John Austin: The Province of Jurisprudence Determined – Sovereignty

Austin’s final lecture should finally proceed to the analysis of positive law. As we have seen, he describes positive law as a commandment by a superior. If the lawgiver itself has a superior in a community, their power of giving laws is derived from this superior actor. Ultimately, all positive law is then dependent on some actor who has no superior in an independent society, that is, a sovereign. Thus, Austin says, he has to characterise the concepts of sovereign and of independent society.

Austin defines a sovereign of a community as such a person or a group of persons that 1) most of that society habitually obeys them and 2) this person or group does not habitually obey any individual or group in that society, although they might occasionally submit to a command of someone. The other members of the society are then said to be subjects of the sovereign.

Austin calls a community consisting of a sovereign and all the people subject to the sovereign an independent political society, although he admits that actually only the sovereign is independent, while all the subjects are dependent. Austin notes that this definition does not mean that the society in question could not be subjected to other societies in a transitory manner. Thus, when the allied forces occupied France, the French nation was still an independent society, since the government of France obeyed the occupiers only in a transitory manner.

Austin emphasises that an independent political society can have only one sovereign. Thus, he argues, a society in a civil war, where one side obeys one government and the other side another is not an independent, political society, although the two sides of the conflict might be.

Austin compares an independent political society, first, with a dependent political society. Such a society is political, because it answers to a common superior, such as a viceroy, but this society is not dependent, because this superior has a further superior and the whole society is then subordinate to another society.

Secondly, Austin compares an independent political society with an independent natural society. In such a society the members interact with one another, but are not part of any political society. Closely related to such a natural society is the society of sovereigns, since although as sovereigns they are part of political societies, in relation to each other they do not form a political society. Thus, Austin concludes, international politics are not regulated by a positive law.

Austin admits that this classification of societies is not perfect. In other words, there are societies that are not independent political societies, subordinate political societies, independent natural societies or societies of sovereigns. Examples of such societies include families within political societies, since they are not themselves political societies, but do not exist in a state of nature.

Austin admits that his definition of an independent political society is not completely precise. It says that the bulk of that society must habitually obey the sovereign, but this leaves still undetermined, what proportion must obey or how often and how long they must do so. Thus, although there are clear cases of independent political societies and clear cases of societies that are not independent or political, there are also some cases which cannot be easily categorised into either categories, such as a society recovering from a civil war or a colony fighting for its independence.

Austin notes also that his definition of an independent society contains an implicit assumption that the society in question is big enough. What the exact size for this “big enough” is cannot be exactly determined, but we can still say that a family living in a state of nature is no political society, although all the family members would obey one person as their superior.

Austin goes on to classify various forms of sovereigns. He has already stated that the sovereign is either a single person or a group of persons. He mentions also the possibility that the whole of the society would govern itself, but discards it as improbable, since society always has people who are unable to govern. Thus, Austin concludes, the government of an independent political society is either a monarchy, with a single individual as a sovereign, or aristocracy, with a group of persons as a sovereign.

Furthermore, Austin continues, aristocracies in this general sense can be divided into oligarchies, with a very small group as a sovereign, aristocracies in the proper sense, with a somewhat larger group as a sovereign, and popular governments or democracies, with a relatively largest group as a sovereign. Yet, he admits, no precise numbers can be assigned to these kinds of aristocracies.

Austin notes that in aristocracies the sovereign may consist of a single homogenous group of individuals or of several groups, some of which might be larger and others smaller. The latter kind has an indefinite number of subdivisions, he remarks, but the only one he considers worthy of consideration is the so-called limited monarchy, where one part of sovereign is an individual person, often titled monarch, although this is not the case of proper monarchy according to Austin’s definition.

Whatever the form of the sovereignty, Austin says, the sovereign can exercise their power through delegates or subordinates representing them. This is often even a necessity, when the size of the society grows so large that the sovereign itself could not govern everything by themselves. An interesting species of such representatives is formed by societies where sovereignty is at least partially with a large part of the populace that elects representatives to rule for them, like in the British system, where the commons vote their representatives to the parliament.

Austin considers the supposed division of sovereign power to legislative and administrative or executive powers. According to his definition of positive law, this division seems meaningless, since many of the powers deemed often executive and also the special judicial power are simply legislative. Thus, Austin concludes, the only definite division of sovereign powers that can be made is that of supreme and subordinate powers.

Austin reflects on the notion of so-called half-sovereign or imperfectly sovereign societies, the prime example of which were supposedly the states in the Holy Roman Empire, which in some sense governed themselves, but had also some political duties toward the Empire. Austin thinks that no such notion is actually required. In some cases such states are simply just nominally independent, in others truly independent (like Prussia). There is a third possibility, Austin admits, where a state, like Bavaria in its relation to the Empire, is partially independent of another state and still has to obey it in some cases, but then the true sovereign is not the government of the first state alone, but this government together with the government of the second state. Furthermore, in a case like Hannover and Great Britain sharing a monarch, the British state was not, according to Austin, imperfectly sovereign over Hannover, but the sovereign of Hannover was part of the sovereign of Great Britain.

Austin points out that in some cases independent political states have united into a composite state, or as he prefers to call it, a supreme federal government: a good example would be the United States. Such a composite state, Austin thinks, forms a single independent political society, but its sovereignty does not lie just in the central government, but is shared by it and the governments of the constituent states. Then again, he insists, this is very different from a system of confederated states, such as the so-called German Confederation following the Holy Roman Empire, where the states remain independent, but they have formed a permanent alliance.

Austin argues that the power of sovereign cannot be legally restricted in its own society, because they are the source of all legal restrictions. Of course, their power can be restricted by divine law or by positive morality, in other words, their actions might be considered unethical or against the common opinion. Furthermore, if a sovereign is a group of persons, the power of a part of this group can be also legally restricted, so that e.g. the king of Britain could be legally punished. Furthermore, he also admits that the sovereign might be legally restricted in another independent political society: for instance, if the British government has assets in a Swiss bank, it must obey Swiss jurisdiction with its interaction with the bank.

In Austin’s opinion, since the sovereign power can never be legally restricted within its own political society, political liberty can mean only the liberty from legal obligation granted by the sovereign. He is also critical of thinkers who extol political liberty as the supreme end of a political society. Instead, he insists, the true end of a political society is the common good, which might in some cases require limiting the political liberty of someone. Indeed, Austin points out, all political liberty requires setting legal limits someone else, for instance, my liberty to travel freely in a country must be guaranteed by the duty of others not to harm me in my travels.

Just like sovereign power has no legal restrictions in its own society, the sovereign also has no legal rights in its own society, Austin thinks. According to him, legal right is something conferred by the sovereign government to an actor in its society, so that respective duties are conferred to other actors. Clearly, he argues, the sovereign cannot hand such rights to themselves, since it already has the legal power to do anything. Of course, the sovereign may still have divine or moral rights. Furthermore, the sovereign can have legal rights in other independent political societies, if such rights are given to it by the legislation of the other society.

The purpose of an independent political society is the common good of its citizens, thus, Austin argues, the cause for its continued existence is that the subjects consider it more useful for the society to obey their sovereign than, for instance, resist its commands. The origin of a political society, on the other hand, could have been of various sorts, Austin conjectures, but one element of its generation has to have been that the majority of its subjects have thought its existence to be generally useful. Yet, he is adamantly against the idea of a so-called social contract, which is not just clearly a fiction for historical reasons, but also suggests the erroneous idea that the political society would be based on a consent of people in the natural state, when no such consent would form a legal contract in a state with no political society, and indeed, would not obligate the sovereign in any manner.

John Austin: The Province of Jurisprudence Determined – Positive morality

Austin’s next task is to set out what distinguishes proper laws from laws that are merely analogous or metaphorical. He notes that the words analogy and metaphor mean strictly speaking the same: analogical or metaphorical is not literally the same, but resembles the original somehow. Yet, he adds, usually metaphorical is understood as bearing a smaller resemblance than analogous. Thus, he will also differentiate between laws closely analogous to proper laws and metaphorical or figurative laws.

Austin now ignores the metaphorical laws and divides the proper laws, together with closely analogous laws, into three main categories. First is the already well defined divine law. Second is the positive law, which Austin thinks was given by humans as political superiors or as private persons pursuing their legal rights to other human beings. Other proper laws given by a human being to other humans belong to the final, third class, which also contains closely analogous laws that are mere opinions held by human beings about human conduct. Austin considers calling this third class morality, but because the divine law can also be called morality, he finally suggests the name positive morality.

Austin explains the relation of the three classes by stating that the divine law works as a criterion for the positive law and the positive morality: divine law states what the positive law and the positive morality ought to be. Yet, he also notes, this cannot really be the full truth, since atheists can also make evaluations of positive laws, although they do not believe in any divine law. Furthermore, Austin points out that we could think of the possibility that the divine law might be bad. Thus, he concludes, the true criterion must be the principle of general utility that could be used by atheists and also for determining that the divine law is good.

Austin also notes in passing that he has used the phrase “natural law” in two senses, firstly, as another name for the divine law, and secondly, as indicating the portion of the positive law that according to the mixed hypothesis assuming both utilitarianism and moral sense as criteria of morality holds universally in all humankind. Although the similarity of the two names is apt to produce confusion, according to Austin, there is a reason for the similarity, because the latter natural law is produced as an image of the divine natural law through the means of the moral sense.

Returning to the task of explaining the class of positive morality, Austin first considers the proper laws in that class. Such proper laws should be, according to his own definition, commands instituted by some determinate individuals or groups of individuals, with the danger of a sanction if that command is not followed. Yet, as this is not the case of positive law, the commanding agent should not be a political superior or a private individual pursuing legal rights. Thus, Austin explains, commands in a state of anarchy belong to this class. Another example are commands instigated by leaders of states not toward their subjects, but e.g. toward leaders of other states.

Some commands of private persons are also proper laws that are part of positive morality, Austin states, yet, not all of them. The commands not belonging to this class, he explains, are such that are made by individuals pursuing their legal rights, such as commands made by guardians to their wards and masters to their slaves. Such commands, Austin thinks, are actually part of positive law. On the other hand, the commands belonging to the positive morality, he explains, include commands of parents toward children, of masters toward servants and of lenders toward borrowers. A further interesting example is that of a club instituting rules for its members.

Moving on to improper laws of positive morality, Austin notes that this class consists of laws set by general opinion of some indeterminate group of persons. The important point here is, according to him, that the group of people is indeterminate and cannot thus really issue any commands nor can there be any definite threat of a sanction for breaking this general opinion. Still, Austin points out, there is an implicit threat of a general opinion turning against anyone breaking such uncommanded moral rules, which makes human behaviour of e.g. a certain culture predictable.

Austin points out that one still has to define what is meant by a group of people being determinate or indeterminate. He notes that there are two cases of determinate groups of individuals. In the first case, the group consists of persons, each of which can be designated by some specific description and each of which belong to this group due to this specific reason. An example of such a determinate group, Austin explains, is a company with specific individuals as its owners.

In the second case, Austin continues, the group consists of all the persons of one or more generic descriptions, who belong to this class because of these general characteristics. An example of such a group, he says, is British Parliament, which comprises the British monarch and all the members of the upper and lower houses, all of whom are members of parliament not as specific individuals, but as e.g. members of lower house and could thus be replaced by other individuals, for instance, through voting.

The common feature of both these cases is that all the members of such a determinate group can be definitely indicated. On the contrary, members of an indeterminate group cannot be definitely indicated. Thus, for instance, when we speak of a general opinion of a certain class of people, we do not know which of them exactly have this opinion, only that most of them do have it.

Having now separated the divine law, the positive law and the positive morality, Austin makes the remark that these three might coincide, but sometimes do not, while in some cases they might even conflict. Thus, all the three laws coincide with murders, since they all forbid it. On the other hand, the positive law forbids smuggling, but positive morality or the opinions of some persons might not think it is necessarily forbidden. The laws conflict, if one of them forbids what the other commands, for instance, when positive law forbids dueling, but the positive morality of a certain culture takes it as a necessity in certain cases.

Austin proceeds to metaphorical extension of the notion of law, which he has already suggested as made because of similarity in the uniformity of behaviour in case of people following laws and cultural norms on the one hand and e.g. astronomical objects and animals on the other. Such metaphorical laws are far from proper laws, he says, because there is no question of, for instance, planets being commanded to follow a certain course and being punished if they don’t. The indication of this difference is important, Austin explains, because other writers have explicitly confused them.

John Austin: The Province of Jurisprudence Determined – Moral sense

Austin seems convinced that the impossibility of ever perfectly becoming aware of the divine law through utilitarianism is a fault that seems inconsistent with the supposed goodness of God. One might object that it is quite enough that we can still indefinitely improve our ethical understanding, but this is not the strategy Austin takes. Instead, he suggests that this inconsistency is just a fact in any system of ethics: perfect humans would require no divine commands, but would act perfectly. In other words, Austin suggests, we live in an imperfect world and this is just a conundrum that exceeds our capacities of reasoning.

Austin’s second strategy is to point out that the only alternative to utilitarianism is the theory of moral sense, according to which we do not need to calculate whether our actions are good, but we have immediate or instinctual feelings of what actions are good and what not. This division of possible theories of moral criterion seems reminiscent of the juxtaposition of deliberative morality with the subjective certainty of conscience in Hegel’s Phenomenology, but this is probably just a coincidence.

According to the theory of moral sense, Austin explains, an uneducated Kaspar Hauser would have different feelings, if he killed a person for stealing their food or if he killed them in self-defence, being thus aware without anyone telling it that the former is a bad thing, while the latter is not. Furthermore, this theory assumes that these feelings are implanted by God, as a tool for understanding divine commands. Thus, if this theory were right, we would always know what is the right course of action, although our will might be too weak to realise these actions.

Austin notes that we can dispute the theory of moral sense, and this possibility makes it very suspect, since this supposed moral sense is then not like a feeling of hunger we cannot really doubt. Furthermore, he points out, our moral judgements are often not immediate, but we hesitate on what is the correct course of action. In fact, Austin adds, even if our moral judgement would be immediate, it still might not be instinctual, but just a sign of an ingrained habit to think something as bad.

Austin also makes the obvious objection that different people have had different ideas about what constitutes good and bad action. Yet, he at once adds that this is not a perfect objection against the existence of moral sense, since we do not know if God might have had reasons for giving different moral senses for different persons, so that what would be good for one might be bad for another. Even so, Austin finds utilitarianism a more convincing explanation, since it explains the diversity of moral judgements, since people have different ideas about what is useful, but also gives hope for finding some common ground in moral reasoning.

Austin mentions also a third possibility, which is essentially a combination of utilitarianism and the theory of moral sense, stating that moral sense is a criterion of some divine commands and utilitarianism of others. He notes that although this third hypothesis is more compatible with the diversity of moral judgements, it still faces the objection that there seems to be no moral question, of which all human beings would agree with each other. Yet, Austin finds the theory interesting, because it is the only hypothesis justifying the usual division of law into positive and natural law, natural law being grounded in moral sense and thus universal to all humans, and positive law being grounded in utilitarianism and thus varying from one culture to another.

Austin ends his account of the divine law with a few further ways to misunderstand utilitarianism. First of them involves taking utilitarianism not as the criterion, but as the motive of our actions. Austin underlines that the criterion of utilitarianism or the general good of humankind is no abstraction beyond individuals, but simply the sum of the joys of individual humans. According to him, the best person to decide what makes an individual happy is that very individual. Thus, Austin concludes, utilitarianism demands that the motive of the actions of an individual should not be any abstract general good, but their own advantage. He admits that this general principle is not without exceptions and that a person must sometimes put the interest of others ahead of their own interest, but even then it is usually people they know such as their own family that must be helped.

The second mistake that Austin considers is to confuse utilitarianism with the so-called selfish system. Indeed, he adds this mistake is often connected with the additional misreading of the selfish system itself: while this system states that human benevolence has been generated from an original self-love, it is read as denying the existence of benevolence. In any case, Austin concludes, utilitarianism is no theory on motives of human actions and is thus compatible both with the existence of independent feelings of benevolence or the reduction of benevolence to self-love.

John Austin: The Province of Jurisprudence Determined – The limits of utilitarianism

Although Austin advocates utilitarianism in case of determining the commands of divinity, he is aware of its limits, which are ultimately the limits of the human mind. In other words, there are numerous possible cases to consider and no single person can ever determine the proper course of action for all of them, and indeed, most people have never enough time to determine even the most central duties.

Austin’s answer is that this problem is actually common to all sciences. For instance, no single person can find out all the truths of mathematics, but these have been revealed bit by bit by different mathematicians. Indeed, even nowadays no one knows everything in mathematics perfectly and even the mathematicians must rely on the authority of other mathematicians to be convinced of such mathematical truths they have not had the opportunity to study themselves.

Austin admits that the case of ethical studies is still somewhat different from other sciences, because there are not that many impartial persons researching ethics, but essays on ethics are often marred by personal interests or by adherence to unreasoned customs. Because of this, no reliable consensus has been reached and thus there is as yet no ethical authority to follow.

Yet, Austin sees this lack more as a temporary impediment than as a permanent obstacle for the development of ethics. Indeed, he is certain that there is an extensive consensus at least of the basic principles of ethics. Austin even suggests that anyone could by now learn these principles and thus develop a trust on the authority of professional ethicists applying these principles to practice: he gives a somewhat hopeful example that the poor will completely stop thieving, once they have understood that the institution of private property is good for the whole society. In any case, Austin insists, the more the utilitarian principles will spread among the populace, the more people there will be to do proper scientific ethics.

A faultless system of ethics can never be found, Austin says. Still, we as a society can at least improve our understanding of ethics and come more and more closer this system and full knowledge of God’s commands.

John Austin: The Province of Jurisprudence Determined – Divine law

After determining the general definition of law or rule, Austin proceeds to distinguish human made law from divine law. As one might expect, he characterises the divine law as decreed by God. Duties toward divine law are then religious duties and violations of those duties are sins. Like all violations, sins lead to sanctions – religious sanctions – which God should inflict in this life or in the life beyond.

Austin divides divine law into revealed law and unrevealed law. Revealed law should be based on the express commands of God. Then again, unrevealed law, although given by God, should not be based on their express command. In fact, Austin says, unrevealed divine law is what is often called natural law and should be followed by all human beings, no matter whether they have heard divine commands. The problem is, how human beings become aware of the unrevealed divine law.

Austin thinks there are only two theories for the criterion of the unrevealed divine law. First of these theories, he says, states that all human beings have universal sentiments for approving certain actions and disapproving others. This moral feeling or conscience is, according to this theory, given to humans by God, for the purpose of discerning what God has commanded.

The other theory, Austin continues, is that the natural law must be discovered through reason, with the aid of the principle of general utility. Austin is here basing utilitarianism in the benevolence of God, who wants the happiness of all sentient creatures and has thus decreed that they should do things increasing general happiness and avoid things decreasing it.

Austin explains that the principle of general utility is meant to be applied to general tendencies: what would be the result for the general happiness of humankind, if an act of certain kind would be generally done or avoided? Thus, although an action would as such increase the happiness of humankind – say, when a poor person steals something from a rich person, who doesn’t even notice the theft – the action would still be forbidden, because universal permission of thievery would make the whole institution of property impossible. On the other hand, although punishment as an individual action is detrimental to human happiness, it is useful as a foundation of a general system of laws. Hence, Austin concludes, God’s commands are, for the most part, general rules that are to be followed with no exception.

Austin notes a common objection to utilitarianism: if we really had to make precise calculations whether an action contributed to the general happiness of humanity, we would never have time to act, since such deliberation would be too difficult. Austin answers, firstly, by noting that if we do not have any immediate moral sense, as suggested by the first theory, this deliberation is our only possibility to find out the divine commands. Secondly, he notes that the deliberation is meant only for testing general rules of action, which can then be applied without a moment’s notice. Furthermore, Austin adds, we do have sentiments for these rules – for instance, we hate thievery – which provide immediate motives for our actions.

Austin admits that in some cases the general rules do not show us the best course of action. For instance, it is usually beneficial to follow one’s government, since anarchy is so detrimental to human happiness. Yet, in some cases the government itself might be of so great detriment to the happiness of its subjects that a revolution is in order. In such a case, Austin concedes, a deliberation about this specific action must weigh more than a deliberation about the general rule. In these cases the deliberation would take time, as supposed by the objection against the utilitarianism, but Austin considers this good, since one should not lightly act against general rules.

John Austin: The Province of Jurisprudence Determined (1832)

(1790–1859)

John Austin belonged to the utilitarian circle of Jeremy Bentham and James Mill. His field of study was jurisprudence, evidenced especially in his main work, The Province of Jurisprudence Determined.

The purpose of Austin’s book is to define the topic of jurisprudence, which he preliminarily determines as positive law. In other words, he tries to demarcate this positive law from other topics resembling and often confused with it. This means, firstly, distinguishing positive law from the other division of law, which Austin names divine law. While the divine law is given by God to human beings, positive law is given by human beings to other human beings, and usually by so-called rulers to their subjects. Furthermore, Austin distinguishes positive law from moral rules, which are also given by human beings to other human beings, but are not laws in the proper sense of the word – Austin calls the set of such rules the positive morality. Finally, Austin points out that there is a fourth kind of so-called laws, which are laws only metaphorically, such as the laws of animals, by which are only meant regularities of animal behaviour.

Austin’s method is to, firstly, define what we generally mean by law. After that, he aims to find the basic characteristics of divine law, in contrast with the positive law. Finally, he will characterise the difference of law and morality and the mere metaphorical use of the word law.

Austin characterises law as a kind of a command. Then again, he defines command as an explicit or implicit expression of a wish or a desire with the suggestion that the refusal to not fulfill this wish will result in something evil. Such a suggestion of evil makes the receiver of the command obliged or bound by duty to obey the command: a rather severe understanding of duty, since a fellow pointing a rifle at me obligates me then to do something. Austin goes even so far as to suggest that nothing can be a duty, if it does not correspond to some command.

The evil inflicted for the disobeying of the command Austin calls a sanction, which includes what are usually called punishments, although not all sanctions are punishments in the proper sense of the word. Austin carefully points out that the sanction in question need not be a strong one: indeed, otherwise it would not make sense why anyone would want to violate a command. Furthermore, he notes that rewards do not create in this manner obligations or duties, although they might provide an incentive to do something.

Austin divides commands into laws or rules and what he calls occasional or particular commands. The point of the division is that in the case of laws or rules the command is directed generally to a class of cases. Thus, commanding a servant to do a particular errand today is not a law or rule, but to order them to do such an errand everyday is a rule. Similarly, when a parliament declares all thieves to be hanged, this is a law, but when a judge orders a specific thief to be hanged, this is not a law. Austin admits that this division does not completely agree with the general usage of the words, and indeed, that some particular commands of Parliament have been called laws.

Austin suggests that laws, and indeed, all commands are given by superiors and obligate inferiors. This superiority means, he explains, simply power – a superior person has the capacity to inflict some evil upon the inferior person. In the case of God, Austin thinks, this superiority is absolute, but in many other cases it is just relative: for instance, a monarch has a power to rule their subjects within certain limits, but if the monarch breaks these limits, the subjects also have the power to revolt against the monarch.

Austin’s definition of law explicitly distinguishes law from morality, since moral rules are not imposed by superiors, although morality does have something analogous to obligations toward law and sanctions for breaking it. Even more so, the definition distinguishes mere metaphorical laws from proper laws. More interestingly, Austin points out that it also separates laws from other things often called laws, which do form a part of jurisprudence. First type of these Austin calls declaratory laws, which are not so much commands, but explanations and interpretations of what duties commands impose. Second type is that of permissive laws, which revoke certain formerly imposed laws. The third and final type is that of imperfect laws, which lack a sanction.

Austin notes that some true laws might not seem to be commands, although on a further inspection they are. First case is that of laws creating rights. Austin states that every right of someone is correlated with a duty of someone else, thus, a law creating a right for someone imposes a duty to someone else. Second case is that of so-called customary laws, based on the habit of people obeying them. Austin notes that as long as no one really adds a sanction to these customs, they are not proper laws, but whenever a judge bases a decision on such a customary law, it becomes a proper law.

Immanuel Hermann Fichte: Outline of a system of philosophy. Second division: Ontology – Interaction

According to Fichte, the stage of ontology he has reached contains the highest relational concepts, but also the truth and solution of all the earlier dialectical problems. In other words, he explains, all the previous main concepts receive here their final, completing expression. Conversely, Fichte adds, this result has already been anticipated earlier, since, for instance, the level of causality showed many instances of the result, which he identifies with the category of reciprocal interaction (Wechselwirkung). Indeed, he points out, we have for a long time seen that individuals are intimately connected with one another and that this interconnectedness of an infinity of individuals was based on an absolute unity compassing everything. Yet, Fichte notes, these two moments have not before this been related with necessity, so that we would have seen how infinity of related individuals required in itself the absolute unity, which would then contain the former infinity. This has been done, he thinks, for the first time at this point, leading us then explicitly to the concept of interaction.

Despite this, Fichte admits, the transition from infinity to unity was already anticipated, when we noted that finite causal relations had to be based on the concept of absolute, which was first regarded as a law governing all these causal interactions and then developed into positing of absolute purpose for a system of means and purposes. The result of this development, he repeats, is that individuals are thinkable only in an infinity that is ordered into a system of individuals reflecting this infinity. Such a system of individuals, each of which is both a purpose and means to others, Fichte suggests, should be called an organism.

Organism, Fichte begins, is in general a system or totality and thus resembles the stage of monads. The difference is, he explains, that organism is specifically a system of purposes and means. Now, Fichte continues, the concept of purpose contained the contradiction that it can be generated only through its means and that it still must act before its means. This contradiction drove us to the concept of organism, and indeed, Fichte notes, in organism the system of means simply brings about just its purpose. In other words, he explains, organic process is a purposeful activity determined uniquely in all its moments by a not yet existing purpose. On the basis of this organic activity, Fichte thinks,  lies an ideal and not actualised model that comprehends all the separate parts of the organism in a substantial unity. Thus, the concept of organism completes, in addition to the category of purpose, also the categories of substance and monad.

Earlier, Fichte recalls, the substantial unity was the real possibility or ideal totality of distinctions or individual actualisations, but it still remained indifferent, how this unity actualised itself in individuals, since any individual could as well be replaced by another individual from this totality of possible options. He notes that this was a conceptual step forward in comparison with abstract necessity, but this indifference of actualisation was still a gap to be filled. The solution, as Fichte sees it, was the concept of purposefulness: the individual actualisation is not posited by mechanical necessity, but it is also not indifferent to its unity or contingent, and instead, the individual is connected to the unity by being purposeful. Substantial unity or monad has thus become an organism, where individual moments are purposes and means to each other and realise in their interaction as their absolute purpose this ideal totality or the model of organic activity that corresponds to and is present everywhere in this system of independent, but related parts or organic body.

Fichte notes that in the organism the conflict between the fact that means exist before the purpose and the fact that means exist only for the purpose has not vanished, but confirmed. In other words, he explains, the individual parts of organism realising the organic unity are each of them relative totalities or organic unities that divide again into other similarly organised parts in infinity. Fichte refers to the proposition that the organic or living is not just divisible in infinity, but is actually divided into internal, qualitative infinity, but also immediately overcome through the organic process in the unity of purpose mediating everything. The goal of the organic process is then realised only through this process, but is also its beginning as an exemplary model.

The organism as the absolute or highest purpose generates then itself from its means, or as Fichte also puts it, the organism subdues the previously given conditions, appropriates them to itself and quenching their own determination imposes at them its own character, in order to renew and preserve itself from this transformation. This is, he notes, a description of reproduction and assimilation. Organic processes are, Fichte says, absolutely powerful toward all shapes of lower existence, that is, those characterised only by the previous categories, which might be purposes in themselves, but in relation to the organism are mere means in an organic process. Organism is thus revealed as the final cause in the hierarchy of purposes, realising itself in the lower causal or mechanical and chemical relations, which are then essential moments in the total organism.

The organism is at first, Fichte states, a living individual that imposes its uniqueness on its preconditions and thus confers external actuality or body to its organic Ur-model. All other individual determinations, he explains, are only elements serving the self-preservation of a living individual, Fichte continues, but just like individuals in the previous stages, the individual life is driven beyond itself to relation toward others, and in this case, to other living individuals. Regarding its body, he notes, the living individual is open to the subordinate causal relations and is interwoven in the external course of causes and effects. Similarly, the elements of its body form a complex of specific forces, Fichte adds, and without the organising unity, these forces enter immediately into other chemical combinations. Yet, he insists, neither the mechanism of the body nor the chemical relation of its elements correspond to the relation of living individuals toward one another. Instead, Fichte emphasises, this relation must incorporate the relation of means and purposes: the living individuals must mutually complement each other in order to generate from themselves another living individual as their common purpose, which describes the process of generation.

The result or purpose of the process of generation is itself a living individual, Fichte emphasises, but can still be not the true purpose beyond organic life. Thus, he explains, it must again become means in the same sense as the previous members were, renewing the process of generation in external infinity. Concept of life merely can then get no further than self-preservation of individuals and genus.

Just like at all previous stages, the relation of an individual to another individual points to a comprehensive infinity. Thus, Fichte concludes, the living individual and the genus of life would stop being living, if they were not members of an infinite series of organisms, in each of which the absolute purpose is realised in a completely unique manner, or of a total organism which encompasses everything and where each member is an essential condition for all other life and also means and purpose for everything. This means, he explains, that the individual does not live merely in itself, but is sustained by a common element of all-life. Fichte assures the reader that living individuals are not absorbed in the all-life, but the all-life ensures to the individuals their existence, since individuals are not just indifferent realisations to the all-life, but all-life realises itself in each individual in a unique manner appropriate only for this particular individual.

Fichte has thus found a new description for the essence of absolute: it is an activity of positing an absolute end goal to a harmonious system of an infinity of purposes and means forming a living organism comprehending everything. In effect, Fichte is presenting a new variation of the old teleological proof, suggesting the existence of a principle harmonising the whole universe or an ideal model of the world organism. Yet, he notes, there still remains the contradiction that this Urbild of the world is actualised only through the infinite organic course of the world, but should also exist eternally. This contradiction is just heightened repetition of the contradiction involved in all life, Fichte emphasises, but it drives us further to explain how such a model could exist before an actual organism.

What Fichte needs is a model that in a sense exists in the organism, but in another sense not and that is evenly present in all the parts of the organism, although no individual part can fully actualise it. He latches on to the notion of soul as sensing (Empfinden) of itself in the other and of the other in itself. The just described problem has now found its solution, Fichte thinks, since the non-actual model of organism can still pre-exist ideally in the sensation. He compares this concept of sensing with the usual notion of instinct as a state where we immediately go into ourselves and let ourselves be guided by something that does not yet exist. Following this analogy, Fichte emphasises that all relations to the other are present to the soul here only in a semiconscious manner, as a deeply purposeful certainty of feeling and acting, but not as an express representation, and similarly, it can not sense itself in full clarity.

The model of the organism has become an internal sensing of manifoldness in itself or soul, Fichte summarises, and thus is the beginning and the final goal of organic activity. It is the absolute purpose of all organisms to serve the soul, not in order to generate the soul, because the soul more likely generates itself. Since the soul posseses itself in the whole manifoldness of its perceptions, Fichte explains, it becomes self-sensation, but this self can become sensible to it only in its relation to others. In other word, he emphasises, sensation of self and sensation of world are inseparable, and this immediate relation of soul to other or sensibility is then the second fundamental determination of soul after self-sensation. Fichte compares sensibility of the soul with passivity of the monad and notes that similarly sensation of something else must be linked to a self-determined reaction or irritability as the third moment in the concept of soul. Thus, he points out, the soul is not just withdrawn to pure impenetrable internality from the external course of cause and effects, but has also the capacity to begin causal series from itself. These three moments of the soul, Fichte adds, are connected also with the reproductive and generative processes of the organic body.

The soul is still only a purpose in an organism, Fichte underlines, but does not yet itself posit purposes. In other words, he clarifies, the soul is purposeful, but not aware of its innermost purpose. The internal purposefulness of the organism of the world has thus strengthened into an internal reasonableness of activity, but only in an instinctual manner and not yet into a consciousness of freely chosen purpose. Hence, Fichte thinks, we are once again driven from individual sensing and acting souls into something that posits their absolute purpose as a world plan harmonising everything. This means thinking the absolute as a world soul. Fichte admits that this is a more satisfying notion of absolute than the world organism, since the former makes at least the notion of the Urbild of the world more comprehensible as an instinctual grasping of the world plan by the world soul, which then shapes the world in a dreamlike fashion or unconsciously.

According to Fichte, such a notion of absolute is unsatisfying and indefensible, because it stays undecided in the middle between the lower and higher categories. The idea of world soul, he says, just repeats the familiar contradiction that the absolute should posit the purpose of the world, because it orders all the individuals of the world toward a common goal, but does not posit this purpose, because it should still be unconscious of this order and this goal.

The concept of world soul transitions then into a higher notion, Fichte explains, where the absolute is abstract spirituality that infinitely thinks of purposes and means in things. Such an ideal cosmos of thoughts should then as absolute be, he notes, thinking that is at the same time actualising what is thought. This rather Hegelian absolute thought becomes therefore something else by necessarily separating the world from itself, but because it is still thinking, it should recognise and know just itself in the world, thus returning from separation and isolation back to itself.

It is no wonder that Fichte also finds this concept lacking, because it is abstract and, according to him, contradictory. From the Hegelian standpoint, the individual is just finite and a mere moment in the infinite process of thinking, while for Fichte the individual is always a specific Ur-position and thus internally infinite. Thus, while Hegelian abstract thinking as an infinite subjectivity is in a sense individual, because it orders itself into a system of concrete thoughts, it is not an individual unity grasping in itself the whole infinity of the world.

Absolute thinking still requires something that drives it over mere universality, Fichte concludes and identifies this required element with the act of generating itself from its own real possibility. In other words, he emphasises, willing is what makes mere thinking into Geist or spirit and what makes absolute into a unified personality, because thinking can be understood abstractly, while willing can only be thought as linked to a self-determining substantial unity.

Fichte instantly declares spirit as the highest category, mediating all earlier categories. Summarising the development thus far, he points out that the ontological study of actuality had revealed a tension between the unified Ur-determinations and their manifold and varying characteristics, which was mediated by the concept of self-actualisation, where unity posits a manifold of determinations that return to the unity as their basis. This fundamental concept of actuality was then connected to the second fundamental concept of an infinity of relations between individuals and finally to the third fundamental concept of all compassing absolute. This threefold set of relations, Fichte recounts, was developed through various causal relations to a relation of purposefulness and then through the notions of organism and soul to the final concept of spirit.

As the final concept, Fichte insists, spirit must solve the contradiction or problem of how an individual can be both based on itself and its own uniqueness, but also always in relation to something else. The solution is, he explains, that a spirit is a self-realising individuality knowing itself in this self-creative act, but this self-knowing can develop only through knowing something else. Spirit, Fichte states, has replaced the instinctual self-sensation of soul as consciousness that is certain of itself in all its distinctions.

What makes the spirit, like everything actual, into individual, Fichte explains, is the concept of self-actualisation. Spirit should thus be no abstract universality, he declares, or spirit is actual only as a person. In other words, Fichte insists, free self-determination is not just an individual property of personality, but its fundamental element, and in its power to choose or posit purposes freely, it is conscious of both itself and of something else, namely, the purpose. Hence, he notes, thinking and willing are inseparable, and the willing is the substantial or the fundamental essence of an individual spirit, while thinking is only a property of this essence.

Fichte emphasises that the self-actualising act of personality is possible only in relation to other personalities or that reciprocal interaction holds even between spirits. This is true, he notes, even of absolute personality, whereby God must differentiate itself from the created infinity and Fichtean philosophy must be separated from pantheism. Absolute personality, Fichte summarises, must be infinitely creative.

Just like a monad posited distinctions that it then merged into its unity, Fichte argues, the same should hold also of an individual spirit. Thus, spirit is the free power to be this or its opposite, and the two possibilities exist in the spirit ideally. In other words, Fichte underlines, spirit is free in two sense, that is, firstly, as a self-creative act it has positive freedom, and secondly, as not restricted by any of the individual possibilities it could choose from it has negative freedom. Spirit is hence able to withdraw itself from the causal course of things and posit a new causal series, subduing the causality to its own purposes.

Fichte points out that the capacity of subduing causality connects spirit to earlier categories. This means, firstly, that spirit as the final ontological category is the highest actuality and the proper goal of all preceding. Yet, Fichte adds, we will also discern a hierarchy within spirits, leading us finally beyond ontology.

Secondly, Fichte continues, spirit also assumes the former shapes of existence as moments of its own actuality. Similarly, he reminds the reader, individual organisms surpassed all mechanical and chemical causality, but also acted through such causal relations, and on a higher level, an individual soul had to have an organic body. In the same fashion, Fichte states, an individual spirit can be self-conscious only through an organic body and a sensing soul. More particularly, he points out, the moments of sensibility and irritability in the soul receive here new characteristics, sensibility becoming in spirit knowing and irritability respectively conscious self-decision, while the vague self-feeling that mediated both in the soul is replaced by self-consciousness of spirit.

Just like an individual organism could be thought only as a moment in a system of organisms and an individual soul only in a totality of souls, Fichte argues, a personal spirit presupposes also a community of personalities or a spiritual universe, in which the spirits create through their free interaction a world of freedom or history. He muses how each spirit acts completely in its own, but all these actions intertwine into a harmonious unity, realising an absolute purpose. Fichte considers this the final contradiction that the ontology has to solve: how can spirits act independently and still serve something else or the purpose of the world?

Fichte note that the conclusive solution of this contradiction has been prepared in the development of the ontology. Thus, he begins, the infinite organism of the world was comprehended in the unity of an eternal model or Urbild, containing timelessly or ideally the actual events of the world. This eternal model was then understood as contained in an instinctual sensation of the world soul, but this unconscious reason had to still be clarified into a transparency of knowledge. The final step, Fichte concludes, was to complement the notion of absolute thinking with that of willing, in order to avoid the pitfall of abstract pantheism.

The result of this development is, Fichte summarises, that the Urbild of the world is something eternally created by the absolute in the same act of creating the infinity of the world, as a sort of collected unity of this infinity. Expressing this differently, he suggests that the consciousness of everything cannot be thought of, except as a unified self-consciousness that is reflected in each part of the infinite world.

Consciousness of an infinite world is then preceded by an original self-consciousness, although conceptually, Fichte clarifies, not temporally. Conversely, as we have seen, he reminds us, self-consciousness is possible only in distinction from something else, which is then the infinite world. This original self-consciousness is then, Fichte declares, the person of God that views the unity of the world or its absolute purpose and actualises it through a free self-determining act. The person of God is then united with the created personalities and both establishes their freedom, preserving their individuality, and also mediates their freedom into unity, steering the conflict of spirits into a harmonious whole. Fichte admits that this mediation creates further problems, solution of which is then the task of speculative theology.

Looking back at the course of the whole philosophy, Fichte suggests that the theory of knowledge formed a sort of new version of the ontological proof, justifying the existence of an absolute mediating all separation between being and consciousness. This result opened up a new problem on how to characterise this absolute, especially in its relation to the given existence of finite. This problem required the dialectical thinking of the ontology, the first part of which could then be seen as a version of cosmological proof, showing that absolute must be a unified essence of the seemingly finite, while the second part was then a version of teleological proof, arguing that this essence must be a personal spirit assigning purpose to the world.

The ontology proper has now been finished, Fichte notes, and the only remaining task is to point out what in the concept of absolute spirit is left to do for the next part of philosophy or the speculative theology. The absolute is, he begins, the Ur-ground and therefore posits the quantities of space and time and also fills them with infinite Ur-determinations. On the other hand, as a person the absolute unites these distinctions in the spiritual unity of all-consciousness, which still does not cancel the independent existence of these determinations.

The absolute or God is then both an individual unity and infinite allness, gathering the infinity into its spiritual unity, but not cancelling it. Yet, Fichte adds, this infinity is God only through self-actualisation or it is a self-determining capacity infinitely actualising itself and also collecting this infinity into the unity of a power mediating everything. Furthermore, this self-actualisation is not just a result of abstract omnipotence, but of self-conscious will, and only through such all-will can God become all-consciousness. The three moments of God, or being, will and consciousness, Fichte states, form one absolute, where the will as the innermost middle point of God unites the objective being of God with the subjective consciousness of God.

God is thus distinguished from created personalities, Fichte suggests, by being only spirit and not requiring an organic body or a soul. Created spirits, on the other hand, as created, live only in a determined limitation by one another, which is the obscure fate that ties them to the conditions of finity and thus makes them connected to an individual body and a sensing soul. On the contrary, the subject of God transparently penetrates everything objective that it has itself willed, thus, God does not require mere instinctual sensing characteristic to soul. In addition, the analogue of the body in God, which Fichte identifies as the infinity of God in creation, is merely the transparent actualisation of God’s will.

Fichte notes also that God alone is in the proper sense of the word free, because the infinity of the world exists through God’s will, which is free of any conditions, while all creatures have only an imparted and therefore conditional existence. Yet, he adds at once, even the creatures are not bound by external necessity or compulsion, but develop freely through their innermost character that also ties them to God.

The act of God’s will that is filled with absolute consciousness and that posits and realises an infinite purpose is, Fichte concludes, creation, which is also the concept that ends the ontology. Creation solves all the ontological contradictions and extinguishes therefore negative dialectics, he adds, but it also generates a new task. The infinitely creative will posits a purpose and actualises itself according to it in a hierarchy of purposeful systems. Each level of this hierarchy, Fichte imagines, manifests in different measures the absolute purpose of God or the world plan. These different levels of creation need still to be developed, he insists, and this task belongs to speculative theology, which is supposed to analyse the concept of divine creation and thus turn into a speculative knowledge of God’s properties in revelation. In addition, according to Fichte, it will also be a study of ideas or principles of all actuality in God’s creative will. The method of speculative theology cannot anymore be negative or based on contradictions, since the concept of creative God is supposed to solve all contradictions. Instead, it is to apply what Fichte calls positive dialectics that deepens and develops the richness inherent in this concept.