
ond, it is a task only insofar as we freely impose it upon ourselves.
■ Result: I discover myself to be neither limited nor unlimited, but sim¬
ply free—which is to say, I discover myself to be infinitely self-
determinable, and, through this {predicate}, all being, {all subsistence, (240)
every sort of fixed being,} is completely excluded and nothing remains
but the task of limiting oneself in the course of one’s own development.F
{It is a fundamental principle of the Wissenschaftslehre that all being is
something produced or created and that the intelligible foundation that
underlies being is not any sort of being, but is pure activity. The Deity24
is the same sort of pure activity as the intellect, except that the Deity is
something that cannot be comprehended. The intellect, on the other
hand, is something determinate; it is a concept, and only in this way is
self-consciousness possible. But how does this absolutely nonsensible
something become a concept? This occurs insofar as I am limited—not
limited in the way a being is limited, but only in the sense that I have the
task of limiting myself in a certain way.}
This task of limiting myself is what makes it possible for me to become
a concept for myself and to grasp myself. We were here investigating de-
terminacy merely in order to be able to understand determinability.
What then is the determinability in question? {What is determinable as
this determinacy [that is present in an act of self-limitation]?} I.e., how
does one advance from the act of thinking of determinacy to that of
thinking of determinability? From what do I select myself?
The determinate I is a pure mind or spirit; therefore, what is deter¬
minable in this case is also something of a “mental” or “spiritual”
character,25 i.e., a world of rational beings outside of me. Consequently,
22	“Aber diese Aufgabe ist nicht unsrer Willkühr überlaßen, ob wir sie uns auflegen wol¬
len oder nicht.”
23	See Das System der Sittenlehre, chap. I, “Deduction of the Principle of Morality” (SW,
IV: 13-62).
F All that remains is the task of limiting oneself in the employment of one’s own freedom
(p. 240).
24	“Die Gottheit.”
25	“also auch das Bestimmbare ist Geistigkeit.”

§ i8 437
I myself, as an individual, originate in a genetic fashion. I produce26 my¬
self as an individual by selecting myself from the {mass of what is deter¬
minable, that is, from the} kingdom of rational beings.
{The “pure I” of the published Wissenschaftslehre is to be understood as
reason as such or in general, which is something quite different from
personal I-hood.} What is the origin of pure, unlimited I-hood, and
what is the origin of empirical I-hood? The latter concept is generated
by an act of selecting—just like the concept of this stove. The difference
is that the concept of myself as an individual is selected from the sphere
of all rational beings.G {From what has been said so far,} it must now27 be (241)
clear that:
{(A) No self-consciousness is possible apart from a consciousness of
individuality.
(B)} The “ought,” or the categorical imperative, is also a theoretical
principle.
What forces us to assume the existence of rational beings similar to
but outside of ourselves? {Whenever we think of something determinate
we must also think of something determinable. We are thereby driven to
the assumption that there is a world of rational beings outside of our¬
selves. “I am a person”; this means that I am limited. This limitation is
a duty, and individuality consists in being limited in consequence of duty.
We have established the principle that self-consciousness arises
through the unification of ideal and real thinking, for the I itself first
comes into being by means of this unification. These two types of think¬
ing are united in a single act of thinking; therefore, each of them must
be determined by the other. A subject, or an individual, is produced
when an act of ideal thinking is determined by an act of real thinking.}
1	(4) {Until now, we have related the act of real thinking to the ideal one.}
We will now relate the act of ideal thinking to the real one. Determinacy
or fixedness28 is the chief characteristic of what is real—both as an act of
thinking and as the subject that comes into being thereby.H When we
think of something real our thinking comes, so to speak, to a halt and is
no longer in motion, as in the case of an act of ideal thinking. What then
is thought of in such an act of real thinking? [Answer: the object of real
26	Reading, with H, “erzeuge” for K’s “erzeige” (“come to see”).
G The relationship between these two concepts (the concept of reason in general and
that of individuality) is derived entirely from the fact that the concept of the individual is
produced by an act of selecting from the mass of the manifold (pp. 240-41).
27	Reading “nun” for K’s “nur” (“only”).
28	“fixirtsein.”
H In this context, we must constantly bear in mind the character of “real thinking,”
which consists in determinate fixedness—[and this applies to both] thinking as a subjective
determinacy and the act of thinking of an object, by means of which a real thing arises
(p. 241).

438	§ 18
thinking is,] {according to what was said above,} the productive imagi¬
nation; moreover, since this is where determinacy enters the picture,
[the object of real thinking is] the imagination in the very act of pro¬
ducing something. {Consequently, the imagination is present not as a
productive process, but rather as a product,29 which the philosopher ob¬
serves from a higher standpoint.} What is thought of in an act of real
thinking is thus a product of the imagination, but what is this? The
imagination synthesizes [i.e., synthetically unifies] an infinitely divisible
manifold; but this manifold is here something stable,30 since it is an ob¬
ject of real activity. For this reason, what we observe is not this manifold
itself, but rather the single, unified thing31 {that the imagination has
synthesized from the infinite manifold}. This {single, unified thing} we
observe is {not infinitely divided; instead, it is merely} something that is
infinitely divisible: divisible stuff, matter in space. It is precisely by
means of this act of unifying the manifold and directing our attention
entirely to the unification itself that this manifold becomes transformed
into matter. {This is the act of real thinking} to which ideal thinking now
becomes related. {The act of real thinking is viewed through the me¬
dium of the act of ideal thinking,} and this has an effect upon real think¬
ing, which preserves within itself the imprint of ideal thinking. {These
two acts of thinking are inseparably united with each other;} that is to (242)
say, in the very state in which I think in a determinate manner, I also
think in a free and spiritual manner,32 and consequently, this freedom
must also exercise some influence upon my determinate thinking and
must leave some trace of itself there. What then is this {trace? What is
this} product of ideal thinking which is present within what is determi¬
nate? This product is nothing other than ideal thinking itself; thus what
is {real and} determinate must nevertheless contain within itself an act of
self-determining, selfhood, and freedom.
■ What is real is inert, dead matter,33 but this is thought of by a freely
active being and is a particular determination of the same; consequently,
it must surely bear within itself some imprint of this free being, and only
thereby can what is real become an object for a free being. {This imprint
can be nothing but freedom or selfhood. This, however, makes no sense,
for matter possesses neither activity nor freedom. Its very essence con¬
sists in the determinacy of a mere being. Its} absoluteness cannot be the
absoluteness of acting; it can only be the absoluteness of a being, of a
being that is what it is by virtue of its very nature, i.e., through its own
determinacy. {Insofar as selfhood and freedom are related to this stuff,}
matter becomes something {subsisting} in itself and through itself, a self¬
29	“so komt nicht die Einbildungskraft als producirend sondern als Product vor.”
30	“etwas stehendes.”
31	“die eine.”
32	“in demselben Zustande nehmlich da ich bestimmt denke denke ich zugleich geistig
und frei.”
33	“ist liegende todte Materie.”

§ i8 439
sufficient, {objective} thing. Whereas matter was previously something I
merely entertained the thought of,34 it [now] becomes for me something
given, an object that is present without any help whatsoever from me.
{The act of thinking of such an object is a determinacy of myself; but,}
since I am nothing but what is free, all limitation lies outside of me, {and
it [what limits me] therefore appears to me to be something produced by
and through itself}. What limits [me] is now supposed to be something
222 that, by itself, is what it is. Here, as in the case of the necessary task
{discussed above}, something is present without any assistance from us. I
{as an individual} select myself from a mass of what is determinable; I
cannot go beyond the boundary of what is limited. {As a determinate
individual, I enter the sphere of what is determinable, which thus ap¬
pears to me to be something that limits me, something that is external to
me. Now we can apply here something that was said above:} there is
{within consciousness} something that is highest and something that is
lowest. {I myself, as an individual determined by my duty, am what is
highest; and} what is determinable for spiritual or mental activity, {[i.e.,]
what is determinable as an individual,} is the realm of reason.1 As for
what is lowest: I {also} view myself as something real, something that has
been made sensible; and the bottom-most sensibilization is my own
product {in the sensible world}, and, in addition to this, there is also
something determinable outside of me, namely, matter. But from where
does this matter come? Does it perhaps come from me myself? Does it
simply not occur to me that I myself have also produced matter? No, {at
the point where we now find ourselves, matter is not my product, for
here I have simply conferred self-sufficiency upon something that pre¬
viously merely hovered before me}. Insofar as I, {as a self-sufficient
being,} think of matter, I must necessarily transfer [my own] self-
sufficiency to it; it becomes a being in and for itself, one that subsists on
its own. {Both the product of the ideal activity and the product of the
real activity exist without any help from us.} The difference between
them is as follows: {The product of the ideal activity is a concept (the
ethical law), whereas the product of the real activity is a material thing.}
By means of the act we have now described, the thing becomes a noume-
non, i.e., something produced by an act of free thinking. This very act of
absolute thinking is an act of sheer thinking,35 one that extends
throughout our entire consciousness. It is present in {every act of imag¬
ining and in} all empirical experience and confers internal solidity upon (243)
everything produced by the imagination.^
34	“da es vorher bloß ein mir vorschwebendes war.” More literally: “Whereas it previ¬
ously was simply something that hovered before me.”
1 [. . . ] is the realm of rational beings (p. 242).
35	“eben das absolute Denken ist ein sich Denken.”
J [.. . ] and provides everything produced by the imagination with an inner “stuff’ or
matter (p. 243).

44°	§ 18
■	Kant says that we supply appearance with an underlying substrate
and that this is a noumenon.36 {This is quite correct; because Kant did
not describe this synthesis of ideal and real [thinking],} however, this as¬
sertion has occasioned much misunderstanding. The product of the
imagination and the object of real thinking,37 the appearance and what
appears, are one and the same thing. These are one and the same within
actual consciousness and are distinguished from each other only within
philosophy. A noumenon lies at the foundation of appearance. More
precisely, {it would be better to say that} the entire world is both an ap¬
pearance and a noumenon. The world is a product of my mind as a
whole, which includes both pure thinking and contemplating.38 In ac¬
tual consciousness, these are treated as a single whole. The noumenon
and the appearance are one and the same thing, merely viewed from
two different sides in consequence of the necessary duality of the mind.K
{I contemplate my own pure thinking as an appearance,39 and this
furnishes me with the world.} The Not-I becomes a substance through
this act of pure thinking, but not in the same way that the I became a
substance above. In the case of the I, all that was introduced was a lim¬
itation; the material was already present, and this manifold that was al¬
ready present was then limited by an act of real thinking. {I observed my
own act of self-determining through the medium of the infinite mani¬
fold, and in this way the manifold became a unified and limited whole.
Hence what is real came first, and the limitation was thought of
subsequently.} Here, {where the Not-I becomes a substance,} in contrast,
what is already present is the limitation, and what is introduced in this
case is simply what {is supposed to} subsist on its own. {A manifold is al¬
ready present, and I perceive this manifold only through the medium of
a concept of a goal. The manifold here becomes something determinate
for me, and I thereby catch sight of an object. This object is, in a certain
respect, something that exists by itself, and this “being for itself” is pro¬
duced by the indicated act of thinking.}
■	In the deduction [of the productive imagination in the previous § ]
consciousness begins with my consciousness of something infinite, and I
become a finite being for myself only because I am unable to grasp this
223 infinitude and only insofar as the finitude of empirical thinking is con¬
nected with this infinite intuition. Conversely, consciousness of the world
begins not with infinitude, but rather with finitude. I become conscious
36	See KRV, Ai82/B224ff. and A251-52.
37	Reading, with H, “das Obj. des realen denkens” for K’s “das Prodfuct] des reinen Den-
kens” (“the product of pure thinking”).
38	“dieser ist reines Denken und Hinschauen.”
K The world is a product of my mind as a whole, which consists in pure thinking. Pure
thinking and the world are one and the same, simply viewed through the duality of a finite
nature (p. 243).
39	“Mein reines Denken hingeschaut ist Erscheinung.”

§ i8 441
of myself as a whole; however, I do not become conscious of the world as
a whole, but only of individual objects. What I grasp [in this case] is my
own limitation; only through the IdeaL does {this world becomes a
whole,} which possesses absoluteness within itself. In ordinary con¬
sciousness one indeed discovers oneself as a whole, but one does not dis¬
cover the world as a whole. The concept of the universe is assembled
only gradually, {and the “absolute” character of the same is introduced
into it}. The I comes into being as a substance when an act of ideal think¬
ing is limited; therefore, the essence of the I consists purely in activity. In
contrast, the Not-I comes into being {as a sensible determinacy, as a
thing,} when an act of real thinking is {idealized and} assimilated by the
mind,40 and thus the Not-I is a being whose essence consists purely in
passivity.M
(5)	All this will become clearer if we think of each of these acts as limited,
[and then] unite the ideal act [of thinking] of what is determinate with
the determinate act [of thinking] of what is ideal. {But each of these acts
of thinking is a synthesis;} accordingly, {we will be} uniting syntheses
{with syntheses. (At present, we will be synthesizing the previously de¬
scribed X and K)} Our plan is simple: It is quite obvious that these acts
of thinking constitute but a single act of thinking, one that occurs in a
single moment, and hence they must certainly be united. We have al¬
ready seen what arises from this unity [of ideal and real thinking]: {this
is precisely what constitutes I-hood}. The {act of thinking} just indicated
is nothing but [a synthesis of) a particular, determinate act of ideal
thinking and a particular, determinate act of real thinking. These two
acts are {therefore} also inseparable. The I comes into being through the
determinacy of ideal thinking. {The Not-I comes into being when the
real or determinate [act of thinking] is idealized and determined.} I ob¬
serve the I by means of the thing and the thing by means of the I. The
former occurs insofar as I am able, in intuiting the object, to make free¬
dom, {which characterizes the I,} into something real.41 The latter oc¬
curs only insofar as I make my concept of a goal into something real.N
{I cannot act without positing something as the object of my acting;
nor can I posit such an object unless I act. This is a relationship of re¬
ciprocal interaction, as is the relationship between the I and the Not-I.
L [. . . ] only through me [ . . . ] (p. 244).
40	“vergeistert wird”: “is made spiritual.” Cp. “versinnlicht”: “sensibilized.”
M It is in consequence of this that the world consists of being, of passivity (p. 244).
41	“in wie fern ich die Freiheit in der Anschauung des Objects realisiren kann.”
N Therefore, the former [the I] arises when I view what is ideal through the medium of
the thing and insofar as I can, in the intuition of an object, make the freedom that char¬
acterizes the I into something real. The latter [the Not-I] arises when I view the thing
through the medium of what is ideal, insofar as I make a concept of a goal into something
real (p. 244).
(244)

442	§ i8
There is no I apart from a Not-I and no Not-I apart from an I.} I do not
exist without a world, and my world does not exist without me. Our
present task is further to characterize in a certain {dual} manner both
the I and the world in terms of their reciprocal relation to—and insep¬
arability from—each other.
224 The42 Not-I {is further determined} through {its reciprocal interac¬
tion with} the I. As we saw above,43 44 the I is extended through time, be¬
cause its acting possesses temporal duration. {And since the I never
discovers itself except as acting, it must always think of some time in con¬
junction with itself.} The I exists at every time that one can think of.
Time and the efficacious action of freedom exist only through each
other. {We have now said that the I cannot be thought of apart from the (245)
Not-I; consequently,} just as surely as the I itself is extended over time,
the Not-I, considered as something subsisting for itself, is thought of
along with the I. Thus the Not-I, considered as a thing, as a noumenon,
also occurs within time along with the I; and it [too] appears to be some¬
thing that exists at every time, for the I is always accompanied by the
Not-I. The determinations the Not-I obtains from the I’s freedom, i.e.,
the accidents of the Not-I, are transformed into temporal relations by
the freedom of the I, which is related to them. (We are not yet talking
about the organization of nature.)0, 44
, {We said above that time cannot be explained on the basis of the con¬
cept of causality, because} cause and effect are {absolutely} simultaneous.
No time originates through the concept of causality; therefore, no time
originates within nature.p Time originates solely within the I, in the con¬
cept of substantiality that is applied to the I when the I employs its
power of imagination to run through the various possibilities of action.
Insofar as the object is simply an object for the acting I, the object is
extended over time along with the I itself.Q At the same time, this fur¬
nishes the determinability of the object for the efficacy of the I, and this
fills the gap to which we have already called attention {at the beginning
of this §}. That is, we could not infer [the existence of] anything unless
it were a product of the I’s efficacy. Within experience,11 however, some¬
thing else is present, a second sort of thing: that upon which we act
when we engage in productive activity. {We have here indicated what
sort of thing this is;} it is the Not-I, considered as a noumenon, along
42	In K, but not in H, this paragraph is labeled “(A),” a heading that is here omitted,
since this section includes no paragraphs “(B),” etc.
43	See above, § 12, sect. 3.
0 (Here we are not discussing the self-development of nature) (p. 245).
44	This topic is discussed in § 19.
p Therefore, no time can originate by means of the concept of causality, and nature does
not originate within any time (p. 245).
QThe thing is extended over time only because the I posits itself within time (p. 245).
R Within ordinary consciousness [. . . ] (p. 245).

§ i8 443
with the appearance that is inseparable from this noumenon. This Not-I
is present at all times; it is something that is simply given {to us} and is
present without any assistance from us. Our efficacy is directed at this
Not-I, and this alters the appearance; yet this occurs in such a way that
what is permanent therein, which is the objectification of our own self-
sufficiency, always remains45, s {unchanged}, because our own self-
sufficiency is {constantly} objectified {in the manner indicated}.
■	This {(that is, how this occurs)} is something that cannot be grasped
conceptually.45 46 When I act efficaciously, I certainly alter the entire thing
[upon which I act], for the thing in question is always a progression from
opposed states to opposed states. And yet this same thing is supposed to
remain {the same} forever. Nothing endures but the act of thinking of
the thing, {along with what arises from my act of thinking of it, namely,}
the noumenon. The identity of consciousness depends upon this.
■	The indivisible union of the noumenon and the phenomenon can
best be explained with reference to the thing, considered as something
determinable, something that is supposed to be given to us before we
can have any effect upon it. This determinable thing is not formless; in¬
stead, it always appears to us to possess some shape or form.47 The self-
supported subsistence,48 by means of which it first becomes a thing, is
present only as a result of thinking. The form, on the other hand, is pro¬
duced by the imagination.1^ This form, however, is nothing but the mud¬
dled presentation of all the various possibilities for acting which are
expressed in the thing, that is, a muddled presentation of all that I could
make from it.u [If] I now begin to act upon this thing and alter its form
completely, what is it that endures throughout the time I am acting
upon this thing, {from the time when I begin to act upon it to the point
when my acting is finished}? All that endures is my own thinking, along
with the muddled presentation of all the things I could do—though I
45	“so daß das Dauernde deßelben immer bleibe, an dem unsre eigene Selbständigkeit
objectivisirt wird.”
8 This [i.e., the Not-I qua noumenon and appearance] is given to us at all times and is
present without any assistance from us. Our efficacy is directed at this Not-I, and in such
a way that what is posited remains unchanged, because our own self-sufficiency is always
objectified in the manner indicated (p. 245).
46	“Unbegreiflich ists.”
47	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “immer als gestaltetes” for K’s “nur als gestaltlos.”
48	“das Bestehen durch sich selbst.”
T The determinable something that is supposed to be given and upon which I have not
yet exercised any effect is not something formal, something lacking content.49 Instead, it
appears to have some form, to subsist on its own, and it is also by virtue of this that it ac¬
tually becomes a thing. Insofar as the thing obtains self-sufficiency by means of my think¬
ing, it is a noumenon; insofar as it obtains its form from the imagination and not from
thinking, however, it is a phenomenon (p. 245).
49	“ist nichts formales, nicht ohne Stoß.” Reading “Stoff’ for H’s “Stoß” (“impact”).
u It is the union of the muddled possibilities of action to which I can determine myself
(P- 245)-

444	§ 18
never actually do more than one of these things.v (Example: a tree from
which one can cut one piece after another, etc. This example applies
only to the efficacy that is present in thoughts.) This is why Fichte has
said elsewhere, {in the Journal,50} that the substance is the same as {all} (246)
the accidents, considered in [their] union with one another. {This con¬
stitutes the material of substance;} its form is the unifying act of
thinking,51 and this is the ideal act of thinking of the act of determining.
In relation to our own possible efficacy, every thing is nothing but a re¬
establishment of the quantum of this efficacy.52 {It is a thing [only] in¬
sofar as I, a subject who possesses self-sufficiency, posit it and transfer
thereto [my own] possibilities of action.}
■ Our task is completed. We had to establish the act of ideal thinking
and the act of real thinking as themselves forming a complete synthesis,
and this has been done. {The parts of the synthesis, which we previously
labeled ß, y, b, and g, are united and determined through one another.}
We have indicated what is determinable in each [series, that is, y = what
is determinable in the ideal series, and g = what is determinable in the
real series], and each of these elements is determined by another, ß
(= my own determinacy) is united with y (= the realm of rational be¬
ings as such). Moreover, b (= the determinacy of my efficacious acting,
considered as a sensuous act) is united with g53 (= the object at which
{the determinacy of} this efficacious acting is directed). All these ele¬
ments are now united with one another, inasmuch as, since54 I am par¬
tially an individual and partially a [pure] mind, I am unable to observe
myself without also observing a thing—which, when it is adjacent to me,
is my own product and, when it is distant from me, is an object (matter).
{An object that subsists on its own arises because I am unable to think of
my own identity as an active intellect without [also thinking of] a thing,
which, in the process of sensibilization, I make into a product of my own
v [. . . ] along with the muddled presentation of all the things I can do, and, in partic¬
ular, of the one thing I actually do (p. 246).
50	This appears to be a reference to the following passage in the essay “On the Capacity
for Language and the Origin of the Same” (“Von der Sprachfähigkeit und dem Ursprung
der Sprache”), which Fichte published in 1795 in the Philosophisches Journal einer Gesellschaft
Teutscher Gelehrten: “I explain the concept of substance transcendentally, not through its
permanence, but rather through the synthetic unification of all its accidents” (SVF, VIII: 320).
51	Reading, with H, “das vereinigende Denken” for K’s “das vereinigte, Denken” (“what
is unified, the act of thinking”).
52	Reading, with H, “Jedes Ding ist, bezogen auf die mögliche Wirksamkeit nichts anders
als Wiederherstellung des Quantums von Wirksamkeit” for K’s “Jedes Ding ist bezogen
auf unsre mögliche Wirksamkeit und auf nichts anderes als die Wiederherstellung des
Quantum dieser Wirksamkeit” (“every thing is related to our possible efficacy and to
nothing else than the reestablishment of the quantum of the same”). The emended ver¬
sion, however, retains K’s reference to “our own possible efficacy.”
53	Following the notation introduced in § 17, as well as the text of H, “g” has here been
substituted for K’s “c.”
54	Reading, with Radrizzani, “[dadurch] daß” for K’s “daß.”

§ is 445
physical efficacy.} Conversely, I cannot observe a thing without also ob¬
serving myself.
§ 18
Since the I, when engaged in the act of intuiting its own act of pure
thinking, is at the same time determinate, this same pure act of thinking
(that is to say, the I as a product of this act of thinking, the I as a free
226 being) necessarily becomes something determinate for the I. But a free
being, as such, can be determined only by the task of freely determining
itself. When the I thinks of this, it proceeds from a general sphere of
freedom as such (as what is determinable) to itself (as what is determi¬
nate within this sphere) and thereby posits itself as an individual, in op¬
position to a {realm of} reason and freedom outside of itself.
In this determinate act of thinking, the I is at the same time free, and
it thinks of what is determinate only insofar as it does so with freedom;
consequently, it also confers freedom upon what is determinate. But
freedom within mere determinacy (as in nature) is independent being.55
In this manner, a being that is independent of the I is attributed to the
Not-I, which first becomes a thing thereby. Insofar as the Not-I possesses
this type of being, it is what endures and is determinable throughout all
the different determinations it receives through the freedom of the I.
The act of thinking of the I as a free but limited being and that of
thinking of the Not-I as a self-subsisting thing56 mutually condition each
other. The I intuits its own freedom only in the objects of its acting, and
it intuits these objects only insofar as it freely acts upon them.
55	“ist Seyn durch sich selbst.” More literally: “being [generated] through itself.”
56	“als für sich bestehenden Dinges.”

On either extreme of the synthesis that comprises our deduction (as
well as comprising consciousness in its entirety) there lies something that
is ultimately and supremely determinable. We have connected one such
element to each side of our primary synthesis, which is therefore ex¬
hausted. At one extreme there lies the world of rational beings, {from (247)
which I select myself as an individual}; at the other, the world of sensible
objects,A {within which I express myself as an individual. Both are in¬
stances of determinability. The former is determinable as I-hood; the
latter is determinable as an object.} Moreover, since this primary synthe¬
sis is supposed to be a single, unified {whole}, we can foresee that each
of these extreme, determinable elements will be determined by the
other.
In the middle we find A, on one side of which we find (3 and y, and on
the other, b and g. This whole synthesis looks like a framework or a se¬
ries; but consciousness resembles a circle;® thus {what is determinable
within the ideal series,} y, and {what is determinable within the real
series,} g, must mesh with and be determined by each other, for only in
this way can we close our circle and {completely} finish our task. Each of
these determinable elements must mesh with the other; more precisely,
each must be determined by the other, {and this will be the subject of our
present inquiry}. We would go astray, however, if we were to proceed di-
A Previously, we had only three of the elements involved in our fivefold synthesis; there¬
fore, if this synthesis was to comprise all consciousness, we had to attach on either side of
the synthesis something that is ultimately and supremely determinable. We have discov¬
ered these determinable elements, and now our synthesis is complete. What is determin¬
able as the ideal series contained within this primary synthesis is the realm of rational
beings, from which I select myself as an individual. What is determinable within the real
series is the sensible world, within which I express myself as an individual (p. 247).
B Since the primary synthesis is supposed to be a single whole, each of the determinable
elements on either end must also be determined by the other. Otherwise our synthesis, and
along with it, our consciousness as a whole, would resemble a series or a framework. But
this is not what it is; consciousness is not a series; it is a circle (p. 247).

§ ig 447
rectly to a consideration of this [mutual] determination; instead, we
must commence our investigation at a {somewhat} deeper level. This is
why we1 return within the primary synthesis to a consideration of the I
presented in the previous §, {which is the central point} to which all the
various elements of this investigation are to be connected.
(1) The I itself, as an individual, discovers itself to be determined by a
task that it absolutely has to think of, namely, the task of determining
itself. {And this is the only way it can discover itself, since the I is free,
and since for freedom there are no limits; there is merely the task of lim¬
iting itself.} As we noted above, this is what Kant called the “categorical
imperative.”2 Freedom is not limited in the same way that being is lim¬
ited. Freedom must include its own limitation; it must limit itself. Even
this determinacy of the I can be looked at from two different sides.
(A)	Actively, subjectively, and idealiter, it can be looked at as a necessary
act of determining. {Only} then is this ought an “ought,” that is, a con¬
cept that necessarily {has to be thought of}.
(B)	Objectively {and realiter), it can be looked at as something determi¬
nate, in which case the determinacy becomes enduring, a state. It be¬
comes the character (the fundamental character)3 and essence of this I.
This sort of duality prevails everywhere, even here, within the highest
[element of our synthesis]. The act of determining and what is deter¬
mined, acting and an action: these are simply two aspects of one and the
same thing. Here we have {no action, but} only the task of performing
some action; one can think of the necessity {of this task}, however, only (248)
as a being, as a determinacy. This is contained in the twofold aspect [of
the same].
This {twofold} aspect {of the task of limiting oneself} is present from
the start and is a necessary consequence of the original duality of the I.
We are familiar with the kind of determinacy that is here involved: it is
{the determinacy in relation to which what is determinable is the realm
of rational beings; it is individuality,} the determinacy of the individual,
the act of positing myself as one individual among many. This act of pos¬
iting myself as an individual is connected with an act of positing other
individuals. We are no longer concerned here, {however,} with a mere act
of thinking {of this act of positing}; instead, we are now dealing with the
228 perceptibility4 {of the same}.
■ As we explained above, one must carefully distinguish between in¬
tuiting and pure thinking. {We have done this, and in doing so we found
that the act by virtue of which I am present for myself is nothing but an
1	Reading, with H, “wir” for K’s “Fichte.”
2	See the second remark to § 13, sect. 7.
3	“Grundcharakter.” These words in parentheses appear as a marginal note in K.
4	“Wahrnehmbarkeit.”

448	§ i9
act of thinking, through which my own efficacious force is thought of
within the manifold. When I think of myself as acting efficaciously, I
perceive nothing more than that an object in the sensible world is in a
certain state, and then (in this context [the context of my efficacious act¬
ing]) another state ensues. In such a case, however, I do not say, “There
is, within the world, a succession of opposed determinations,” but
rather, “I am the cause of this succession; the reason for this alteration
of states lies within me.” Here I do not first think of the state [of the
object] and then of myself; instead, I think something—namely, my¬
self—into what is posited in opposition.}
■ To be sure, I am nothing but a product of my own pure thinking,
and it has now been asserted that I select myself from a {mass of} reason
{and freedom} outside of me; thus it would appear as if this freedom
outside of me were merely something thought of by me. This, however,
is not the case. {Here we are not concerned with an act of thinking of the
latter;} instead, we are talking about a perception of freedom and ratio¬
nality outside of me, and this has to be deduced. It is indeed true that a
rational being5 outside of us is only a noumenon, {something thought of
by us. Yet this is something I must only infer from the phenomena.}
Even though I consider everyone to be rational and free, no one de¬
mands that I hear or see his rationality; no one demands that I should
perceive his freedom and rationality through any of my external senses.
On the other hand, one certainly does demand that I infer this from cer¬
tain phenomena. [In order for this to be possible,] however, the sensible
world must include certain unique appearances to which we are re¬
quired to transfer the thought of rationality6—and to which alone it is
possible for us to transfer this thought. Such appearances would have to
be connected with the act of pure thinking discussed above. Our inten¬
tion here is to deduce these appearances [of reason and freedom].c
(2) The task, therefore, is to describe the act of positing this determi-
nacy, or the act of thinking which is involved in positing oneself as an
individual—which is perception and which refers to a perception out¬
side of us. To be sure, it is only as a cause that we insert ourselves within
the sensible world through an act of thinking, and, in this respect, other
free beings are also {only thought of, only} noumena. To be sure, we
think of ourselves in this way only to the extent that we portray our own
determinacy7 as something subjective and ideal; it is necessary, however,
that this act of determining should also possess an aspect of objective
5	“die Vernunft.”
6	Reading, with H, “Vernünftigkeit” for K’s “Vernunft” (“reason”).
c Therefore, there must first be a perception that is connected with the act of pure
thinking, and this has to be deduced (p. 248).
7	Reading, with H, “Bestimmtheit” for K’s “Bestimmen” (“act of determining”).

§i9	449
determinacy,8 and this is what constitutes perception. From this it fol¬
lows that I am an individual within a realm of rationality; {consequently,
the awareness9 of myself as something determinate is connected with an
awareness of something determinable,} and my own act of thinking is
connected with this realm of rationality. Therefore, an awareness of ob¬
jects is also connected with an awareness of other free beings.10 {We have
to describe the act of positing this determinacy and the act of thinking
that is involved in such positing.} In our presentation of this we will not
follow the customary synthetic method, for the synthesis is already con¬
tained therein. {Here too, as has often happened in other places, we will
forego a systematic presentation in the interest of clarity.}
A. {According to what was said above,} I do not appear to myself as, so
to speak, an “I as such” or “in general,” in opposition to {the whole of}
nature; instead, I appear to myself as a {particular I, as a particular} in¬
dividual, in opposition to a rational {and free} world outside of myself.
This {—that is, as a particular I—} is the only way11 I am able to discover
myself; i.e., I discover my own being—not the being of a thing, but only
the determinacy of the possibilities of acting morally. {This determinacy
229 appears} to be something that is present independently of {and prior to}
my act of thinking, and not something produced thereby. As always,
such an act of thinking appears to be no more than an act of copying.
Unlike the sort of thinking that is involved in thinking of a concept of a
goal, this act of thinking does not appear to be determined by itself or to
provide a model for some product within the sensible world.
I	simply am what I am {and have not made myself who I am. I am an
individual} without any effort on my part. This is how it appears to me
and how it must appear to me. This is the determinacy we are now dis¬
cussing. {It can only be thought of; it is not an object of an intuition. We
claimed, however, that this determinacy is not supposed to be produced
by thinking; instead,} this is a determinacy that is supposed to exist in
itself, as it is. As such, it is supposed to be sheer necessity of thought;
{[but] this determinacy is not supposed to be a mere product of thinking
as such}.12
Remark: As in every act of real thinking, I myself am limited and con¬
strained when I think of myself in this way, but only so long as I confine
8	“daß dieses auch objective Ansicht der Bestimmtheit habe.”
9	“Ansicht.”
10	“eine Ansicht der Objecte (hängt) mit der Ansicht der anderen freien Wesen (zusam¬
men).” I.e., we cannot “look at” or consider others as free and rational subjects without at
the same time considering them to be “objects”; they possess an objective as well as a sub¬
jective “aspect.”
II	Reading, with H, “nur” for K’s “nun” (“now”).
12	K: “es soll bloße Denknothwendigkeit sein, als eine solche.” H: “Sie soll nicht eine
bloßes Denkwerk als solches seyn.” A simpler way of reconciling these two passages (and
the one adopted by Radrizzani) would be to emend the text of K to read as follows: “it is
{not} supposed to be a mere necessity of thought as such.”
(249)

45°	§ *9
myself to my own self and to my own nature. So long as this remains
true, I do not proceed beyond the boundary in question. {(The original
will is [in this case] the sole object of reflection.)} The limitation in ques¬
tion, however, is a limitation of freedom; therefore, by employing the
very freedom that is here misemployed, I can go beyond this boundary.
{(For further discussion of this point, see the [System of ] Ethical
Theory.)13} We know that there are two different types of limitation: {1}
there is the limitation that is present when, e.g., someone chains me
hand and foot, {and one is limited in the use of the parts of one’s body};
and {2} there is the sort of limitation that is present when, {e.g.,} some¬
one addresses me {and I feel obliged not to use my own organ of speech}.
The former is a limitation of my physical power; the latter is a limitation
of my moral power. {This is expressed in the [System of\ Ethical Theory as (250)
follows:14 a physical limitation is a limitation of my power to do some¬
thing else; a moral limitation is a limitation of my power to be permitted
to do something else. Here we are talking about moral limitation.} It is
inhumane to interrupt someone with whom one wants to have a con¬
versation, but it is not physically impossible to do so. It is the latter sort
of determinacy, viz., a moral determinacy, which concerns us here.
B. To be sure, an I can discover itself only insofar as it discovers itself
to be an I as such, possessing the character of the same, which is simply
freedom. In other words, an I can discover itself only insofar as it dis¬
covers that it ought to act and is able to do so. Let us apply here the
distinction introduced above: To say “I am limited” does not mean that
I am of such and such a breadth and such and such a height; on the
contrary, it means that I am limited in my ability and obligation to act,
{not in my being. To say that I discover myself to be limited can mean
only that I discover myself to be an I, with the character of the same.} We
must provide an explication of each of the distinctive features15 here as¬
cribed to the character of the I: {that I discover myself to be [1] able to
act and [2] obliged to act}.
■ To begin with, I discover that I am able to act. Considered purely as
an acting subject, I have produced myself through the will; but I am not
given to myself as an acting subject. I can discover myself, however, as a
subject that ought to act.D What is the character of the act of thinking of
acting? What kind of thinking is this? Acting is {already} a process of
flowing forth; therefore, this act of thinking of acting is {already} an act
of thinking which has been made sensible. The mere act of constructing
13	See especially §§ 7 and 8 of Das System der Sittenlehre (SW, IV: 93-122).
14	See SW, IV: 230.
15	“Merkmale.”
D I discover that I am able to act; but that I really do act is not something I discover, for
I am not given to myself in this way. Insofar as I really do act, I do not discover myself; I
produce myself. One should take careful note of this: My acting first follows from a de¬
terminate concept of a goal. I can discover myself only as obliged to act (p. 250).

§i9	451
a concept of a goal, however, does not appear to me to be an instance of
acting at all; instead, it appears to be a mere act of thinking. {And the
product of my efficacy does not appear to be anything that pertains to
230 me; instead, it appears} to be something outside of me, a thing. How are
these [i.e., my concept of a goal and my efficacious act of actually real¬
izing the same] connected with each other? They are connected through
the intuition of my own acting; furthermore, according to what was said
above, this {acting} must specifically occur {within} intuition,16 because
only in this way can any goal be accomplished.11
■ Thus I discover my own acting as something given to me, as a pos¬
sible acting. Suppose that a person had not yet done anything at all (an
absurd supposition, which will be posited only for a moment): yet if he
should ever do something, it would therefore be postulated that he
would already possess a concept of acting. For him, this concept (which
he cannot have obtained from experience) would have to be an a priori
one. So too in the present case: I discover myself to be a subject who is
obliged to act, {an act of discovery} which already includes within itself
{my own} acting. This {obligation for me to act} is quite clearly some¬
thing that has been made sensible and has been constructed by combin¬
ing the concept of a goal (which is not an instance of acting) with the act
of {actually} realizing this goal (which is not something that is discov¬
ered). Consequently, this is something that {is assembled from both and}
is, so to speak, suspended in the middle17 between the concept of a goal
and the act of realizing the same. What then do I intuit [when I intuit
this obligation to act]? What I intuit in this case is something that has
been made sensible by the imagination. Acting contains no enduring
form, neither of the subject nor of the object. {Neither the I nor what it
acts upon is at any moment the same [as it was at the previous moment].
If they are to remain the same, then one must cease to act.} The act of
thinking of actingF is entirely sensible, [and thus has a determinate, en¬
during form,] and such an aspect [of our own acting] is inseparable from
synthesis {A}, by means of which consciousness comes into being.
{I discover myself to be determinate. This is what comes first.} In ad¬
dition and in relation to {this} determinate acting, I must now posit
something determinable, {from which this determinacy is selected}; and
since what is determinate in this case is something sensible, what is de¬
terminable must be sensible as well. As we have already seen, what is
16	“Durch die Anschauung meines Handelns, die ins besondere auch drum nach dem
obigen Stattfinden muß.” Without emendation in the light of H, this passage would read:
“They are connected through the intuition of my own acting, which, according to what
was said above, must specifically occur.”
E [. . . ] because only through such an intuition can any acting arise (p. 250).
17	“in der Mitte schwebend.”
F Acting [ . . . ] (p. 250).

452	§ 19
determinate18 in this case is my own individuality, my sensuous force;
therefore, what is determinable must also appear as something sensible.
{Above, what was determinate was individuality, the pure “ought.” Here (251)
this individuality appears in a sensibilized form.} What is my individu¬
ality? It is {nothing other than} the sensible embodiment of my {pure}
“ought.”19 It is a summons to free activity, considered as a fact in the
sensible world. {The pure ought was a limitation of myself through free¬
dom. Therefore, the “ought” that has been made sensible} is the limita¬
tion of my freedom to a particular sphere; i.e., it is {what could best be
called} my own “determinate determinability.”
{The [System of ] Ethical Theory states that the object of my duties is by
no means my own reason, but is reason as such or in general, external to
me [as an individual].20 This is how the ought is viewed in its pure form.
But because I view myself in a sensible form, I also view this ought in a
sensible form;} consequently, the summons to an “ought” must appear
as a perception. Such an Idea is wholly unique to the present system,
and it represents an entirely original way of explaining [one’s] efficacy
within the sensible world. This is nothing but the objective, sensibilized
perception of a determination of myself: the perception of myself as de¬
termined to act upon and in reciprocal interaction with other rational
beings. The appearance in question is thus the following: I discover
within myself that I am summoned to act freely within a determinate
sphere.0 The best illustration of this is provided by a question. A ques¬
tion contains within itself both determinacy {(to the extent that I ask
precisely this question)} and determinability {(to the extent that I also
could have asked some other question). So too in the case of the answer:
inasmuch as I provide precisely this answer, it contains determinacy; but
it also contains determinability, inasmuch as I could have given a differ-
231 ent answer.} Here we encounter “determinate determinability,” freedom
in combination with a passive state of being affected.
{The pure “ought,” or the act of thinking of the same, is made sensible
and has to be made sensible, because consciousness begins with acting,
and because acting is sensible. Consequently, everything that occurs
within the sphere of consciousness must be made sensible. Thus the act
18	Reading, with H, “das Bestimmte” for K’s “das bestimmbare” (“what is determin¬
able”). As Radrizzani points out, either reading can be defended, since individuality, as
here described, possesses both a “determinable” and a “determinate” aspect.
19	“mein versinnlichtes Sollen.”
20	“die Vernunft ausser mir überhaupt.” See SW, IV: 236.
G This is the summons to express one’s own freedom (an Idea quite unique to this sys¬
tem), and all the actual freedom and determinacy in the sensible world arises from this, as
is here evident. This summons to freedom is only the sensibilized form of the summons to
act upon and interact with other rational beings. Summoned by myself to engage in acting,
I find myself within a determinate sphere as soon I have comprehended all that is involved
in such acting21 (p. 251).
21	“wenn ich dieses handeln zusammen faße.”

§ i9 453
of selecting [ourselves from the manifold of reason as such] and being
summoned to act freely also appears to us in this way, that is, as an act of
pure thinking which has been made sensible. Thus I here encounter in
a sensiblized form, namely, as the state of being summoned to limit
oneself,22 what was previously described within the context of pure
thinking as the task of limiting oneself. Everything within experience is
nothing but a sensible aspect of what is supersensible. What is highest (252)
within our consciousness is the act of making a selection from the mass
of reason. This is a pure act. But it cannot appear within consciousness
in this pure form; instead, it can appear there only as state of being sum¬
moned to express one’s freedom by acting. The conclusion we draw
from this is as follows:}
(3)	It is obvious that the summons described above23 must be explained
within actual consciousness. This summons can be explained only by re¬
ferring to a free acting outside of me. (To what is determinate, I attach
something determinable, as well as a determining subject. As follows
from the laws of thinking, this is only a single phenomenon. So too in
the present case: I connect something else with this summons; this is
what it means to “explain” it.)H There is a connection between the the
proofs of these two assertions [(1) that the summons is something de¬
terminate, to which I connect something determinable and a determin¬
ing subject; and (2) that what is determinable and determining is a free
being outside of me]. Considered by itself, {as something that has been
made sensible,} this summons is something determinate, even though
what is given to me {thereby} is related to my own acting as something
determinable. In the case of a question, for example, this question is, in
relation to my answer, something determinable; yet, considered in itself,
this same question is also something determinate, inasmuch as it asks
just this and nothing else.1 Accordingly, the summons occupies a middle
ground and can be construed both as determinate and as determinable.
{In relation to an instance of acting, the summons is something deter¬
minable; considered by itself, however, it is also something determinate.}
Thus, it is something relative, {which can be located, on the one hand,
within what is determinable and, on the other, within what is
22	“als ein aufgefordert seyn sich zu beschränken.”
23	Reading, with H, “oben” for K’s “<ganz>” (“completely”).
H This summons must be explained within actual consciousness; within actual conscious¬
ness, however, I act in accordance with the law that states that there can be nothing de¬
terminate without something determinable. So too in the present case: In accordance with
the laws of consciousness, I connect this summons with something that allows me to ex¬
plain it by assuming a free acting (p. 252).
1 My question is, in relationship to the person I am questioning, something determin¬
able; for I could have asked many questions other than the one I asked, questions that this
other person could have answered. Insofar as I ask precisely this question, however, my
question is determinate. The same is also true of the answer (p. 252).

454	§ l9
determinate}. If we look at it as something determinate, then, {in addi¬
tion to its determinacy,} something determinable must be posited as well.
{This raises the following question:} What is determinable in this case,
and what is the determining agency {that produces what is here
determinable}? The latter is nothing but an instance of acting, since act¬
ing is all that is thought of within this state [of consciousness].
■ {Result:} Consequently, as the ground of the summons that occurs
within me, I necessarily think of a free acting that actually occurs out¬
side of me. This, which is a determining subject and is also determin¬
able, is an actual, free being outside of me. This determining subject is
necessarily free, since what is discovered in this case is supposed to be an
instance of acting, which can be explained only with reference to a free
intellect. Ordinary human understanding immediately makes just this
inference. {It says, “I am questioned; therefore, a questioner must
exist.”} Furthermore, it is entirely justified in saying this, for it remains
within the realm of appearance, since the summons is a phenomenon.
{It is not justified, however, when it wants to infer in this same manner
in other cases.} Expressed in a scholastic manner: what we have here is
a movement of transition from what is determinate to what is determin¬
able^ and the determining subject who produces the movement of tran¬
sition from what is determinable to what is determinate is posited in the
middle. Thus, starting with this summons {to free activity}, I necessarily
infer, {in accordance with the laws of thinking,} that there is a {free} in¬
tellect outside of me. The acting of this external intellect appears to
me,24 though this intellect {from which this acting proceeds} does not (253)
itself {appear to me}. This {free intellect}, therefore, is {only thought of;
232 it is} a mere noumenon. This free intellect outside of me is {therefore}
quite definitely the counterpart to myself, though I arrive at this intel¬
lect by a different route (by an ascending one)25 {than that by which I
arrive at myself}. In my own case, I begin with the concept of freedom
and then proceed to perform an individual free action. {[I.e.,] I proceed
from myself, and only by first constructing a concept of a goal do I then
descend to my own free acting.} Here, on the other hand, in the case of
a {free} being outside of me, I ascend from an action that appears to the
cause of the same, {that is, to a free being outside of me}—which I {do
not discover but} merely infer {or think of}, and of which I cannot have
any sensation. {This is the reason why I am not you and you are not /.} I
am the person who immediately witnesses his own act of constructing a
goal, who is a noumenon for himself, and only then proceeds to [the
J [ . . . ] from determinability to determinacy [. . . ] (p. 252).
24	Reading, with H, “erscheint mir” for K’s “erscheint in mir” (“appears within me”).
25	Reading, with H, “nur komme ich zu ihr auf einem andern Wege, (nehmlich durch
Aufsteigen)” for K’s “nur durch eine ganze andre Art des Aufsteigens” (“though [arrived
at] through an entirely different type of ascent”).

§ i9 455
realm of] sensible appearance. You are the person who presents himself
to me not as a noumenon, but as an appearance. I am immediately con¬
scious of my own reason, and I do not simply infer its existence; however,
I can only infer that there is another reason outside of me.K {In my own
case, I proceed from my own reason [as a cause] to the effect. In the case
of a rational being outside of me, I proceed from the effect to the cause,
i.e., to the [external] reason. In the latter case, the efficaciously acting
subject is only inferred.} The necessity of this inference lies in the move¬
ment of transition from what is determinate to what is determinable.L
Remark: The acting of a free being outside of me, whose existence I
infer in the manner just indicated, is related to the acting that is attrib¬
uted to me in the same way that a path that has been begun is related to
the continuation of the same. What is given to me {through the
summons} is a series of elements through which some goal is condi¬
tioned, and I am supposed to complete this series.M Accordingly, all act¬
ing on the part of a free being is, first of all, a movement through
infinitely many intermediate elements, which are {united and} grasped
only by the imagination, {since the movement through [these elements]
can be thought of only by virtue of the imagination} (as in the case of
movement through infinitely many points {contained in a line}). “Some¬
one summons me”: this means that I am supposed to attach something
to a given series of acting. The other person initiates [this series] and
proceeds to a certain point, and this is the point where I have to begin.
{He posits me within a manifold series, so that I can complete an acting
he has begun. He has carried this acting from point A to point B or C,
and he summons me only to carry it to its conclusion.} Here are present
infinitely many different possibilities of acting, which are combined only
by the imagination.N
■ {Furthermore:} The acting of several rational beings {in the sensible
world} constitutes one single, {large} chain, which is determined by free¬
dom. There is but one single act of reason as a whole.26 One individual
makes a start, another individual joins in, and so on, etc. In this way,
K I am the person who is immediately a noumenon for himself and then acts in a man¬
ner that becomes sensible. You are the person who does not immediately present himself
to me as a noumenon; instead, you reveal yourself to me only in an appearance, from
which I first infer the existence of a noumenon. It is only by means of an inference that I
come to think of you (p. 253).
L The necessity of thinking in this way lies in the movement of transition from deter-
minability to determinacy (p. 253).
M Through the summons, I am given a series of elements through which the goal is pos¬
ited—a series to which I am supposed to add the still-missing I. This is how the acting of
a free being outside of me is always related to the acting ascribed to me (p. 253).
N An infinite manifold of acting is contained herein. How can this be thought of? It can
be thought of only by means of the imagination, which combines things that are infinitely
diverse and opposed to one another (p. 253).
26	“die ganze Vernunft hat nur ein einziges Handeln.”

456	§ i9
infinitely many individuals work toward the overall goal of reason,
which is a product of the efficacious action of everyone. This is not a
chain of physical necessity, for we are here dealing with rational beings,
{[and] when rational beings act, they act freely. For this reason, the (254)
movement of transition} [from one link of] this chain [to another] always
233 occurs in leaps; each leap is always conditioned by the previous one, but
is not determined and actually produced thereby. {Nevertheless, even
though one link is not determined by another, the chain still hangs to¬
gether, because all the links are combined by the imagination. For fur¬
ther discussion of this} see the [System of] Ethical Theory,27 {which states
the following: In the series of natural mechanism, everything that can
follow from any element in this series does so. This, however, is not the
case in a series consisting of the acting of rational beings—nor can this
be the case, for if it were, then this would not be a series determined by
freedom.} Freedom consists in this: of all that is possible, only a portion
of the same is attached to the chain.0
(4)	Let us now return to the point from which we began, in order to ex¬
pand the synthesis and determine it in more detail. As a perception (and
not something in itself), the summons directed to me was, like every, im¬
pression {(i.e., like every act of self-affection—though one should not in¬
terpret this in a dogmatic manner)}, a limitation of my physical acting
and thus of my physical force. Just as, {according to the above,} all being
is {a negation; so here too: the summons to free activity is also a nega¬
tion, namely,} a cancellation of my acting. {My free activity is not simply
canceled, however; it is canceled only insofar as I limit myself.} Because
this [involves something that] occurs outside of me, I am unable to do
it—not that I am unable to do it at all, but rather I am unable to do it
purely on my own—though, to be sure, I could do it if I wanted to break
through the boundary [represented by this limitation to the 1]. This
summons signifies and is a limitation of my physical acting in a certain
respect. It is clear that, in order to explain this limitation, I must assume
that there is a physical force outside of me, since what is physical can
surely be affected only by something else that is physical. {Here we have
followed a path just the reverse of the one we pursued above, where we
found that in order for me to be able to posit my own efficacy as such I
also had to posit some product of the same. Here, conversely, in order to (255)
explain a product in the sensible world I have to connect it with some
sensuous force.} One should pay careful attention to this transition. Pre-
27	See SW, IV: 134-35.
0 Freedom in this case consists in this: that of all the things that could be produced by
the acting of a rational being, only one or more are selected in accordance with its power
of free choice (p. 254).

§ i9 457
viously, we were concerned only with acting, {as the unifying link be¬
tween the concept of a goal and the sensible world}; this provides us with
a physical force, which becomes determinate just as soon as my own lim¬
itation is taken into account. Just as {an acting occurs [within me] be¬
cause a summons is directed at me, and} I inferred an acting outside of
me from one within me, so now, from a sensuous force, as something
determinate, I infer the existence of a determining subject homoge¬
neous with the former (since it was present in the same act of thinking).
■ The situation now stands as follows: {I discover that I am summoned
to act freely.} This discovery that I have been summoned {in this way} is
nothing but the sensible embodiment of the task28 of limiting myself.
From this {summons} I infer the existence of a rational being {outside of
me, who determines this summons}; and, since this {summons} is an in¬
stance of sensible acting, I infer that this rational being outside of me29
possesses a sensuous force of its own. I thereby realize the existence of a
rational being as a sensuous force outside of me {in the sensible world.
This, that is, the reason that is possessed by others, is something I only
infer; I am able to do this only insofar as, within me myself, something
appears as an instance of sensible acting, to which I must connect a sen¬
suous force that acts in this sensible manner. But this sensible action it¬
self is nothing but an appearance, from which I infer something
supersensible: the reason of others.}
(5)	We have thus inferred the existence of a determining physical
{force}, which is, at the same time, something determinable and which,
consequently, did not have to act in just this particular way. Instead,
when it engaged in its act of determining it made a choice from an in¬
finitely diverse manifold. In short, this {determining subject} is a phys¬
ical force of the same sort as my own, one dependent purely upon
freedom and determined only thereby in an infinite variety of ways.
{This is how it appears to me.} Like everything else I think of, I think of
this freely determinable physical forcep as something determinate, as a
234 quantum, as an individual force. At the same time, it also appears to me
as something sensible and material, located in space. Consequently, the
efficaciously acting subject who produces this summons30 {that I dis¬
cover within myself} necessarily presents itself to me as a materially lim¬
ited body. My act of thinking of a rational being outside of myself is
28	Reading, with H, “versinnlichte Aufgabe” for K’s “sinnliche Aufgabe” (“the sensible
[or sensuous] task”).
29	Reading, with H, “des Vernunftwesens außer mir” for K’s “dieses sinnlichen Wesens”
(“this sensuous being”).
p I think of this rational being [. . . ] (p. 255).
30	’’das würkende zu der Aufforderung.”

458	§ >9
an act of sensuous thinking; {consequently,} I do not merely think of a
body of this sort, I also realize it within sensible intuition. A feeling is
connected with this, namely, the feeling of the self-limitation that is
attributed to me; and a sensible form is thereby projected by means
of intuition.^
Remark: Only philosophy has knowledge of the connection between
ideal and real thinking. In the eyes of ordinary, commonsense under¬
standing these are one and the same. The same thing that occurs wher¬
ever philosophy recognizes the presence of the duality of thinking
occurs in this case as well: No one asks about the connection between the
{determinations of his} will and the {movement of his} body, nor has any
philosopher wondered about this until now. Instead, one treats the body
and the soul as one and the same: e.g., “I have cut myself,” and “I think,
‘I have cut myself.’ ” So too in the case of a rational being outside of us:
such a being always appears under two different aspects, though we are
not aware of this. {The concept of} a certain body {outside of me} and (256)
the concept of a rational being {outside of me} are inseparably united
within me. To be sure, this concept of a rational being is obviously31
something we merely think of. Reason is present within the phenome¬
non only because I32 have inserted it there by means of thinking. Both
of these, {reason and body,} are inseparably united with each other; the
former is something I merely think of, and therefore so is the latter. This
body too is something within me; it is the same thing as reason, merely
viewed from the other side. This is clearly exhibited within transcenden¬
tal philosophy. {Here we encounter the claim of transcendental idealism
in its full audacity. I and my body are absolutely one, simply looked at in
different ways. I as “pure I,” in its supreme purity, and I as “body” are
entirely the same. The distinction that appears to us is based entirely
upon the difference between these ways of looking at [the same thing].
The I, considered as what is purest within me, is nothing but the [I] as
grasped by the purest type of thinking. I, considered as a body, am the
same [I], not as grasped by pure thinking, but rather only as grasped
within sensible intuition and projected into time and space—by means
of which the I is transformed into something material.}
Result {of what has been said up to this point}: I infer the existence of
a rational being outside of me from my own freely produced limitation,
i.e., from the task of limiting myself. When considered in a pure fashion,
this is a task; when it is made sensible, this same task is a summons to
engage in limited activity. What is determinable in this case is the com-
QThis body is therefore something within the sensible world, something I think of as
realized. But the reason why I think of this body lies in my feeling, and therefore, in my
self-limitation. Along with this feeling, a certain shape is projected into space, a body ex¬
ternal to me (p. 255).
31	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “offenbar” for K’s “ein Ideales.”
32	Reading, with H, “Ich” for K’s “er” (“he”).

§ *9	459
bined mass of determinate, individual rational beings outside of me;33
and insofar as I perceive34 this [determinable, rational being], it is a real,
physical force, {which presupposes my own physical force, as a determin¬
ing subject}. What is determinable as a physical force is an object in the
corporeal world. Both of these, {the concept of a rational being outside
of me and the concept of a body outside of me,} are inseparably united
and are one and the same thing, {merely viewed from different sides,}
etc. [The union of] limitation and freedom is the {supreme} synthetic
midpoint. Freedom outside of me is something I {only} think of; all the
rest, {a body outside of me,} is {only} intuited.
{The task of limiting oneself, when made sensible, appears as a sum¬
mons, one that comes from outside of me and summons me to limit my¬
self in a certain way. As a result of this summons, I must infer the
existence of a free being outside of me. This free being outside of me is
something I have only thought of; therefore, I must make it into some¬
thing sensible, and thus it becomes an appearance for me: namely, the
body of a rational being other than myself.}
235	(6) This rational being is a body, because it appears to exercise an effect.
Its body is freely determinable, and it presents itself to me in this way
because I have assumed that this is a free being.R {Consequently,} this is (257)
a body that is infinitely modifiable. Matter can be modified only by di¬
vision and movement, however; therefore, this is the sense in which the
infinite modifiability of the body of a free being must be understood. Its
modifiability must consist in the fact that it is up to freedom to decide
what shall be treated as a part and what shall be treated as a whole; in
the fact that to every part there pertains a movement of its own, as well
as the movement that is posited along with [that of] the entire [body]; in
the fact that this body is articulated. {This provides us with the concept of
“articulation.” I am articulated. I move my entire body: taken by itself,
my body is a whole; in relation to nature [as a whole], however, my body
is only a part. I move my arm: this too, taken by itself, is a whole; at the
same time, however, my arm is also a part of a larger whole, namely, my
body, etc. This is also true of the bodies of other rational beings outside
of me.} This is also what occurs within experience; all efficacy in the sen¬
sible world depends upon this property [the articulation of the body of
a free being].
33	Reading, with H, “das Bestimmbare zu ihr ist die zusammen gefaßte Maße der be¬
stimmten einzeln Vernunftwesen außer mir” for K’s uncertain and obscure “das bestimm¬
bare zu ihr ist bestimb[ar] <in den> VernunftW[esen] auser mir” (“what is determinable
in this case is determinable in a rational being outside of me”).
34	Reading, with H, “durch mich wahrgenommen wird” for K’s “von mir <erblickt>
wird” (“I observe”).
R The body of a rational being, which arises through a process of sensibilization, is—Just
as surely as it is the body of a free being—freely determinable (p. 256).

460	§ 19
Furthermore, a body of this sort is presupposed by freedom, since it is
just this that is freely determinable,35 and, within consciousness, what is
determinable always precedes {the determining subject and the
determination} in the series of thinking. It is precisely in this way that
this body becomes something that is discovered and given, i.e., an “ob¬
ject” in the proper sense.s Such a body is present whenever a subject
acts; {free acting presupposes a body}. Therefore, this same body is [a
part of] “nature”; more specifically, it is a product of nature—though
this last assertion requires some explanation and proof.
■ According to what was said above, nature is, in a certain respect, a
noumenon, and this is true of all nature. Nature is posited through it¬
self; {it simply exists}. It is what it is simply because this is what it is, and
only to this extent can it be called “nature” at all. {Spinoza divides nature
into natura naturans and natura naturata,36 For him, natura naturans is the
Deity and natura naturata is visible nature. According to our system, na¬
ture is simply both—naturans and naturata.) One could say, with Spinoza,
that nature is natura naturans—which it is, just as surely as it is nature,
subsisting because it subsists. Nature can be called “nature”37 only inso¬
far as it exists through itself. {From the viewpoint of ordinary
consciousness,} the articulated body is [part of] nature. Therefore, as
judged from this ordinary point of view, an articulated body is presup¬
posed by all consciousness {and all freedom}. But this body [of one’s own]
is {only} a portion of nature; for, in addition to it, the bodies of other
rational beings are present as well,38 and, as we saw above, so too are
objects, {in which I make real the freedom of my acting}. This body is
nature; i.e., it is a part of nature. Furthermore, it is a determinate part
of nature; indeed, it is a particular part of nature which is determined
35	Reading, with H, “das Bestimmbare für die Freyheit” for K’s “das bestimmbare zur
Freiheit” (“what is determinable in relation to freedom”).
s In this way the body becomes something discovered, a real object; hence the body is
already there when the subject discovers it (p. 257).
36	I.e., the “creative power of nature,” in contrast to “created nature.” See the scholia to
Proposition XXIX of Part One of Baruch de Spinoza’s Ethica, Ordine Geométrico Demonstrata
(1677), trans. Edwin Curley, in The Collected Works of Spinoza (Princeton: Princeton Uni¬
versity Press, 1985), p. 434: “Before I proceed further, I wish to explain here—or rather
to advise [the reader]—what we must understand by Natura naturans and Natura naturata.
For from the preceding I think it is already established that by Natura naturans we must
understand what is in itself and is conceived through itself, or such attributes of substance
as express an eternal and infinite essence, i.e. (by P14C1 and P17C2), God, insofar as he
is considered as a free cause.
“But by Natura naturata I understand whatever follows from the necessity of God’s na¬
ture, or from any of God’s attributes, i.e., all the modes of God’s attributes insofar as they
are considered as things which are in God, and can neither be nor be conceived without
God.”
37	“heißt sie so.” This might also be construed to read “nature can be called natura na¬
turans [...].”
38	Reading, with H, “sind noch Leiber anderer vernünftiger Wesen” for K’s “ist der
meinige ja auch da” (“my body is also present”).

§ 19	461
by itself. The proof [that the articulated body of a rational being is a
product of nature] is based upon this last point, {which is very important (258)
and upon which much depends}. (The existence of something within na¬
ture has to be demonstrated by starting with the articulation [of the
body].) The body {of a rational being outside of me} is that portion of
the corporeal world which is set in motion by the sheer will of a rational
being. This body possesses a definite spatial boundary, however, beyond
236 which the sheer will can accomplish nothing, for the rational being in
question is {limited and must have its limits, inasmuch as it is} supposed
to be a finite being. This rational being now discovers this body, {as lim¬
ited in a determinate fashion,} and this determinate limitation belongs
to this rational being, and specifically, to his body. This limitation is
present quite independently of his will {and his freedom}. His body is a
limited part of the sensible world, and its limitation must therefore also
be present to him independently of his will. Consequently, his body’s
boundary is also nature and is posited by nature. In other words, this
body is a product of nature. I.e., nature produces itself, in conformity
with mechanical laws (for freedom, which operates through the will and
by means of concepts, is not to be thought of in this context, {since na¬
ture contains no freedom of the will, no selfhood}); hence it produces
real wholes,39 such as are wholes in themselves, and this happens
through a necessary act of thinking and not simply, as it were, by means
of our freedom of thinking. ({This whole produced by nature is posited
in opposition to the kind of whole assembled by means of abstraction.}
Through the freedom of abstraction, I am able to divide everything, but
in this way I obtain only an imaginary whole—as is the case with all ab¬
stract concepts.) Real wholes are those I must necessarily assemble in a
certain, particular way. We have now arrived at the familiar concept of
“organization,”40 {which follows from [the concept of] articulation}. Our
deduction [of the concept of organization] descends from something
higher: We began with what is highest [in the] ideal [series], with the
task of limiting ourselves. We have made this concept sensible in the
phenomenon of a summons, which also lies within us. In addition to
what is determinate (the summons) and in accordance with the law of
substantiality, we have also posited a determinable subject who sum¬
mons us, and we have transformed the latter into a perception, into a
body in the sensible world, through which perception a free action is
supposed to become possible. [Furthermore,] the body in question must
be an articulated body. Organization follows from articulation and is
connected with what has gone before; for since this body is something
merely discovered, i.e., is [part of] nature, the articulation [of the same]
cannot be anything but the product of a purely natural law. We have
39	“reelle Ganze.”
40	“der Begriff der Organisation.”

462	§ ig
thus obtained a nature that forms real wholes—in this case, the real
•	41 nn
whole of an articulated body—and possesses an organized structure. ’
Overview: We began this § as follows: The extreme terms of our syn¬
thesis ({on the side of the ideal series,} the realm of rational being and,
on the other side, {in the real series, a dead, self-subsisting,} fixed [realm
of] nature) must, in turn, reciprocally determine each other. Since both
237 are present within a single consciousness, the realm of rational beings
must be viewed and determined through the medium of the realm of
nature, and vice versa. {Insofar as the realm of rational being is viewed
through the medium of nature,} the result is that a rational being (to the
extent that it is something sensible) appears to be a part of nature, a
product of the same, as well as an object.
On the other hand, has nature in turn perhaps been {further} deter¬
mined by our operation? Yes indeed, for whereas nature previously ap¬
peared to us merely as a single whole, as a Not-I, we have now discovered
that we intuit particular objects in nature. Nature now appears to us as
a system made up of individual, real wholes, and it appears to us in this
way because we had to assume the existence {outside of us} of rational,
sensuous beings like ourselves.
(7)	Much more follows from this. Something else, something quite dif¬
ferent, is also realized in nature. {We have determined nature even fur- (259)
ther by means of this operation,} as follows: All the parts out of which
we have assembled this body {of a rational being} belong together and
constitute a single whole only in their combination. This wholeness
{which arises from the combination of the parts} is purely the result of
the efficacy of nature; it is nature that has made these {articulated}
parts, {which could be posited in a relationship [to one another],} into a
single whole. What does this mean? The body of a rational being exter¬
nal to us must necessarily be infinitely divisible, as is obvious from the
very concept of matter. All these parts are parts of nature, and therefore
each is posited through itself and contains within itself the ground of its
own subsistence. Yet, {according to what was presupposed above,} they
all constitute a single whole only in their interconnection with one an¬
other, and apart from this connection they are nothing at all (as is in¬
dicated by the concept of articulation). It is because of nature itself that
these various parts exist alongside one another and become something
only through their interconnection with one another. This is not a situ- 4141	“wir erhielten eine Natur, welche reelle Ganze, hier die reelle Ganzen eines artiku-
lirten Leibes bildet, welches die Organisation ist.”
T Organization follows from articulation. I discover my body to be articulated. As some¬
thing discovered, it can be nothing other than a product of a purely natural law. Conse¬
quently, I obtain my body from nature, which forms real wholes, and nature is able to do
this by virtue of its organization; therefore, my articulated body is a product of organiza¬
tion (p. 258).

§ i9 463
ation that could have been artificially produced. Since each individual
part has to be considered as posited through itself and [yet] is supposed
to be something only by virtue of the interconnection, it follows that the
reason for this must lie within these parts themselves. Every part is con¬
stituted in such a way that it cannot subsist without the others, nor can
all of the other parts subsist without this one.u This posited being of na¬
ture, this law of nature42 is called “organization,” and a body that exhibits
this sort of connection is called an “organized” body. Consequently, na¬
ture—that is, nature as a whole (since every individual, {organized} body
is {always} connected with nature as a whole)—is [not only] an organiz¬
ing power,43 it is [also] organized. Each of the parts of nature can subsist
only insofar as they all exist alongside one another and cannot exist
238 without one another; {thus none of them can exist on its own}. The rea¬
son for this lies within the parts {of nature}, as well as within nature as
a whole. Like the body of an {individual} rational being, the whole uni¬
verse is also an organized whole. {Nature as a whole} must necessarily be
an organized whole, because individual organized wholes are possible
within nature, and these are made possible only by means of the entire
force of nature. Individual organized wholes are simply products of the
organization of the whole universe.
(8)	Thus our task would appear to be accomplished, for the two deter¬
minable elements at either end of our synthesis have been shown to be
determined through each other. The individual within the world of rea¬
son'^ becomes a part of the sensible world; consequently, he is posited
within the sensible world and becomes, in a certain respect, one there¬
with. Conversely, the sensible world receives an analogon44 of freedom;
i.e., the concept of generating or creating appears within the sensible
world—though this is {not actual freedom, since this is} a type of creat¬
ing which occurs in accordance with certain, fixed rules.
■ Nota Bene how we have obtained this result: {We did not begin with
the two extreme terms of the synthesis.} We began simply at one end
{of the synthesis}, with the ideal series, {i.e., with the mass of reason};
and then, without noticing it, we proceeded from there, {from a deter¬
mination of reason outside of us,} to the other, {real} series, to a deter¬
mination of the sensible world. In keeping with our analogy, we would
have thought that we would have had to begin with each element
u That these parts form a whole only in their union is not something that could perhaps
occur artificially; instead, this occurs through nature, since each part must be considered
as posited through itself, and since all of them can subsist only in their interconnection
with one another (p. 259).
42	“Dieses Geseztsein der Natur, dieses Gesez der Natur.” H: “Dieses Gesetz der Natur.”
43	“ist also organisirend.”
v The individual within the world of union [. . . ] (p. 259).
44	“analogue.”

464	§ >9
individually (i.e., with {g and y, and with} |3 and b, and that we would (260)
have been able to discover an intermediate element = X, in which all
these elements coincided, only after we had examined each of them in¬
dividually. It was not necessary for us to proceed in this fashion, [how¬
ever,] for the law in accordance with which we are thinking here is that
of reciprocal interaction,45 which already contains within itself a concat¬
enation of the efficaciously acting elements, so that one can set out from
either side and arrive at the other—so long, that is, as one grasps the
former in the proper way. We would not have been able to advance and
to achieve our goal, however, if we had set out from the other side, {from
the sensible world}. We were able to achieve our goal {by starting from
the point we selected} only because freedom and spontaneous activity
are what is primary and highest, and if we begin with them it is then easy
to show how they are made sensible in the sensible world.w What we
have established {here} is a reciprocal interaction.
■	{1} To begin with, the world of reason interacts with itself.
{Popularly expressed,} rational beings exercise an influence upon one
another; or, transcendentally expressed, there is within every individual
something that requires him to infer that other rational beings exist in
addition to himself.
■	{2} Similarly, the sensible world also interacts with itself, for the law
of organization we have established is nothing more than the combined
239 operation of all the natural forces in the universe.x
■	{3} Both the rational world and the sensible world interact with
themselves; in addition, they reciprocally interact with each other, and
they also appear {to us} to do so. First of all, nature and freedom mesh
with each other within articulated bodies. This occurs by means of the
freedom of the individual, and this is how freedom as a whole operates
within the whole of nature.Y Conversely, articulated bodies are first
produced by nature; therefore, as judged from the usual viewpoint,
nature produces the very possibility of reason and {consequently} in¬
trudes into the realm of rational being, {into the realm of what cannot
be perceived}.
45	Reading, with H, “weil hier nach den Gesetzen der Wechselwirkung gedacht wird” for
K’s “da das hier gedachte Gesez das der Wechselwirkung ist” (“for the law thought of here
is that of reciprocal interaction”).
w We could indeed reach our goal, however, by starting with the point we selected, be¬
cause this is what is first and highest, and because the determination of the sensible world
can be derived from my own freedom (p. 260).
x Nature interacts with itself, by virtue of the law of organization, according to which the
universe cannot subsist except insofar as all its parts are combined with one another
(p. 260).
Y These two worlds interact with each other in an articulated body. Here nature and
freedom mesh with each other; freedom as a whole exercises an influence upon the to¬
tality of nature, and conversely, nature as a whole exercises an influence upon freedom in
its entirety (p. 260).

§ 19	4^5
■ With this, our synthesis is complete, and, since {this is the funda¬
mental synthesis of all consciousness, and since} everything that occurs
within consciousness is contained within this synthesis, our task is fully
accomplished and our work is finished.
§ 19
When the limitation of the I is made sensible and is perceived, it ap¬
pears as a summons to act freely. What is perceived in this case {appears}
as a limitation of our physical force—assuming that we confine our¬
selves to ourselves. Accordingly, a physical force outside of us is posited
as what determines this limitation. The physical force in question is gov¬
erned (this is to be understood practically, that is, in the sense of positing
it as engaged in real activity)46 by the will of a free individual outside of
us, an individual who is determined and characterized by this will. (I.e.,
the individual in question is this determinate will, from which the exis¬
tence of a rational being is first inferred.) What is determinable in this
case {(what is determined by the freely determining agent and is, for us,
a determinacy)47} provides us with the concept and the perception of an
articulated body, a person, outside of us.
This (the body) is a product of nature and consists of parts, which con¬
stitute this determinate whole only in their union with one another;
therefore, nature contains within itself the law that its parts must nec¬
essarily unite to form wholes, which, in turn, constitute but one single
whole. Nature is both organized and organizing; insofar as a sensuous,
rational being outside of me is posited, nature is therefore posited. This
exhausts the sphere of what must necessarily be present within con¬
sciousness.
240 Remark: Nature is {a self-contained whole and is} explicable {through
itself} only insofar as it is both organized and organizing. Otherwise, one
will be driven further and further afield by the law of causality, {if one
assumes this law as one’s explanatory rule. E.g., when I try to deter¬
mine the space occupied by some object, I will be driven on and on—to
infinity.
Question: Does the world have any spatial limit? If I attend merely to
the fact that the world is in space, I will be unable to determine its
46	This parenthetical mark, as well as the parenthetical sentence that follows, appear at
the bottom of Krause’s page, with asterisks indicated where they should be inserted in the
text. In the summary of § 19 contained in the Hauptsätze collected at the beginning of
Krause’s MS, these same two sentences appear (within parentheses) in the text itself. Nei¬
ther appears in H.
47	“Das Bestimmbare davon (von dem freyen bestimmenden, das für uns Bestimmtheit
ist).”
(261)

466 § 19
boundaries and will not even be able to assert that it is limited, for I will
lose myself in infinity. If, however, I attend to the fact that the world is
organized, that it is an organized whole, then it does possess boundaries
of its own; for, as an organized whole, the world is, as such, complete
and self-contained. Wherever one wishes to look, every finite thing is a
product of a finite number of self-contained natural forces. In this way
there arises [the concept of] a single whole, a universe.} The Kantian
antinomies of reason thereby disappear completely {as well}, for these
{do not represent any conflict of reason, but} are merely antinomies of
free argumentation.48
In this way, the philosophers of the past based the proof of God upon
the existence of the world. They did this out of despair, for they wanted
finally to come to a stop somewhere.
One must grasp reason as a whole, and then one will find that no con¬
flict is present and that nature is quite absolutely posited by itself as ab¬
solute being, opposed to nothing but the absolutely posited /. This is the
perspective that has to be adopted by natural science.2
48	“raisonnement.” Fichte employs this term in the manner it was employed by Kant, that
is, to designate the sort of undisciplined and groundless argumentation Kant associated
with Voltaire and the French philosophes of the eighteenth century. For Kant’s account of
“the antinomy of pure reason,” see KRV, A4o6/B432ff.
z Reason is a single whole; anything grasped by reason must be grasped as a whole. The
I is a product of reason; therefore, I become grasped as a whole. This is also the case within
nature; nature is an absolute whole, just as I am. I am an absolute acting; nature is an
absolute being. Nothing further can be deduced from nature, and this is the point where
all natural philosophy commences (p. 261).

240
DEDUCTION OF THE SUBDIVISIONS
OF THE WISSENSCHAFTSLEHRE
(1) We have now set forth everything that we discover {within (262)
consciousness} as a given object when we discover ourselves, i.e., every¬
thing that is connected with the objective aspect of ourselves. This dis¬
covered object is our world. A complete explication of this world—and
{by “complete” we mean} a description of how {what is discovered} is
determined by means of all the laws of thinking—constitutes the
{specifically1} theoretical Wissenschaftslehre, or the Wissenschaftslehre of cog¬
nition (in the Kantian sense).A It always depends upon what is discov¬
ered. This Wissenschaftslehre of cognition must also be contained within
our “Foundations,”2 and it is {actually} to be found there, {though only}
with respect to its basic features.
A particular science [i.e., a particular subdivision of the Wissen¬
schaftslehre] {is distinguished from the entire science only as follows: a
1	“besonderer.” The “theoretical Wissenschaftslehre” is thus, like the theory of right, the
theory of ethics, or indeed, the presentation of the first principles or “foundations” of the
whole system, a particular part of the entire Wissenschaftslehre. As such, it constitutes one of
the subdivisions of the entire system or “science” in question and is thus one of what
Fichte, in the discussion that follows, calls the “particular sciences.”
A Wherever objective cognition is present, theory is present as well, and, considered
from a transcendental point of view, so too is the theoretical Wissenschaftslehre (p. 262).
2	“unserer Grundlage.” Though this term is singular, it is here translated as plural (and
capitalized) in order to indicate that what Fichte is referring to on this occasion is not just
any “foundation,” but rather the systematic presentation of the first principles or “foun¬
dations” of the entire Wissenschaftslehre. In this sense, the “Foundations” is the first part of
the system whose divisions Fichte now proceeds to sketch. One should recall that the full
title of the published Wissenschaftslehre of 1794/95 was Grundlage der gesammten Wissen¬
schaftslehre (“Foundations of the Entire Wissenschaftslehre”) and that the official title of the
present lecture course was fundamenta philosophiae transsendentalis (die Wissenschaftslehre)
nova methodo (“Foundations of transcendental philosophy (Wissenschaftslehre) nova methodo”).
Though it is possible (as the editors of AA IV, 2 assume) that Fichte is here employing the
term “Foundations” with specific reference to the Grundlage of 1794/95* it is more plau¬
sible to assume that this is a more general reference to the “first” or “foundational” part
of his entire system, and specifically, to its most recent version, as presented in these very
lectures on Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo.
[467]

468 Deduction of the Subdivisions of the Wissenschaftslehre
241
particular science} continues until the individual concepts [upon which
the science is based] have been completely determined, whereas the
Foundations explicates only the most fundamental concepts.5 Each fun¬
damental concept is then subjected to further analysis within a partic¬
ular science, and only then is the particular science in question
complete—{that is,} when its object has been considered in accordance
with all the laws of thinking.
{Remark: The Foundations contains only the basic concepts, not every¬
thing that occurs within consciousness; and this is also the way in which
we have proceeded. Nevertheless, it must be possible to discover every¬
thing contained within consciousness simply by analyzing the basic con¬
cepts contained in the Foundations.} Simply by means of analysis, one
must be able to proceed from the Foundations to every particular
science.
{When one attends to the discovered object, one obtains the theoret¬
ical Wissenschaftslehre, or so-called theoretical philosophy.} The object of
theoretical philosophy is nature. Nature can be considered:
either as subject to merely mechanical laws of attraction and repulsion
(example: Kant’s “Metaphysics of Nature”),3
or as subject to organic laws (e.g.: the theory that deals with the basis
of the existence of human beings, animals, plants, etc.).c
Taken together, these two inquiries exhaust the domain of theoretical
philosophy, or “theory of the world.” In short, theoretical philosophy
explains how the world is and must be, how the world is given to us.D
The result of theoretical philosophy is {a system of} pure empirical
experience,4 and, with this, theoretical philosophy comes to an end.
{Remark: One very often hears it said that something “conflicts with
experience,” and this is often said by people who have no precise knowl¬
edge of what experience means. Such knowledge is needed, for its ab¬
sence is the source of the confusion that continues to prevail concerning
this point.} In ordinary life the word “experience” is bandied about by
even the most thoughtless persons, for whom even reveries count as ex-
(263)
perience. {On the other hand, people often do not want to know about
B A particular science continues with the determination of an individual [concept] that
is included in the fundamental concept, whereas the general science, in contrast, remains
at the level of the fundamental concept and the determinacy of the same (p. 262).
3	Metaphysische Anfangsgründe der Naturwissenschaft (1786), KGS, IV: 487—585. English
translation by James W. Ellington, “Metaphysical Foundations of Natural Science,” in Im¬
manuel Kant, Philosophy of Material Nature (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1985).
c [Nature can be considered] to be subject to the laws of organicism. This way of inves¬
tigating nature includes the theory of the basis of our own existence as well as that of other
rational beings (p. 262).
D [ . . . ] must be given to us (p. 262).
4	“reine Empirie.”
E People often speak of “experience” where none is present: e.g., in cases of mistaken
inferences and dreams (p. 263).

Deduction of the Subdivisions of the Wissenschaftslehre
some experience that does indeed exist.} First of all, we have to deter¬
mine what experience can be. To determine this would be a great ser¬
vice, one that is accomplished by theoretical philosophy/ {Theoretical
philosophy concludes with pure empirical experience;} it establishes
what experience necessarily is and can be.
(2) In order to discover ourselves we must, {according to the above,}
think of the task of limiting ourselves in a certain way. This task, {this
determinate way of limiting oneself, which is contained within the task
in question,} is different for every individual, and it is precisely this dif¬
ference that determines which particular individual one actually is. This
is not a task that appears to us all at once and once and for all; instead,
it presents itself in the course of experience every time an ethical com¬
mand is issued to us.5 But since we are practical beings {and since limi¬
tation exists only in opposition to acting}, this summons to limit
ourselves also contains a summons for us to act in a determinate way.
This applies differently to every individual. Everyone bears his own con¬
science within himself, and each person’s conscience is entirely his own.
{Everyone has his own ethical law, his own duties.} Yet the manner in
which the law of reason commands everyone can certainly6 be estab¬
lished in abstracto. Such an inquiry is conducted from a higher stand¬
point, {where the individual beings coincide,} where individuality
vanishes from view and one attends only to what is universal or general.
I must act; my conscience is my conscience, and to this extent the theory
of ethics7 is an individual matter. This, however, is not the way it is dealt
with in the general theory of ethics. {If one attends only to what is uni¬
versal, there arises} the practical Wissenschaftslehre, which becomes the
particular [science of] ethics,8 {or “ethics” in the proper sense of the
term}. That is to say, what is practical is acting as such, but acting is con¬
stantly present throughout the Foundations, inasmuch as this entire
mechanism [of reason] is based upon [acting]; consequently, the specif¬
ically practical Wissenschaftslehre can only be ethics. Ethics explains how
the world ought to be constructed by rational beings, and its result is
something ideal (to the extent that what is ideal can be a result), since
this is not something that can be grasped conceptually. {[In contrast,]
the theoretical Wissenschaftslehre explains how the world is, and the result
of the same is pure empirical experience.}
F Therefore, philosophy will have accomplished a great deal and will have performed no
small service if it simply explains what experience actually is, and this is just what philos¬
ophy does (p. 263).
5	“sondern im Fortgang der Erfahrung analytisch jedesmal in wiefern ein Sittengebot an
uns ergeht.” The translation omits the word “analytisch” (“analytically”), which makes little
sense in this context and is not found in the otherwise identical sentence in H.
6	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “wohl” for K’s “nicht.”
7	“die Sittenlehre.”
8	“die insbesondre Ethik wird.”

470 Deduction of the Subdivisions of the Wissenschuftslehre
Remark: Both theoretical and practical philosophy are [included
within] the Wissenschaftslehre. Both are based upon the transcendental
point of view: Theoretical philosophy is based upon the transcendental
point of view precisely because it deals with the act of cognizing, and
thus with something within us,G and it is not concerned with any sort of
{mere} being. Practical philosophy is based upon the transcendental point
of view because it does not deal with the I as an individual at all, but
instead deals with reason as such, in its individuality. {The theory of eth¬
ics maintains that individuality is contained within and follows from
reason.9 That I am precisely this specific individual, however, is not
something that follows from reason.} The former theory is {in a certain (264)
respect} concrete; the latter is the highest abstraction {present within
thinking and involves an ascent} from the level of what is sensible to the
pure concept as a motive [for action].10
(3)	Ethics does not deal with any particular individual; instead, it deals
with reason as such or in general. Reason, however, is exhibited in many
individuals, who{se forces can} come into conflict with, {have an impact
on, and limit} one another within the same world. {Thus,} if the goal of
reason is to be achieved through {the unification of the individual goals
of} these individuals, then their physical force must be restrained {and
limited}, and everyone’s freedom must be restricted {so that they will not
hinder one another and} so that one person will not interfere with the
goal of another and {thereby} thwart {the overall goal of reason}. The
theory of right or natural law11 is what arises {from an inquiry into how
this can be accomplished}. The nature of this science has been misun¬
derstood for a very long time. It occupies the middle ground between
theoretical and practical philosophy; it is theoretical and practical phi¬
losophy at the same time.
■ {It is theoretical, because it speaks of a world—namely, of the world
as it ought to be found. If the goal of reason is to be achieved in a moral
world, then a juridical world, thanks to which the struggle between ef¬
ficaciously acting forces is restrained and limited, must already exist.}
The juridical world must precede the moral world.
Furthermore, the theory of right is practical as well. {Unlike nature,}
a just constitution of this sort does not come into being by itself; it must
be produced. But unlike morality, this cannot be accomplished by means
G [ . . . ] cognizing, as something within us (p. 263).
9	See § 19 of Fichte’s System der Sittenlehre {SW, IV: 254—55).
10	“ist die höchste abstraction, <der des Sinnlichten> zu dem reinen Begriffe als einem
Motive.” The translation of this obscure passage is guided by the corresponding passage
in H: “ist die höchste Abstraction in dem Denken, es ist die Erhebung zu dem reinen
Begrif als einem Motiv.”
" “die Rechtslehre oder Naturrecht.” The word Recht combines the meanings of the En¬
glish words “law,” “right,” and “justice.”

Deduction of the Subdivisions of the Wissenschaftslehre 471
of self-limitation; external means are required. Nor is this something
whose presence can [simply] be bidden, since it {does not depend upon
a single will, but} first requires the unification of the wills of many dif¬
ferent people. {This unification appears to be a product of nature.} (See
Kant’s Perpetual Peace.)12 The task of the theory of right can be described
as follows: the free wills [of many different individuals] are to be recon¬
ciled with one another in accordance with a certain mechanical connec¬
tion and interaction. No such natural mechanism exists in itself,
however, for this depends in part upon freedom. This condition, {this
legal constitution,} is brought about {by human beings} through the joint
efficacy of nature and reason.
Closely related to the theory of right and sharing the same domain is
the philosophy of religion. Together, these two constitute a third {part
of} philosophy: “the philosophy of the postulates.”13
{There is a postulate that theory addresses to the practical realm: that (265)
many free individuals ought to maintain a certain order and enter into
peaceful relations with one another. This is a postulate that theory ad¬
dresses to freedom as well as to reason, and this is how we obtain a the¬
ory of right.} The theory of right [is that part of the philosophy of the
postulates which deals with] the postulate [that theoretical philosophy
addresses to the practical realm,] to freedom.
■ The philosophy of religion [is that part of the philosophy of the pos¬
tulates which deals with] the postulate that practical philosophy ad¬
dresses to the theoretical realm, to nature, which, by means of a
supersensible law, is supposed to accommodate itself to the goal of mo¬
rality.*1 {This is the postulate of religion, and} the Wissenschaftslehre has to
derive and to explain this postulate {as such}. But it is not the task of the
Wissenschaftslehre to apply this postulate within life, {to generate religious
sentiments within ourselves and, through us, within other rational be¬
ings outside of us}; instead, the latter constitutes the pragmatic part of
philosophy and belongs to pedagogics sensu latissimo.14
(4)	Following this division, there still remains one science with which ev¬
eryone is familiar and which has always—and rightly—been considered
to be a part of philosophy, {and which we too consider to be a part of
philosophy}. (I do not mean logic, which applies to every science and
12	Zum ewigen Frieden. Ein philosophischer Entxvurf (1795), KGS, VIII: 341-86. English
translation by Lewis White Beck in Kant, On History (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1963),
pp 85-135.
13	Fichte is here employing the term postulate in the sense of Kant’s “postulates of prac¬
tical reason.” See Book II of the Critique of Practical Reason.
H Conversely, there is also a postulate that practical reason addresses to theory: that the
sensible world ought to accommodate itself to the goal of reason (p. 265).
14	“in the broadest sense of the term.” Cp. H: “In the highest sense of the word.”

472 Deduction of the Subdivisions of the Wissenschaftslehre
every craft and is the instrument employed in every rational proce¬
dure.)1 The science in question is aesthetics. Where does this science
belong? The philosophy we have just described, subdivided, and estab¬
lished the foundation of occupies the transcendental viewpoint, and
from there it surveys the ordinary viewpoint. {From its transcendental
viewpoint, the investigating I looks down upon the I it is investigating,
which occupies the real viewpoint.} This constitutes the very essence of
transcendental philosophy: that it has no desire to become a way of
thinking that could be employed within life; instead, it observes an [ac¬
tual] I, which embodies within life this system of thinking described by
transcendental philosophy. By itself, transcendental philosophy creates
nothing. The I it investigates occupies the ordinary viewpoint.
Within theory, philosophy takes as its particular object all humans as
particular beings; it constitutes a complete and self-contained science
when it has presented a human being in concrete,15 and its perspective
applies to every individual. In ethics and the theory of right, human be¬
ings are thought of as occupying the real viewpoint.-*
■ This involves a clear contradiction: The philosopher {occupies the}
ideal {viewpoint and} contemplates human beings {who occupy the real
viewpoint}.16 But the philosopher is, after all, {only} a human being as
well, {and, as such, he too occupies only the real viewpoint. How then is
he able to elevate himself to the transcendental viewpoint?} A human
being can elevate himself to the transcendental point of view, though he
does so not as a human being, but rather as someone engaged in a spec¬
ulative science.17 There arises for philosophy itself—and within philos¬
ophy itself—an impetus to explain its own possibility.K {How can a
human being who occupies the ordinary viewpoint raise himself to the
transcendental one?} What sort of transition is there from one of these
viewpoints to the other? This is a question concerning the very possibil¬
ity of philosophy. These two viewpoints are diametrically opposed to
1 Logic cannot be considered a part of philosophy; it is merely an instrument of philos¬
ophy—and not merely of philosophy, but of every other part of human knowledge as well,
and thus of reason as such (p. 265).
15	“und sie ist geschlo^en, so wie der Mensch in concreto dasteht.”
J This portion of philosophy takes as its object all humans as particular beings, and thus
it philosophizes for everyone and applies to everyone. To be sure, within ethics and [the
theory of) natural right, philosophy takes as its object human beings in the abstract; yet
even in this abstraction it thinks of them as occupying the real viewpoint (p. 265).
16	“der ideale Philosoph betrachtet den realen Menschen?” Literally: “the ideal philos¬
opher contemplates real human beings?”
17	Reading, with Krause’s MS, “als treibend eine speculative WiPenschaft” for K’s “als
transcenden[entale]r speculativer WiPenschaftl[er].”
K The philosopher can raise himself to and remain within the transcendental viewpoint,
but not as a human being; instead, he can accomplish this only as a speculating subject,
engaged in a speculative science conducted from the transcendental viewpoint. Conse¬
quently, there here arises, at least for the philosopher himself, an impetus to explain to us
the possibility of philosophy (p. 265).

Deduction of the Subdivisions of the Wissenschaftslehre
each other. If no middle term exists, then—according to our own first
principles—there is no means to make the transition {from the one} to
the other. It has {now} been demonstrated, {however,} as a matter of fact, (266)
that {a transcendental philosophy does exist. From this it follows that
these two viewpoints must not be absolutely opposed to each other; in¬
stead, they must also be united with each other through some middle
term.} [Consequently,] there does exist such an intermediary between
the transcendental perspective and the ordinary one. This midpoint is
aesthetics. From the ordinary point of view, the world appears to be
something given; from the transcendental point of view, it appears to be
something produced (entirely within me).18 From the aesthetic point of
view, the world appears to be given to us just as if we had produced it
and to be just the sort of world we would have produced. (See “Con¬
cerning the Duties of the Aesthetic Artist” in the [System of] Ethical
Theory.)19
To the aesthetic sense, the world20 appears to be free; to ordinary
sense, it appears to be a product of compulsion. E.g., every limitation in
space is the result of the limitation of one thing by others, which press
up against it. So too, every extension [in space] is the result of an inter¬
nal striving within the body. On every side, [we encounter both] fullness
and freedom. The former does not pertain to aesthetics, whereas the
latter does.
■ This describes the aesthetic sense, but the science {of aesthetics} is
something quite different. This science has a transcendental form, {for}
it is philosophy. The science of aesthetics describes the aesthetic way of
looking at things, {[and] it establishes the rules of aesthetics}. Thus a
“beautiful spirit” is not required for this sort of aesthetics. Aesthetic phi¬
losophy is a principal part of the Wissenschaftslehre,21 and, {in this
respect,} it is the opposite of all the other philosophy {described so far,}
which one could call “real philosophy.”22 The basis for this division lies
in the different viewpoints {occupied by the contemplating I}. In respect
of its material, aesthetics occupies the middle ground between theoret¬
ical and practical philosophy.L {The concept of the world is a theoretical
concept. [The concept of] the way in which the world ought to be made
18	“gemacht (alles in mir).” Radrizzani proposes to delete the words in parentheses
(which do not appear in H), on the grounds that they allegedly make no sense in this con¬
text and therefore must represent nothing more than a fragment that Krause was unable
to complete.
19	See § 31 of Das System der Sittenlehre (SW, IV: 353-56).
20	Reading, with H, “die Welt” for K’s “die Wille” (“the will”).
21	Reading, with H, “Wissenschaftslehre” for K’s “Wissenschaft” (“science”).
22	“und ist der ganzen anderen Philosophic, die man die reelle nennen konnte, entge-
gengesezt.”
L The basis for the division lies in the different viewpoints occupied by the contemplat¬
ing I, which [in this case] occupies a position between that of theoretical and that of prac¬
tical philosophy (p. 266).

Deduction of the Subdivisions of the Wissenschaftslehre
lies within us and is practical. Aesthetics is therefore practical as well.
However,} it does not coincide with ethics; for we are obliged to be con¬
scious of our duties, whereas the aesthetic way of looking at things is
natural and instinctive and does not depend upon freedom. {In contrast,
the ethical way of looking at things depends totally upon my freedom.}
{Remark:} It is by means of this aesthetic viewpoint that one raises one¬
self to the transcendental viewpoint; and thus it follows that the philos¬
opher has to possess an aesthetic sense, i.e., “spirit,” {for without this he
will not succeed in raising himself to the transcendental viewpoint}.23
This does not mean that the philosopher must necessarily be a poet or
a fine writer or an accomplished orator, but he must be animated by the
same spirit that, when cultivated, serves to develop one aesthetically.24
Without this spirit one will never make any headway in philosophy, but
will trouble oneself with the letters of the same without penetrating its
inner {spirit}.M
FINITUM MARCH 14, 1799
23	For more on this subject, see Fichte’s unpublished 1794 lectures “Ueber den Unter¬
schied des Geistes und des Buchstabens in der Philosophie” (“Concerning the Difference
between the Spirit and the Letter within Philosophy”). For the text of these lectures, which
are not contained in SW, see AA II, 3: 315-42 (in English, see EPW, pp. 192—215). See too
the similarly titled “Ueber Geist und Buchstab in der Philosophie: In einer Reihe von
Briefen,” which stems from 1795 but was not published by Fichte until 1800. In SW, VII:
270-300=AA I, 6:331-61. English translation by Elizabeth Rubenstein, “On the Spirit
and the Letter in Philosophy,” in German Aesthetic and Literary Criticism: Kant, Fichte, Schell-
ing, Schopenhauer, Hegel, ed. David Simpson, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1984), pp. 74-93.
24	“durch deßen Ausbildung man ästhetisch wird.” Literally: “through the cultivation of
which one becomes aesthetic.”
M From this it does not follow that the philosopher must be a “beautiful spirit,” but sim¬
ply that the philosopher is also animated by the same spirit through the cultivation of
which he could become more beautiful. Lack of such spirit is the [reason why] so many
people remain at the level of the letters and are not allowed to penetrate into the spirit of
the subject (p. 266).

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Johann Gottlieb Fichtes nachgelassene Werke. Ed. I. H. Fichte. 3 vols. Bonn: Adolph-
Marcus, 1834-35.
Johann Gottlieb Fichtes sämmtliche Werke. Ed. I. H. Fichte. 8 vols. Berlin: Veit,
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Johann Gottlieb Fichtes Werke. Auswahl in sechs Bänden. Ed. Fritz Medicus. Leipzig:
Meiner, 1908—12.
German Editions of the Wissenschaftslehre noua methodo
Fichte, Johann Gottlieb. “Aus der Hallische Nachschrift der W.L: 1. Die unmit¬
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INDEX
(Note: Unitalicized page numbers refer to the transcripts of Fichte’s lectures, as
translated in this volume. Page numbers in italics refer to the editor’s introduc¬
tion and notes.)
absolute, absoluteness, 114, 136, 251,
261, 271, 288, 309, 410, 423, 427,
438, 441
abstraction, 97, 101, 161, 227, 235, 263,
275, 284, 291, 347, 376, 405-6,
43311, 461, 470
accident, 127, 133, 164, 189, 246, 410-11,
421, 433m 442, 444
See also substance
act/action/acting (of the I), 70, 80, 84,
116, 152, 163, 171, 239, 243, 283-
85» 45°“51> 4^9
absolute, 162, 250
actual, 128, 161
and being, 346
concept of, 68, 157, 275, 451
free, 70, 92, 98-99, 126, 150, 168, 175,
182, 234, 238-39, 357
future, 187
internal, 110
necessary, 98, 101, 103, 121, 126, 172,
238
original, 102, 126, 234, 416—17
physical, 275, 456
of positing, 84—85
possibilities of, 69, 172, 175, 177, 180-81
possible, 161, 175, 259, 401
productive, 141
sensible, 272, 392
spiritual, 305
See also activity; freedom; I; limit(s)/limi-
tation/limited condition
Act (Tathandlung), /2-/3, 110, 118
See also I; self-consciousness
activity (of the I), 93, 111, 122, 128, 133-
34, 140, 225, 428, 441
absolute, 190
concept of, 131
consciousness of, 111, 162, 187, 283,
397-98
determinable, 127-29, 132
determinate, 121-23, 128, 157
ideal, 27, 67, 73, 140-49, 150-52, 155,
162-63, 168-69, 175-76, 179, 182,
186, 190-91, 193-95, 200-202,
208, 211-12, 218-19, 221-22, 225,
230, 234, 268, 273, 293, 305, 311,
313-Ч. 334. 364. 439
inner, 173П, 181
intuiting, 187
limited, 221
original limitation of, 336
outer, 173П
practical, 152, 155-56, 163, 167, 174,
192-93, 212, 219, 225
productive, 131, 142, 403, 442
pure, 166, 434, 436
real, 27, 67, 73, 140-48, 150-52, 155-
56, 160-62, 173-76, 182, 187,
190-91, 193, 195, 201-2, 211, 215,
221, 273, 313-4. 334. 439
self-reverting, 65, 74, 94-95. 97. 99.
111—12, 117-19, 302
spiritual, 439
See also act/action/acting; I; thinking/
thought
actuality, 161—63, 165-66
Aenesidemus, 1—2, 94
See also Schulze, Gottlob Ernst Ludwig;
skepticism
aesthetic judgment, 229П
aesthetics, science of, 472-74
[481]

482 Index
aesthetic sense, 473-74
affectability, system of, 207—8
affection, 176, 217, 313, 323, 363, 452
See abo feeling; self-affection
agility, 67, 116, 133, 141, 239, 361, 395,
397» 404-6, 4°8» 4!7
Allgemeine Literatur-Zeitung, 1—2, 115
alteration, 205, 210, 278—79, 300
concept of, 323-24
of feelings, 69, 205, 207, 213-14, 2 ib-
17, 220, 222, 266, 287, 299,
308, 313
analysis, 85, 109-11, 136, 278, 358-59,
365-66, 368, 371, 373, 380, 382,
400, 403, 468
analytic method, procedure, or thinking
182, 285, 297-98, 365-66, 380-81,
383, 387, 407
animals, 205, 468
antinomies of reason, 466
a posteriori, 243, 282, 381
apperception, pure, 193
a priori, 180, 240, 282, 284, 310, 381,
4M» 451
Atheism Controversy, /7, /9, 25, 26,
28, 40
autonomy, 423
Bardili, C. G., 20, 24, 30,
Beck, Jakob Sigismund, 103-4, 109, 240
becoming, 131
being, 147-48, 165, 170, 172, 183, 185,
310, 319-21, 334, 346, 359, 424-
25, 433n, 438-39, 456
absolute, 314
and activity, 172
actual, 131, 428
concept of, 67, 124, 131, 134
consciousness of, 346
empirical, 320, 329
external, 214
free, 234
higher, incomprehensible, 352
intelligible, 344n
of the I, 112, 172, 214, 216, 218,
311-12, 314, 320, 407-8, 433-3411,
449
of the Not-I, 124, 131, 170, 185, 197m
1.98, 445
of objects, 199, 216, 227, 320
posited, 404
rational, 331, 436
realm of (including being of other ratio¬
nal beings), 72-74, 302-5, 307,
3ï3» 344» 351-53» 357» 436-37»
444-47» 457» 458-59» 461-63, 464-
65. See abo freedom; I: individual;
individual/individuality
sensuous or sensible, 281, 414. See abo
thing/things, actual
supersensible, 414
and thinking, identity of, 357, 362, 369,
381, 396, 426
and willing, 311, 319, 369
See abo act/action/acting; doing; I, being
of; thinking/thought
belief/faith, 318
in one’s own self-sufficiency and free¬
dom, 95, 143
in reality of external things, 107
body, 209, 254, 320-22, 326-28, 331,
396, 418-19, 421
as articulated instrument, 176, 254-
55» 321» 324» 327» 459-61» 462n,
464-65
human, 208, 287, 328, 341, 345, 390,
421,457-59
as an organic whole, 73, 76, 254, 321
union of, with mind or spirit, 321, 420
See abo organ: outer; spirit, or mind;
world: corporeal
categories (of the understanding), 356,
387, 390-91, 421-22
deduction of, 83, 162, 387
See abo causality; ground, foundation,
basis; interaction; substance; sub¬
stantiality
causality, 228, 254, 258, 289, 312n, 362,
378, 408, 455
category of, 387, 390-91, 409, 412,
416, 421—22
concept of, 75, 182, 424, 442
law of, 76, 105, 238, 356, 465
synthesis of, 415—16
and time, 368, 442
See abo efficacy; willing, act of
certainty, of first principles, 96
check (Anstoß), 183
choice, free: freedom or power of
(Wilkiir), 68, 88, 160, 165, 168, 175,
181, 286-89, 316, 321, 346-48,
359» 375» 396, 435 .
See abo freedom; will; willing, act of
circularity, 72, 144, 205n, 284-87, 306-7,
336, 339» 352» 353n» 377» 412,
446, 446n
of dogmatism, 144
of human understanding, 184
of philosophical explanation and rea¬
son, 89, 333
cognition (Erkenntnb)/knowing (erkennen),
134-35» 346, 349-51» 361-62,
380, 470
a posteriori, 284
empirical, 347

Index 483
cognition (<continued)
immediate, 355
objective, or of objects, 232, 283-85,
308-9, 341, 347
of the object of acting, 348—49, 354
of possibilities of action, 175, 177, 181
practical, 346
sensible or sensuous, 346, 391
systematic, 84
See also knowledge
concentration/contraction, act of, 259-60,
263, 265, 348, 360
concept (¿tegn^/comprehending (begreifen),
70, 117-20, 127, 221-24, 232, 272
absolute, 341
first, 352
of the I, 70, 129-30
immediate, 129
indeterminate, 105
intelligible, 272
and intuition, 117-19, 123, 129-30,
221, 402
of the Not-I, 70
original, 344-45
pure, 262
sensible or sensuous, 261, 408
synthetic, 271
See also feeling; goal, concept of; I; intu-
ition/intuiting; thinking/thought;
willing, act of
consciousness, 96-97, 137, 371, 381, 423,
426, 446, 465
absolute, 358
actual, 67-68, 78, 146, 255
beginning of, 271, 290, 327, 346—48,
354* 358, 367-70* 4l4
center of, 371, 373, 412
conditions (for the possibility) of, 85,
146, 155, 169, 237, 283, 295,
345* 354
contents of, 176, 359, 467—68
deduction of, 96, 167, 307, 381, 425
dual aspect of, 420, 429
empirical, 73, 317, 330-31, 348, 429
first moment of, 335, 343, 358
history of, 342
identity of, 443
immediate, 65—66, 111,113-14, 118-20,
125, 128-29, 134, 142, 144-45* !75-
76, 223, 260, 262, 283, 311, 330,
346, 359* 363* 397-98, 412, 455
inner, 344
inner nature of, 417
intelligible, 269
levels of, 105
material, 175
mediated or indirect, 176, 283, 392-93,
397
object of, 67, 152, 162, 232, 283, 306,
330, 35°* 354
of objects, 88, 385
of one’s state as a whole, 311-12, 314-
15
ordinary, 91-92, 95, 104, 197, 199, 217,
227, 281-82, 398, 403, 408, 411-
12,441
original, 155, 345, 365
origin and ground of, 68, 96, 128, 174*
292-94* 34-15* 3i8» 322, 326*
331* 342-43* 353* 381, 415* 451
outer, 344
possibility of, 229, 275, 283, 287, 292,
295* 326, 330
sensible or sensuous, 294, 306, 415
unity of, 72, 136, 151, 264, 266, 275
See also I; self-consciousness; synthesis
constraint/constrained condition (of the I),
156-57, 160, 168-69, 177П
feeling of, 93
See also limits/limitation/limited condi¬
tion
continuity, 159, 266, 270
conviction, 81
Cotta, J. F., 19-22, 24
deduction, 80, 83, 149, 167, 184, 243,
355* 446
character of, within the Wissenschafts-
lehre, 83, 99, 125, 138, 243, 401 See
also categories; proof/proving
deed, 172П, 226
degree, 171, 200
deliberation, 259-60, 263-64, 293, 317,
348, 367, 369-70, 406-7, 428-29
demand, 310, 363
categorical, 259, 291-92
dependence, relationship of, 72, 267-
73* 275* 285-86, 355, 367, 378,
390*4i5
desire, 294-95
See also will; willing, act of
determinability, 126-27, 133, 135, 145,
147* 155* 348-49* 356-57* 4Ю,
446
concept of, 67, 127, 407
principle of, 67, 1 i6n, 146
determinable, what is, 121-22, 155, 156П,
160, 165-66, 168-71, 179, 225,
235-42, 253, 274, 281, 289, 298,
302, 346-51, 357-58, 376, 386-
87, 400—405, 410, 419—20, 424,
434* 436, 439* 444* 446, 45i“54*
460, 465
infinite divisibility of, 156, 158, 169-
70, 403
total sum of, 157-58

Index
determinacy, 133, 135, 147, 155, 169, 176,
236, 289, 347, 361, 407, 429-30,
436-38, 444, 449
determinate, what is, 122, 147-48, 160,
165-66, 177, 179-80, 225, 238,
250, 274, 284, 297-99, 300-302,
309-10, 346-51, 357—58’ 379, 400-
402, 410, 419-21, 436, 451-54,
460, 465
determination/determining, act of, 118,
134, 363’ 386-87, 392, 400, 405,
424’ 432
of place, 72, 250-52, 257, 272, 276
absolute, 246, 250, 256
See also space: determination or mea¬
surement of
divisibility, 156, 200,
dogmatism/dogmatists, 50, 91-93, 131,
133, 144, 164, 180, 226, 279, 330,
338~39’ 34on’ 395’ 4l8, 424
Critical, 91
vs. idealism or criticism, 91-96, 98, 105,
322, 33°’ 339
doing (instance of doing) (Tun), 191,
237-39’ 272-73, 313» 331’ 405’
407, 428
and being, identity of, 363, 424-25
consciousness of, 327-28, 397
determinate, 237, 239
inner, 345
intuition of, 236, 327—28
sensible, 393
drive, 69, 172-75, 181, 183, 288, 296
categorical, toward acting, 295
consciousness of, 175
for content (Sachtrieb), 186, 191
as what is highest or primary, 181
of the intellect, 19m
multiplicity of, 178
natural, 178
toward real activity, 191
toward reflection, 191
toward representation, 19m
dualism, 164
duration, temporal. See time
“Dutch scholar,” 43-44, 47, 3°4’
duty, 102, 437, 439, 469
consciousness of, 293
efficacy (Wirksamkeit), 275, 327—28, 458
of the I, 160, 290, 300, 386—87, 390,
412, 442-43’ 448, 455’ 459
inner, 264
real, 72, 276, 306-7
of willing, 72, 270, 275
See also causality; force
Elementary Philosophy, 2, 11-13
See also philosophy/philosopher, Critical;
Reinhold, Karl Leonhard
empiricism/empirical world (Empire), 240,
380, 412, 468—69
enduring, what is, 210
energy. See force
ethical law, 287, 291, 305, 309, 338,
439’ 469
See also imperative, categorical; morality
ethics, theory of, 309, 469—70, 472
existence, 325, 334
actual, 104
experience, 90-91, 100, 161, 210, 284,
34°n’ 363, 381, 390, 442, 468-69
deduction of, 162
definition of, 85, 105, 161
ground or foundation of, 90-91, 245,
269, 326
possibility of, 223, 340, 469
reality of, 104
relationship of philosophy and the Wis-
senschaftslehre to, 90—91, 100—107,
184, 252, 333
explanation, 279, 332, 423, 453
philosophical, 258, 335, 339-41
real, 360
extension, 248,
eye, 129-30, 143, 151-52, 256, 32m,
340. 385
fatalism, 92—93, 98
feeling, 68-69, 73> 176, 180-81, 188,
192, 202, 206, 220—21, 226, 248,
285» 294’ 3°8, 3*2, 323, 329-30,
360, 388
and acting, 285—86
as affection, 265
categorical, 296
and comprehending, 189
of constraint, 93
of freedom, 93-94, 203
of the I, 190, 202, 294
fundamental law of, 287
and ideal activity, 187-88,
immediate, 171, 202
of intellectual compulsion, 213, 217—18,
220, 224-26, 385, 428
intelligible, 264
and intuition, 69, 180—81, 187, 191—97,
202-3, 216, 226, 228-30, 252-55
of limitation, 202, 230, 294
and objects, 189-90
of oneself (self-feeling), 193-94, 209,
213, 224, 253 See also I: feeling of
original, 287, 322
of ought, 294-96, 307-8
of pleasure and pain, 178, i79n
power or faculty of, 72, 266, 313

Index 485
feeling (continued)
of prohibition, 294
of pure willing, 295
and reflection, 176, 329—30
of striving, 202, 294
system of, 69, 254
as what is primary and original, 176-
78, 220, 330
See also intuition/intuiting; manifold,
the; thinking/thought; willing,
act of
Feuerbach, Paul Johann Anselfm, io8n
Fichte, Johann Gottlieb:
in Berlin, 79, 26, 37
in Jena, 3—4, 28, 47
in Zurich, 2, 4
works:
Anweisung zum seligen Leben (Guide to the
Blessed Life), 32—33
Bardili Review, 20
Bericht über den Begriff der Wissenschafts¬
lehre, 9
Die Bestimmung des Menschen (The Voca¬
tion of Man), 79, 26-29
“Eigne Meditationen über Elementar-
Philosophie,” 371
Der geschlossene Handelstaat, 20, 26
Grundlage der gesamten Wissenschaftslehre
(Foundations of the Entire Wissen¬
schaftslehre), 5-73, 75, iôn, 77,
22, 37, 85-86, 118, 134-38, 173,
181-86, 240, 248, 314, 371,
381, 437
Grundlage des Naturrechts (Foundations of
Natural Right), 8, 10, 22, 37, 318,
343> 352
Grundriss des Eigentümlichen der Wissen¬
schaftslehre (Outline of the Distinctive
Character of the Wissenschaftslehre),
6-7, 77, 22, 37, 85-86, 234, 245-
48, 283
“Logic and Metaphysics” (Planter lec¬
tures), 297z, 43, 432, 433-34°’
433~34n
Sonnenklarer Bericht (Sun-Clear Statement),
20-21, 24, 26
Das System der Sittenlehre (System of Ethical
Theory), 8, 10, 29, 37, 42—43, 49,
3°9’ 337-38, 425, 436, 450, 452,
456’ 473
Ueber den Begriff der Wissenschaftslehre
(Concerning the Concept of the Wissen¬
schaftslehre), 4, 5, 18, 38a
“Ueber den Grund unseres Glaubens an
eine göttliche Weltregierung” (“On
the Foundation of our Belief in a
Divine Government of the
Universe”), 25
“Vergleichung des von Herrn Prof.
Schmid aufgestellten Systems mit
der Wissenschaftslehre” (“A Com¬
parison between Prof. Schmid’s Sys¬
tem and the Wissenschaftslehre”), 971
Versuch einer neuen Darstellung der Wis¬
senschaftslehre (Attempt at a New Pre¬
sentation of the Wissenschaftslehre), in,
9, 18-19, 25-26, 37-38
“Von der Sprachfähigkeit und dem Ur¬
sprung der Sprache,” 444
Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo, 13—2 7,
33-49
Halle Transcript, 11-12, 34-39,
41-49
Krause Transcript, 33-41
Wissenschaftslehre of 1800, 26—27, 30
“Zurich lectures,” 4
finitude, human, 93, 184, 273, 295, 311,
337’ 43°’ 44°
See also being, rational
fivefoldness, 371, 427-28, 434
See also synthesis; original, highest, or
primary
flow, flowing, 209, 299, 355, 379, 397,
410, 414-15, 428, 45°
force (energy) (Kraft), 141, 183, 248,
258, 264, 269-72, 325, 401, 405,
417, 428
concept of, 271-72
feeling of, 265
free, 415
inner, 72, 265, 275, 355, 361-62, 405,
421
of the intellect, 265
natural, 270, 417, 466
original, 321
outer, 72, 275
physical, 76, 270-72, 274—75, 408,
457-59, 465’ 47°
pure, 72, 265, 269, 275
self-active, 432
self-determining, 414, 428-29
sensible or sensuous, 269—71, 327, 389-
90, 392, 418, 424
form, systematic, 10
See also intuition/intuiting: form of
freedom, 67-68, 70, 79, 132, 144-50,
158—57, 159-60’ l69, 218-19,
227, 238, 241, 244-47, 286-87,
288, 352, 423, 431, 434-з8, 438-
39, 442, 445, 447, 45°’ 454, 456,
461, 464
absolute, 68, 137, 140, 142-43, 145,
147—48, 150, 157П, 166, 244, 288,
З^“16
of acting, 265
analagon (analogue) of, 463

486 Index
freedom (<continued)
as the basis of consciousness, 68, 139,
142-45» J47> 151» 220, 288, 366
consciousness of, 92, 95, 98, 361—
62, 436
and constraint, 219—20, 222. See also
constraint/constrained condition;
limit/limitation/limited condition
determinacy of, 435-36
feeling of, 69, 93
first act of, 234
formal, 167-68
general sphere or realm of, 75, 156,
445» 447» 453-55» 465- See also be¬
ing: rational; individual/individual-
ity; reason; realm of
of ideal activity, 71, 218, 227, 429
as immediate object of consciousness,
182
as independent being, 75
of the intellect, 25m
intuition of, 75, 141, 159
limitation of, 338
material (practical, real), 168
and nature, 464
object of, 178
of others outside me, 27-29, 75, 303,
445, 448—49. See also being: ratio¬
nal; I; individual/individuality
possibility of, 205n
as the power to begin a series, 288-89,
296, 423
as the principle, starting point, and
standpoint of philosophy, 143-44,
220, 464
of reflection, 191, 226-27. See also re¬
flection; thinking/thought
of thinking, 265
See also act/action/acting; activity;
consciousness; I; task of self
limitation
genetic account or presentation, 92, 106,
36°» 389
genetic demonstration, 381
genetic description, 387
genetic explanation, 100
genetic origination, 437
genetic procedure or method, 77
genetic understanding, 213, 2/771, 242,
366, 380, 387
genius, philosophical, 117
given, the (what is discovered), 109, 127-
29, 132, 156-57, 169, 171, 194-95»
200, 234, 238, 240, 242, 244, 270,
298, 3°6» 320, 34«n, 347, 352“53n»
379» 387» 397» 403» 424» 427» 435-
37,442-43, 450-51»466“68» 473
goal, concept of, 4771, 68, 148, 150, 152,
153, 156, 161, 167-69, 175, 180,
187—89, 198, 204, 223, 283—85,
309, 318, 338, 341-42, 346-47,
352-53» 368-69» 372-79» 384-85»
387-93» 395-97» 406, 409-10, 412-
13, 418, 422, 428-29, 440-41,
45°—51»454
See also will; willing, act of
God, 28, 30, 81, 102, 165, 173, 1740,
230-32, 295, 418-19, 433—34n»
460
existence of, 79, 231, 436
ground, foundation, basis {Grund), 88-90,
104, 114, 149, 423
category of, 387
principle of, 387
real, 356, 390
Hemert, Paulus van, 43, 304
holiness, 295
Hommel, Karl Ferdinand, 98
Hülsen, August Ludwig, 262
Hume, David, 79
I:
absolute, 434
absolute freedom of, 315
actual, 152
appearance of, 168,
character or essence of, 96-97, 112,
i42n, 148, 150-51, 153, 172, 190,
217, 261, 300, 311, 358, 365, 380-
81, 391, 403, 425, 447, 450, 458
as concept and intuition, 129—30
concept of, 65, 69, 97, 99, 110, 112,
114-15, 119, 124, 129, 132-34,
222, 261, 422, 424
corporeal, 458
determinable, 333~34» 337
determinacy or determinate state of,
176-78, 291, 310-11, 333-34» 337»
383, 402, 431, 448
determinate determinability of, 452
dual aspect of, 151-52, 196, 333,
335» 339» 341» 361-62, 365, 416,
425» 447
empirical, 315
existence for itself of, 204, 358, 364,
424» 433-34n
feeling of, 192-93, 195, 198,
201-2, 209
ideal, 185, 202, 253, 333n, 396
identity of, 68, 434n
as identity of doing and being, 363
as identity or union of what is ideal and
what is real, 363, 396
independence of, 181

Index 487
I (continued)
individual, 302, 307, 310, 313, 337, 351,
355* 37°* 437* 469- See ako being;
rational, realm of; individual/
individuality
infinite, 183
intelligible, 290,
intuition of, 65—66, 164, 180, 209
limited state of, 183-84, 199, 202, 204-
5, 212, 214, 216, 220, 222, 225, 294
and Not-I, 66—67, 95- See also Not-I
objective aspect of, 269, 467
original, 201, 236, 285, 311, 314
original determinancy of, 172, 300-301,
303,312-13,323-24
original limitation of, 223, 243, 313,
434* 44i * 465
as philosophical starting point, 109-
11, 424
practical, 152, 156, 160-61, 180, 184,
198, 202, 253
pure, 104, 165, 420, 437, 459
real, 185, 211-12, 3330, 376, 397
reality of, 152, 311, 314
self-positing of, 65, 95, 97-100, 105,
112-16, 118-20, 123—24, 139, 151,
155, 167, 183, 193, 204, 225, 415,
425. See also Act; activity: self-
reverting; self-consciousness
spiritual, 254, 261, 301, 424
as subject/object, 82, 111, 113—15, 118,
144, 148, 151-52, 333, 370, 396,
419—20, 430
substance of/substantial, 129, 131, 431,
441. See also being: of the I
theoretical, 185, 198. See also intellect/
intelligence
true, 292
unity of, 280
See also activity; body; consciousness;
finitude; freedom; I-hood; intellect/
intelligence; self-consciousness;
self-determining, act of; spirit, or
mind; will
Idea, 79, 125, 129, 144, 152, i64n, 165,
185, 200, 207, 218, 231, 300, 310,
329* 413, 435, 441, 452
ideal, the, 151, 198, 200, 333, 392, 394-
95* 415
consciousness of, 69, 150
and the real, 170, 359
See also activity; intuition/intuiting;
thinking/thought
idealism/idealists, 78, 81, 91-96, 98-100,
102-7, »21, 133* !44* 3!9* 322,
338* 390
Critical, 99, 103, 121, 164, 277, 285,
3°2* 33°
of inner sense (of time), 370
non-Critical or “groundless,” 99,
100, 164
of outer sense (of space), 370
pure, 422
scientific, 98-99
starting point of, 105
task of, 98, 100
transcendent, 184
transcendental, z, 299, 332—33, ^9,
370* 381, 39m, 402, 404, 408, ’
419* 458
See also Kantianism; philosophy/philoso-
pher: Critical; Wissenschaftslehre
I-hood, 82, 315, 333, 345, 359, 370, 380,
396,413*419* 425, 437, 441
image (Bild) and thing, 149, 152, 197,
212, 268
imagination/power of imagination, 74-75,
245. 269, 398-409, 414-15* 419»
421-22, 428, 432, 455
deduction of, 401
and intuition, 266
and judgment, 403-4
productive, 189, 299, 399, 402, 438, 440
theory of, 189, 393-422
reproductive, 190
and thinking, 401-2, 415, 420—21
transcendental, 117
See also oscillation or hovering; synthe¬
sis; thinking/thought
immortality, 79, 81, 102
imperative, categorical, 259, 293, 295,
437* 447
See also ethical law
impulse. See drive
inability, cognition of, 329, 339, 345
indeterminacy, state of, 121-22, 133, 148
individual/individuality, 72-73, 75, 105,
287, 304, 350-51, 355, 437, 439,
445* 447* 449* 452~53* 455“5b,
469-70
See also being: rational; freedom; I; rea¬
son: realm of
induction, 80, 243
infinitude, human, 93
infinity, 183, 200, 398-99, 440
intellect/intelligence, 68, 92, 150-53, 190,
195* 337* 390* 418-19
determinacy of, 160-6in, 247
finite, 145
freedom of, 150-51, 181, 297-98
passivity of, 92
See also I; thinking/thought
intelligible, what is, 274-75, 281-82, 309,
32°* 33°» 334* 343* 345* 347* 350,
364, 381, 394
intended, what is, 127-29, 132, 137

488 Index
intensity, 200, 248
interaction (reciprocity/reciprocal interac¬
tion [Wechselwirkung]), 125, 135, 164,
170, 173, 182, 190, 213, 330, 347n,
357, 416, 418, 424, 441-42, 464
category of, 391, 421—22
intuition/intuiting, 66, 114, 118-20, 129-
30, 134, 140-41, 151, 158, 161,
165, 191, 195, 251, 281, 323,
388, 402
absolute, i64n
and action, 168, 188, 195, 451
character of, 188, 198, 433n
concept of, 67
content of, 193-95
determinate, 255n
form of, 193, 240, 244, 267, 283, 301,
366, 368
of the I, 111, 113-15, 127, 209, 212-13,
253» 341
of the ideal, 69, 202
immediate, 115
inner, 127, 129, 130, 213, 282, 320, 341
intellectual, 65-66, 72, 115, 127, 129,
i3on, 133, 275, 280—82, 290-91,
364, 433-34«
intelligible, 262
manifold of, 269
of the Not-I, 127
object of, 69, 176, 194, 228. See also
Not-I; thing/things: actual
of oneself, 101
original, 132
outer, 127, 130, 213, 240,244, 301,
320-21, 341
role of, in philosophy, 117, 125, 135—36
sensible, 262, 272, 281-82, 291,
413.458
See also concept/comprehending; doing;
feeling; imagination/power of imag¬
ination; space; thinking/thought;
time; willing
Jacobi, Friedrich Heinrich, 197, 410
works:
David Hume iiber den Glauben, iqjn, 410
Jacobi an Fichte, 29-50
judgment (power of), 303, 403-5
reflective, 303
See also imagination/power of imagina¬
tion; thinking/thought
Kant, Immanuel, 1, 5W, 11, 12, 38, 79-81,
83-84, 87, 90, 95, 101, 103-4, 115.
117, 124, 130, 143, 164, 178, i7gn,
193, 196, 1970, 221, 230-32, 235,
238, 240, 243, 260—62, 265, 271—
72, 278, 282, 288, 293-94, 297-98,
3°3-5> 326, 328, 334, 338, 373,
380, 39°—91’ 4°2, 408-10, 421-
23, 432, 433-34n, 439. 447. 466-
68, 471
works:
Critique of Judgment, 178, 2i2n, 26m,
298, 3°3
Critique of Practical Reason, 298
Critique of Pure Reason, 2, 8, 80, 103,
162, 243, 261, 277, 298, 305,
39 L 409
Metaphysics of Morals, 235, 288, 294
Metaphysics of Nature, 468
Perpetual Peace, 470
“Von eimem neuerdings erhobenen
vornehmen Ton in der
Philosophie,” 163, 231
See also idealism/idealists; Kantianism;
Kantian philosophy; philosophy/
philosopher: Critical
Kantianism, 90, 304
so-called, 280
Kantian philosophy, 81, 164, 277, 381
Fichte’s criticism of, 82, 113, 151, 162,
243
See also idealism/idealists; philosophy/
philosopher: Critical
knowledge (Wissen), immediate, 386, 424
See also cognition/knowing
Krause, K. C. F., 55-56, 45
law/laws, 100
of intuition, 100, 219
mechanical, 461, 468
natural, 150, 295, 461
organic, 468
of reason, 100—101, 103, 229, 231, 238,
240, 383-34
supersensible, 471
See also reflection: laws of; thinking/
thought: laws of
Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm von, 361
life, 265,
limits/limitation/limited condition, 173,
182, 225-26, 322
and action/activity, 312-13
alteration of, 214-17
and consciousness, 184, 335
and doing, 313
and feeling, 190, 212, 215, 230
feeling of, 69, 195, 200
and freedom, 201, 286—89, 293, 434-
35. 447« 45°> 457- See ako freedom:
and constraint
and intuition, 212
moral, 450
original, 184, 217, 278
physical, 450

Index 489
limits/limitation/limited condition
(continued)
quantum of, 215, 218, 225
and reflection, 183, 342
and striving, 198, 258
and willing, 325-26, 330-31, 335-
3^346
See also I: original limitation of
logic, 472-73
magnitude, negative, 131
Maimon, Salomon, n6n
manifold, the (multiplicity), 85, 96, 137,
i55, 159m 160, 166, 169m 170,
261, 266-67, 272, 282, 324-25,
345, 347» 365-66, 368, 371, 382,
39399-404, 408-9, 415_17*
428, 440
of feeling, 69, 177-78, 204-6, 267-68,
277, 282, 290, 299, 308, 311, 324
infinite divisibility of, 68, 165, 169, 171,
397, 438
unity of, 267, 273, 275-77, 279, 290,
299, 305, 399
and will/willing, 168, 178, 280, 325,
326n, 330, 335, 432
See also experience; imagination/power
of the imagination; synthesis
mankind, vocation, destiny, or nature of,
81, 300
materialism, 164
matter, 177-78, 232, 241, 247-48, 394,
402, 433m 438-39, 445
as form of outer intuition, 244, 253,
301, 320-21, 374
infinite divisibility of, 244, 248, 462
in space, 71, 208, 241-42, 247, 254, 438
See also space
memory, 280
metaphysics, 90, 417
mind. See spirit, or mind
moral development, 231
morality, 230, 295
theory of, 293
See also ethical law; ethics, theory of;
imperative, categorical
movement, 398-400, 405, 428
consciousness of, 324-25, 414
“must,”435
mysticism, 334
nature, 75, 150, 178, 205, 23m, 404, 442,
445* 459-64. 468, 471
as organized/organizing, 76, 302, 304,
461—66
philosophy of, 29-70, 43
See also Not-I
Nicolai, Friedrich, 24
Not-I, 123-24, 128, 131—32, 134-36,
162, 167, 189, 194-95* 3°2* 440-
4i* 443
and the I, 124, 126, 133, 163-65,
182, 185, 213, 216, 222, 441-43,
445* 462
concept of, 69, 83, 222n
independence of, 75
reality of, 185
See also being: of the Not-I; manifold,
the; nature; object/objects
noumenon/noumena, 243, 260—62, 271,
282, 303, 305, 341, 400, 402, 405-6,
408, 410, 414, 420, 428-29, 432,
439-40, 442-43* 448, 454-55* 460
object/objects, 78, 124, 166, 188-89, 229,
234* 241* 257, 347* 355* 4!6, 419*
440, 444, 460
actual or real, 198—99, 201, 388, 393,
440
cognition of, 284—85
determinable, 199—200
determinate, 199—200
external, 77—78, 161—62, 194—97, 229,
242-43, 261, 402-3
ideal, 254
of intuition, 188-89, 195
possible, 198-99, 201
sensible, 446
See also being; imagination/power of
imagination; intuition/intuiting;
Not-I; synthesis
objectivity, 166, 188, 208, 228-29, 237,
242, 268, 270, 298-99, 315, 388-
89* 393* 395* 434
spiritual or intellectual, 334
opposing, act of, 124, 135-36, 155, 169-
71, i79n, 183, 188, 191, 194, 206,
324, 401, 448
law or principle of, 116, n6n, 123-25,
133-34. 219
organ, 331
inner, 327, 329, 331, 335-36, 338, 341,
345
outer, 73, 327, 329, 331, 335-36, 338,
340-41, 345
See also body
organization, concept of, 461-62
origination, concept of, 291
oscillation or hovering (Schweben), 68, 160,
166, 200, 259, 360-61, 376, 409,
429
See also imagination/power of imagina¬
tion
ought (Sollen), 72, 291-92, 295-300, 337,
435-36, 447* 45°* 452
See also feeling

490 Index
passivity/passive state {Leiden), 93, 98,
363» 441
perception, 271, 322, 362, 376, 449,
452, 456
immediate, 359
sensible, 327, 374, 452
period/periodum, synthetic, 371, 383—
. 85» 427
permitted, what is, 295
phenomenon/phenomena, 261-62,
443» 448
Philosophisches Journal einer Gesellschaft
Teulscher Gelehrten, 18, 20, 444
philosophy/philosopher:
as a science, 78-79, 90
concept and task of, 31—32, 77—79, 81,
87-90, 100, 309, 318, 332, 419,
43°» 469
Critical, 106, 358
Fichte’s interpretation of, 1-2, 12,
242, 303, 409
relationship to the Wissenschaftslehre,
8, 297
systematic unity of, 12
See also idealism/idealists; Kant, Im¬
manuel; Kantianism; Kantian phi¬
losophy; Wissenschaftslehre
empty, 109
first principle of, 11, 95, 108—10, 118,
126
formulaic, 405
language and terminology of, 13, 23,
31, 100-102, 394, 413, 415, 423,
430
method or procedure of, 235-36, 26m,
339» 363» 371» 401> 474
need for, 80-81, 88
origin of, 88
Popular, 83, 83П
possibility of, 89-91, 472-73
of the postulates, 471
practical, 4, 11, 85-86, 157, 182, 468-
71» 473
proof in, 82, 95, 101, 108-9, 118
real {reel), 358, 472-73
starting point of, 430
systematic form of, 82, 108
theoretical, 4, 11, 85-86, 157, 182,
468-71, 473
transcendental, 122, 324, 332, 334, 341,
360, 371-73, 381, 458, 472
See also dogmatism/dogmatists; idealism/
idealists; intuition/intuiting: role of,
in philosophy; Kant, Immanuel;
reflection; viewpoint/point of view/
standpoint: philosophical; Wissen¬
schaftslehre
physics, 417
plants, 205, 300, 302n, 468
Planter, Ernst, 115, 421, 433n
positing, 96
original, 84
See also consciousness; I: self-positing
of; self-determining, act of
possibility, 161-63, ï66
postulate/postulates, 92, 95, 102, 109-10,
121, 125-26, 134-35, 138, 178,
205, 208, 216-17, 259, 297-98,
355» 451 » 471
power {Potenz), 349
power, ability, or faculty {Vermögen), 126—
27, 140, 405, 407-8, 421, 431-32
empirical, 349
ideal, 69, 144, 152, 314
inner, 340
necessary, i72n
outer, 340
practical, 140, 142, 147-53, *6i, 168,
170, 183, 215, 220, 257-58
pure, of the intellect, 270
real, 67-68, 145, 152, 314
sensuous or sensible, 432
theoretical, 226, 258
total, 402
See also feeling; imagination/power of
i magination ; i n tuition/in tuiting;
reason; reflection; thinking/
thought; willing, act of
principle, regulative, 383
productive activity {Machen), 386
prohibition, feeling of, 292, 345
proof/proving, 82, 108—9, *36» 239» 386
qualities, basic or elementary, 170, 17m,
\77
quantifiability, 135
quantity, 135-37, 170, 387-88
quantum, i5gn, 219, 212, 248, 272, 312,
420, 457
of comprehending, 225
of determinability, 286-87, 289
of efficacy, 444
of striving, 254, 258
See also limits/limitation/limited
condition
real, the, 78, 141, 148, 170, 333, 394-96,
415» 437
and the ideal, 182, 333, 359, 390, 392,
394-96
realism, 184
reality, 103, 228-29, 232, 434
of the actions described within philoso¬
phy, 103
of the Not-I, 185
See also being

Index 4g 1
reason:
absolute, 352n
determinate, 302
essence or character of, 83
finite, 105, 315
interest of, 95
levels of, 154-55
limits of, 104—5, 139> 278, 33°
and nature, 471
practical, 7, 304, 470
primacy of, 12, 162-63
pure, 262
realm of, 75, 349-51, 355, 447“49»
452-53» 455-57» 47o. See also be¬
ing: rational, realm of
speculative, 394
system of, 374
theoretical, 11-12, 304
See also being: rational; I; freedom;
thinking/thought
reciprocity/reciprocal interaction. See
interaction
reflection, 66-67, 7°» 73» 86, 133, 154,
160, 183, 193, 217, 220, 232, 314,
326, 330, 334-35» 423
discursive character of, 73, 322
and feeling, 176, 217
freedom of, 99, 181, 219-20, 230, 314-
17, 322, 326, 330-31, 335, 342
laws of, 86, 128-29, 134, 140, 333-34
object of, 70, 325, 450
power of, 334
pure, 120
reflective opposition, law of, 125
Reinhold, Karl Leonhard, 2, 3, $n, 10-12,
14, 24, 31, 109-10, 1850, 188,
278, 408
See also Elementary Philosophy; philoso-
phy/philosopher: Critical
religion, philosophy of, 29, 471
See also God
repose, state of (Ruhe), 66, 116—19, 122—
23, 126-28, 130-31, 133, 324-25
representation, 141, 372, 380, 399, 433^
and acting, 162-63, 218, 337
consciousness of, 78
deduction of, 162-63
and feeling, 190, 230
first, 351
freely produced, 129
laws of, 222, 428
necessary (accompanied by feeling of
necessity), 87-89, 91, 96-97, 100,
102-3
objective validity of, 78-79, 84, 87,
102-3, 19on» 230-32, 248, 252
and objects or things, 70, 78, 84, 87,
188, 218, 227, 233, 362
origin of, 102, 261
positing of, 389
power of, 368, 408
reality of, 79
sensible, 367П, 374
resistance, 171
synthesis of, 68, 166
revelation, immediate, 115, 197
right (Recht):
concept of, 230
natural, 295
theory of, 470-72
Schelling, Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph, 2 7,
29-30» 43» 115
schema/schematism, 238, 243, 247, 268,
273
Schiller, Johann Christoph Friedrich von,
164
Letters Concerning Aesthetic Education, 164
Schmid, Karl Christian Erhard, io8n
Schulze, Gottlob Ernst Ludwig, 1, 2, 11,
94n
See also Aenesidemus; skepticism
science:
demands of, 97, 120
natural, 461
need for, 81, 84
See also philosophy/philosopher; Wissen-
schaftslehre
self, 150
self-activity (Selbstàtigkeit), 93-94, 96—97,
121, 148, 154, 190, 337-38, 350,
427-28
absolute, 272, 336
self-affection, 143, 147-48, 150, 157,
159-60, 171, 173, 225, 264-65,
3!2, 456
self-apprehension, 414
self-consciousness, 220, 381, 345, 391, 425
conditions (for the possibility) of, 184,
217, 388, 436-37
immediate, 66, 119-20, 168, 224, 270,
37 L 422
origin of, 351
See also Act; consciousness; freedom; I;
willing, act of
self-determining, act of, 74, 133, 141, 150,
175, 187, 193, 205, 254, 269, 274,
352, 383» 4°6> 4«8» 410» 413-14>
416, 422-24, 429, 452
absolute, 272
as what is first and highest, 414
selfhood, 438—39, 461
concept of, 351, 423
self-intuition, 121, 123, 142-43, 145, 174,
201, 209, 212, 312
self-limitation, 435, 458, 471

492 Index
self-observation, 66, 101-2, 110, 119-20,
143, 211, 361, 386, 391
self-positing. See I, self-positing of
self-production, 424-25, 437
self-reflection, 92
self-sufficiency, 93, 95, 439* 443* 444
sensation, 207
sensibility, 344
general system of, 177-81, 207-9,
253* 3°8
sensibilization/process of making sensible
(Versinnlichung), 281, 296—97, 341,
345-46, 389, 393, 407-8, 410, 418,
424, 439, 444, 45°“53* 459n>
464-	65
sensible, what is, 281, 364, 397
sensuousness, 344
series, 267, 280, 358
dual, of what is subjective (intended)
and what is objective (discovered),
132. See also thinking/thought:
ideal, real
mechanical, 417, 456
organic, 417
of the real and ideal, 396, 427-28,
462-63
skepticism, 79, 81
Humean, 1
soul, 78, 112, 114, 341, 345, 408, 420,
43 !* 458
and body, 341, 396, 458
space, 70-71, 104-5, 158* 208-9, 232*
239-48* 252-57. 273* 3Q1* 3°9*
320-27
a priori character of, 240
continuity of, 71, 247-48
determination or measurement of, 245-
51, 256-57, 258, 272-73, 275. See
also determination/determining, act
of: of place
ideality of, 2460, 367, 370
infinite divisibility of, 244-45, 398, 406
infinity of, 200-201, 254—55, 413, 435,
465-	66
intuition of, 71
positing of objects in, 72, 184, 229, 241,
256-57* 438-39* 457
See also body; intuition/intuiting; matter
Spinoza, Benedict de, 92, 460
spirit, or mind (Geist), 114, 321, 396, 408,
420, 434, 436, 474
duality of, 365, 440
mechanism or “inner working” of, 132,
206
system of, 192
vs. letter, 7, 12, 474
See also activity; I; intellect/intelligence
spontaneity, 145, 150, 208, 247, 338
striving, 172, 174, 183, 185, 199-200’
212, 214, 254, 256-57, 275* ЗЗО
feeling of, 198, 202, 230
infinite, 254, 255
limitation of, 292
positing of, 71-72
self-engendered, 172
suppressed, 259
subject, the, 114
absolute, 386
active, 163, 210
choosing, 375
comprehending, 153, 224
of consciousness, 128
determining, 381, 416, 420-21, 454*
460-62
feeling, 180-81, 188, 209-10, 25З’ 255
3!3* 329* 396
intuiting, 132, 140-41, 144, 150, *53*
180-81, 188, 209, 211, 215* 2l9’
251* 255
mediating, 366
productive, 144
representing, 91-92, 96-97, 163, 227,
230П, 248, 260
thinking, 360, 366, 396
willing, 260, 270, 280, 299, 311, 3J5*
319* З60* 368* 387
See also consciousness; I
sublime, the, 278
substance, 94, 129, 131, 410—11, 431_32*
433П, 440, 444
absolute character of, 410
and accident, 126-27, 164
category of, 416
concept of, 75, 410
substantiality, 246
category of, 391, 412, 421-22
concept of, 420-21, 424, 442
and time, 442
substrate, 97, 18in, 324, 440
succession, 205, 354
summons (Aufforderung) to free action
and/or free self-limitation, 74, 76,
35°-53> 355-58, 363, 369-7°*
453-57* 459* 461, 469
supersensible, the, 243, 287, 290, 29m,
306, 315, 366-67, 397, 453, 457
synthesis, 87, 89, 109-10, 124, 126, 137,
212, 219, 229П, 269, 285-86, 326,
365* 368, 373, 380, 388, 392,
394-95* 412, 420, 434* 441*
444* 446
original, highest, or primary, 85, 382,
392, 396, 399* 4°2, 41 i“12, 4l6—
17, 420, 426-27, 444, 446-47* 451
463-65
of willing and being, 312

Index 493
synthetic method, procedure, or manner
of thinking, 182, 248-49, 285, 289,
297-98, 449
See also thinking/thought: synthetic
synthetic unity, 151, i72n, 1950, 196,
201, 202, 228, 238, 241, 247, 346,
383, 391. See also fivefoldness;
thinking/thought
systematic form, 84
See also philosophy/philosopher
task of self-limitation, 73-74, 337-45,
349, 436, 447, 457-59, 469
twofold aspect of, 447
See also freedom
thesis, 85
absolute, 285
thing/things, 70, 75, 156, 240, 438, 443
actual, 78
external, 184, 227-28
in itself, 80, 91, 94, 105, 119, 164, 185,
279> 323» 334n» 338> 433n
unintelligibility of, 163, 434n
as noumenon, 443
as phenomenon, 443
reality of, 107, 228
representation of, 70, 227
thinking/thought, 117, 188, 282, 284, 309,
323> 374» 383» 422
absolute, 439
abstract, 376-79
and acting, 450-51
analytic, 365-66, 370, 379
and being. See being: and thinking,
identity of
categorical, 260
concrete, 376—79, 426
determinate, 260, 432
discursive, 84, 145, 184, 228, 280, 298,
300, 311, 313, 387
duality of, 458
empirical, 299, 432, 440
and feeling, 385, 387-88
form of, 310
free, 90
of a goal, 360
See also goal, concept of
ideal, 360, 364, 372-88, 426-27, 429-
31» 437-41» 444-45» 458
series of, 372-88
and imagining, 415
immediate, 382
indeterminate, 235-36
and intuition, 319, 368, 447-48
laws of, 100, 161, 296, 300, 309, 316,
325» 335» 367, 374» 399» 412-13.
427» 453-54» 467-68
mediated, 382, 387, 393
necessary, 292, 361, 432
objective, 252, 319, 346, 360, 383,
385» 461
organic, 427
original, 387
problematic, 260
productive, 432
pure, 364, 390, 393, 405-6, 416, 418,
425» 432» 444» 453
real, 360, 364, 372, 384-85, 388-90,
393» 426-27, 429-32, 434-35»
437-41» 444-45, 449, 458
series of, 384-93
sensible or sensuous, 364, 389-90,
435» 458
supersensible, 243
synthetic, 313, 364-66, 370-76, 379,
380-85, 395». 415
See also synthesis; synthetic method,
procedure, or manner of thinking
transcendent, 95
transcendental, 95
and willing, 319, 425
Tiedemann, Dietrich, 88
time, 104-5, 156» 184, 267, 269-70, 27m,
277-81, 300, 30m, 312, 316, 320,
322-23, 337, 366-69, 371, 377,
380, 409—10, 442
deduction of, 205
and duration, 409—10, 442
ideality of, 370, 411
infinity of, 254
measurement of, 252
series of (temporal series), 72, 269, 274,
288, 361, 374-75» 378, 409
See also intuition/intuiting
transition, movement of (Uebergehen):
from determinability to determinacy,
66-67, 116-17, 131» 133» 142, 145»
147» 154» 207, 225, 237-38, 268,
286, 293, 299-301, 305, 347-48,
360-61,383,401,407, 432, 452-53
law or principle of, 121—23, 134, 179,
219, 260, 294, 296, 301, 378, 427
from determinacy to determinability,
169
from repose to activity, 129, 137
truth, 218-19, 225, 229-30, 232, 251, 333
objective, 251, 257
understanding (Verstand), 361, 468
See also cognition/knowing; thinking/
thought
unity, systematic, 10
See also synthesis; synthetic unity
validity, 230-31, 287, 332
hypothetical, 80
objective, 230-31, 252

494 Index
validity ((continued)
of representations, 78—80. See also rep¬
resentation
subjective, 230—31
universal, 101, 350
viewpoint/point of view/standpoint:
aesthetic, 473—74
Critical, 376
empirical, 355
ideal, 106, 472
of idealism, 105—6
of the individual, 105—6
of life, 106
ordinary, 106, 176, 196, 359-60, 367,
375» 378, 402, 421, 460, 472-73
philosophical, 110, 194, 422
practical, 106, 185, 265, 341
real, 472
theoretical, 265
transcendental, 106, 176, 336, 341, 346,
359-60, 367, 378, 387, 405, 470,
472-74
will, 260, 262, 270, 328, 360, 383—84
absolute character and primacy of,
260, 271
causal power of, 72, 258, 265—67, 270,
274’ 375
and cognition, 363
empirical, 293, 349, 355
free, 92, 300, 407. See also choice, free
intelligible character of, 271, 294
original, 337, 450
original determinacy of, 300—303, 306-
7,310-12,337
original limitation of, 323, 329, 337n, 343
pure, 72, 292-94, 330, 333, 335, 337,
347’ 354’ 359
See also desire; freedom; synthesis; will¬
ing
willing, 73, 167, 258—65, 269, 280—81,
316-17, 348-50, 360, 363, 369,
371_75» 422-23
absolute and unconditional character of,
260, 280, 294
concept of, 260, 407
consciousness of, 74
and doing, 328
double aspect of, 325, 327-28, 378
empirical, 292—93, 308, 311, 317-19,
321, 346-47, 373-74, 423
as what is highest and original, 259-60
immediate/immediacy of, 260
object of, 264
original, 293, 299, 321, 349
pure, 292-94, 296, 299, 308, 317, 423,
425; as explanatory ground of con¬
sciousness, 294
See also choice, free; freedom; goal, con¬
cept of; I; will
wish/wishing, 262—63, 317
Wissenschaftslehre:
of cognition, 467
concept and task of, 52, 81-85, 87, 283,
354-55’ 388, 413
distinctive character of, 79—85, 164,
189, 380, 366, 387, 391, 394, 416—
17, 420
divisions and structure of, 392, 467—74
evolution and revisions of, 2—55
“foundational” portion of, 467—69
overall structure and argument of the
new presentation ( = Wissenschafts¬
lehre nova methodo), 85—86, 101, 167,
182, 220—23, 289—90, 303, 332,
344’ 346, 354-55’ 359« 362, 371-
72, 381-82, 393, 397, 427, 432,
446—49, 465. See also Fichte Johann
Gottlieb: works: Grundlage der ge-
samten Wissenschaftslehre
method and evidence of, 82-84, 86, 95,
99, 100-101, 109-10, 120, 123,
125-26, 135—36, 165, 217, 223,
248-49, 258-59, 274, 283, 290,
323’ 332’ 352, 354-55, 365, 371,
380-81, 383, 413, 430
origin and meaning of the name, 1,
3’ 87
practical, 8, 469
spirit of, 332, 420, 474
starting point of, 109, 424, 430
theoretical, 467—68
universal validity of, 101, 332
See also idealism/idealists; philosophy/
philosopher
world, 83-84, 99-100, 177, 195, 205, 223,
227, 230, 341, 420, 427, 44o-4ri
466, 468, 473-74
actual, 78
of appearances, 261, 264-65
corporeal, 81, 242, 398, 459, 461
empirical, 29, 3/, 314
external, 388
and the I, 442
inner, 265
intelligible, 2 7—50, 260—61, 264, 271,
296-98, 303-5, 314, 350
juridical, 470
material, 419
objective, 79, 319—20
outer, 265
sensible, 181, 261, 271-72, 290, 296-98,
313, 328, 344n, 350, 392, 403, 421,
427’ 448, 456-57’ 461’ 463-64
spiritual, 242, 418-19
supersensible, 261, 315
Zeno of Elea, 398

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publicadon Data
Fichte, Johann Gottlieb, 1762-1814
[Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo, English]
Foundations of transcendental philosophy (Wissenschaftslehre) nova methodo
(1796/99)/Johann Gottlieb Fichte; edited and translated by Daniel Breazeale.
p. cm.
Translation of: Wissenschaftslehre nova methodo.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 0-8014-2767-3 (alk. paper)
1. Philosophy. I. Breazeale, Daniel. II. Title.
B2844.W53E5	1992
193—dc2o
92-52745