Bernard Bolzano: Study of science – Intuitions and concepts

Still going on with the study of the characteristics of representations, Bolzano notes that most of the representations relate to an object and underlines that this relating is different from a proposition, where a representation or a characteristic is related to an object – this is asserting something of the object. Representations with objects or objective representations, he continues, have an extension or a sphere of objects to which they relate to, and these objects and any incomplete collection of them is said to belong to this extension. Bolzano notes that the set of these objects has a magnitude, which can be infinite. The existence and magnitude of the extension can depend on contingent matters, like the representation of the sons of Chingish Khan, but Bolzano thinks it is permanent – even a representation like “all the people living now”, since the phrase “now” fixes this particular representation to this particular point in time. Some representations, he continues , have no objects, such as nothing, round square of golden mountain. Some representations, which Bolzano calls singular representations, relate only to a single object (for instance, universe), while others relate to a finite number of objects (e.g. all the propositions in Euclid’s book of geometry).

Bolzano points out that a representation can have more parts than required for referring to its objects, for instance, a representation of a triangle that is both equiangular and equilateral. An interesting case he considers are the representations of the form “this A”: the A is superfluous, because “this” already refers to the object in question perfectly and the determining A is merely used to simplify the identification of “this” for humans. Although the notion of superfluous parts has been first defined only for representations with objects, Bolzano finds a clever way to extend it to representations with no objects, like round and angular quadrangle: we can say that some parts in such a representation are superfluous if always when we change some other parts of it and the result refers to an object, the parts in question are superfluous in the original sense.

Bolzano notes that complex representations can be contradictory in the sense that they are of the form “A that is also P”, where A implies M and P implies not-M (e.g. triangle with four sides). Such contradictory representations, he continues, have sometimes been called empty, impossible or imaginary, but these names have some room for confusion. Firstly, Bolzano explains, emptiness in this case does not refer to the content of the representation, but to its empty extension – it has no objects. Then again, he notes that there are in this sense empty representations that are not contradictory (just think of a golden mountain).

Secondly, representations as such cannot be necessary, actual or possible, since they do not exist, and not even impossible in the sense that they would otherwise be able to exist, but something hinders their existence. Such modal terms, Bolzano thinks, concern our capacity to find objects for the representations, but again, some non-contradictory representations are impossible in this sense.

Finally, he concludes, representations in themselves are never just imaginations, but we can say that contradictory representations are imaginary, because their objects can never be found outside our thoughts in existence. All other representations can then be called real, but this does not mean they have objects, because some non-contradictory representations do not have them. In any case, only complex representations can be imaginary, which implies that simple representations are always real. Furthermore, Bolzano states, imaginary representations can be parts of real representations, like in the case of a representation of a mathematician who first thought of the square root of –1.

Bolzano presents the intriguing question whether simple representations can ever be singular. At first sight, it seems apparent that limiting a representation down to one individual requires always adding new determinations. Yet, Bolzano answers, we do have simple and singular subjective representations, when we attend to immediate sensations produced by external objects for instance, for instance, when seeing a rose, we say “this is red”, “this” is a simple, singular representation. Corresponding to these subjective representations, there must be corresponding simple and individual representations in themselves, which Bolzano calls intuitions.

Another important subtype of representations, beside intuitions, Bolzano thinks, is formed by concepts. Concepts, he defines, are representations that are not intuitions and have no intuition as their part: examples include something, which refers to an infinity of objects and has no intuition as its part, because it has no parts, and representation of God, which does refer to one object, but none of its parts is an intuition. Clearly we need a third category of mixed representation, which Bolzano explains as complex representations with intuitions as their parts, for instance, rose that spreads this smell. Depending on the prominent part of a mixed representation, it can be either a mixed intuition (e.g. this that is a colour) or a mixed concept (truths contained in this book).

Examples of intuitions we know of, Bolzano notes, belong to the realm of actuality as certain changes in our soul. He adds that these are probably the only intuitions we humans can know, since the only simple representations of an individual object we are aware of seem to be those caused by something actual. We cannot intuit all actual objects, Bolzano states, but for each actual or non-actual object that we have an exclusive representation of we can form a representation with intuition as a part, by relating the original intuition to other things that we can intuit (e.g. seed of this flower). According to Bolzano, with few exceptions, such as God and the universe, we cannot construct from pure concepts a representation that would pick out exclusively one object. Even if we managed to pick a set of characteristics that seem to individuate a finite substance, in the infinity of things there might be lurking another one with the very same set.

Bolzano points out that we can never have the same intuition twice, because the object of an intuition is a certain change outside or inside us causing this intuition and this exact thing cannot occur twice, although there can be representations similar to it. In the same manner, no one can have the same intuitions as I do and intuitions cannot be transmitted, unlike pure concepts. True, Bolzano admits, we do say that we transmit intuitions, but actually we just tell others of their characteristics, for example, by indicating that they are caused by a certain external object.

If interactions with a certain object are frequent, we may even give it a name, which is then a mixed representation (“object that has been the cause of such and such intuitions”). This is true, Bolzano notes, even of names of long gone objects (“person who lived in ancient Athens and was called Socrates”). In any case, he underlines, names are reserved only for some objects, and usually we just use words like “now”, “then”, “here”, “this” etc. and sometimes add some species for explanation (e.g. “this rose”). The last, which is a designation of a mixed representation, Bolzano muses, could be used in scientific treatises as indicating pure intuitions that otherwise are difficult to express.

Bolzano notes that every language has words that are used sometimes for pure concepts, sometimes for mixed representations, especially when speaking of natural objects. He gives as an example the concept of a human being. By human, Bolzano says, we can mean any reasoning creature (pure concept), whether they live on the Moon or Earth, but often we restrict the concept of humans to reasoning creatures on Earth (mixed representation, due to the reference on Earth). We can also find cases with a converse relation, Bolzano thinks and explains that by gold we have originally meant substance connected to certain intuitions, but we can purify this into a pure concept by describing it as substance causing certain changes in humans etc.

Bolzano considers the question whether the names he has picked for intuitions and concepts are suitable. His answer is that intuitions usually mean singular subjective representations, and that he has just extended the concept to objective representations. Then again, Bolzano notes that the term “concept” has often referred to objective representations, except that concepts have always been taken as either consisting of multiple parts or as having an extension with multiple objects. All in all, Bolzano is not very satisfied with the way intuitions and concepts have been treated by his predecessors, who generally recognised them as subjective representations.

All intuitions are simple and singular, Bolzano notes, but there’s more variety with concepts. Evidently there are complex concepts, but there must be also simple concepts, because all complex representations need at least the help of the simple representation “and”, which isn’t an intuition (other similar notions include such terms as have, should etc.) Some concepts have an infinite extension (e.g. created substance), some a finite extension (e.g. one of the cardinal virtues), some only a single object (e.g. community of all morally good entities) and some none (e.g. means for undoing past).

Bolzano considers also a question, important from the time of Kant, whether time and space are intuitions or concepts. Bolzano notes that there are actually many temporal and spatial representations, and for some the question has an obvious answer: general notions like moment in general and point in general cannot be intuitions, because they have many objects – thus, they must be concepts.

This still leaves unanswered the case of temporal and spatial representations with only one object, such as the whole infinite time or space and this particular point in time or space. Bolzano argues that none of these can be an intuition, because they do not have any existing objects: space and time have no effect on anything, and if they seem to, like when we say that time heals wounds, we actually mean that some object has this effect. Indeed, he concludes, they must be pure intuitions, since none of their parts is an intuition.

Although not really a task of logic, Bolzano quickly defines what space and time are. All existing things, except perhaps God, he says, are at a certain time. Thus, we could define time as the determination in something actual that must appear as a condition, in order that we can truly ascribe to it any characteristics. A similar definition can be given of space or a sum of all places, Bolzano suggests. All actual objects act and are acted upon, and the characteristics of these interactions depend on the forces of the objects and their places. Bolzano can then define the place of an actual thing as a determination that must be added to the forces of the thing, in order to comprehend the changes that they generate in one another.

Bernard Bolzano: Study of science – Parts of representations

Bolzano begins his study of the characteristics of representations with a preliminary plan: he shall begin with characteristics common to all representations, then move to remarkable types of representations, first to general types and then to types specified by parts of representations. Starting with the characteristics common to all representations, he notes a couple of features that have surfaced in his discussions earlier. Firstly, Bolzano notes, representations in themselves do not actually exist: thoughts of representations do, but representations in themselves are not thoughts, but their content. Secondly, no representation in itself is either true or false. Bolzano admits that sometimes representations are called true or false, but thinks these cases are clearly derivative. For instance, sometimes we say that a representation is true, if we apply it to some object and want to indicate that this object fits with that representation, which is a proposition, the truth of which is actually in question. Furthermore, sometimes we call a representation true, if we want to suggest that there are in general objects that fit representation, and similarly another representation – say, a square circle – false, if no object fits that representation: Bolzano underlines that this is not the original sense of true and false.

Bolzano points out that many representations are constituted from parts that are also representations, just like our thoughts of these representations consist of parts. He makes the observation that in this case the representation is not a mere sum of its parts, because the way these parts are connected also affects it: for instance, a poor brother of a rich father is different from a poor father of a rich brother. Although Bolzano’s discussion about the parts of representations seems to hinge on what words are used to describe the representations, he notes that sometimes the verbal expression of a representation is deceptive. For example, we have a habit of making implicit restrictions of the words we use, for instance, when we speak of animals and mean specifically animals. For this reason we have often a need to use a term like “animal in general”, which does not mean that something would be added to the representation of animal, but only that we want to remove all possible implicit restrictions. Similarly, Bolzano thinks, words like “every” or “the” do not really add anything to a representation: “humans are mammals”, “every human is a mammal” and “the human is a mammal” all mean the same.

Bolzano discusses further the features of the parts of representations, such as the fact that the parts can of course have their own parts. This is especially clear in a case where the parts are not representations, but propositions, like the representation of a creature which lives on Earth – “which lives on Earth” is a proposition with its own parts. Bolzano points out that in some cases the parts of representations connect one another immediately like not and being in not-being, while in other cases, the connection of parts requires mediation of other parts, like in the case of the creature which lives on Earth, where the part “which” connects a representation and a proposition into a whole. Bolzano also notes that in some cases, like the now many times mentioned creature which lives on Earth, the parts have an intrinsic order, with “creature” being in a sense earlier than or prior to the other parts – he is adamant that this order is not temporal, since representations do not exist. He also emphasises that not all parts of a representation need to have such an order, when a representation could be called just a sum of its parts, like “red and round”, which is the same representation as “round and red”.

We have already met representations with the form “A that is x”. Bolzano notes the language sometimes hides deceptively this form: the memory of Julius Scaliger means the memory which Julius Scaliger had. Similarly, constructions like righteous person can be easily turned into this form (a person that is righteous), but Bolzano suggests being cautious at times: painted fish is not a fish which is painted, but a painting, which represents a fish. Furthermore, he notes, an expression of the form “this A” can in some contexts mean “this which is A”. but in other contexts just the A (these assertions are the assertions, which we are currently engaged with.

Another common form Bolzano mentions is that of “something that is A”. He calls such a representation concrete, while the A is then an abstract representation of characteristic. Bolzano also notes that some representations are neither abstract nor concrete, like something, nothing, this A and Socrates. Bolzano also warns the reader that verbal expressions do not always reveal what representation is concrete, for instance, when we speak of animals, we actually mean something that has animality. Sometimes the same word can in some contexts refer even to concrete and in others to abstract representation, for instance, virtue usually means characteristics, but sometimes something that is virtuous.

Bolzano moves on to define simple representations as such that have no parts. It is at first problematic, whether any representation is simple, but Bolzano is convinced that finitely complex representations must have simple representations as parts. He also suggests that infinite wholes, like space, must also have simple parts, such as points in space. While representations thus have a lower limit, Bolzano thinks they cannot have any upper limit: to any representation could be added more and more things, like new characteristics (is the creature that lives on Earth a plant or an animal?) or even propositions (e.g. the truth that earthly creatures exist).

Bolzano notes that philosophers have sometimes insisted that representations should correspond to their objects. He has difficulties in even understanding what this correspondence means. It cannot mean that the representation should have the same number of parts as its object, because there are representations without any objects. Even if we restricted the notion of correspondence to representations with objects, we would still face the difficulty that some representations have propositions as their parts. Bolzano suggests the emendation that in these cases it would be parts of the proposition that would have to also correspond to their object. Yet, he quickly discards this solution, because in a representation like “land that has no mountains”, the concept of mountains should not correspond to anything in the land, which should be a land with no mountains.

Another possible interpretation of the notion of correspondence is that the parts of representation should correspond to the characteristics of the corresponding object. Yet, Bolzano points out, there are parts of representations that are not characteristics of its object, such as the already familiar something and which. Furthermore, he adds, there are characteristics of objects that are not part of the corresponding representation, for instance, because many objects simply have characteristics that we are not aware of. Indeed, Bolzano adds, in some cases there can be two different representations that have the same object, but different content, such as the notions of equilateral and equiangular triangle. There are even, he thinks, objects with an infinite number of characteristics (say, an irrational number, expressed as an infinite sum), although we certainly cannot think of all of them.

Bolzano’s latest arguments seem suspect, because they concern not representations in themselves, but only our thoughts of representations. Yet, he emphasises, the same is true even of representations in themselves, since although e.g. all equilateral triangles are also equiangular, equiangularity is not a part of the representation of an equilateral triangle: it is certainly not a part of the representation of a triangle – since not all triangles are equiangular – and not even a part of the representation of equilateral – this is obvious, once you think of an equilateral quadrangle or parallelogram that is not equiangular.

Bolzano goes on to give further arguments for his position, now from a different angle. Simplicity, he says, is a characteristic of a simple representation, but it is clearly not part of this representation, since simple representations should have no parts. Furthermore, Bolzano adds, simple representations usually represent something and thus have the characteristic of being something, but this being something is again not their part for the same reason that they are simple and thus have no parts. Finally, if we have several representations, then the two representations differ, but this difference is not part of either representation.

Bolzano is again a pioneer on the issue, as most earlier logicians, in Bolzano’s opinion, apparently had very different ideas on what composition of representations means. Most of them had ascribed themselves to the opinion that parts of a representation form like a sum, forgetting parts like “something”, “which” and “is”. Furthermore they had often confused parts of a representation, on the one hand, with parts of its object, and on the other hand, with characteristics of representations that are not its parts. Indeed, Bolzano observes, these differences are what underlies the Kantian notions of analytical and synthetical judgement – analytical judgement merely points out some constituent parts of the subject representation, while synthetical judgement moves on from this to further characteristics of the subject – although Kant and his followers did not properly understand the difference.

Bernard Bolzano: Study of science – What are representations?

If the first part of Bolzano’s logic – the fundamental science – was rather an outlier in a logic book, the next part – the elementary science – seems at first sight much more traditional. Thus, Bolzano notes that since logic deals with the question of dividing science into groups of truths that are presented in scientific treatises, we must investigate the characteristics of truths. Before we can get into truths or true propositions, he continues, we must first deal with characteristics of propositions in general, and before that, we must deal with characteristics of parts of propositions, which he calls somewhat unexpectedly representations. Furthermore, Bolzano adds, we should also deal with a useful subset of propositions and truths that indicate that certain propositions can be derived from others – these are deductions. Thus, Bolzano’s elementary science, so named because it deals with the ultimate elements of scientific treatises, deals almost traditionally with representations, propositions, truths and deductions, with some of the nomenclature and the inclusion of truths the seemingly only peculiarities.

Starting with representations (Vorstellung), Bolzano notes that they have internal characteristics that require no comparison to anything else and external characteristics that arise from relations to other things. The latter he then divides into characteristics in relation to other representations and characteristics in relation to other things, like propositions. But before going into any of these, Bolzano states, we have to investigate the very notion of representations in themselves.

Bolzano begins by noting that he has used the term “representation” earlier, but only in what he takes to be its common sense or then in contexts where it is evident what is meant. Just like with propositions, he wants to distinguish representation in itself from this common meaning, which he calls a thought of representation or subjective representation. ; In comparison, Bolzano states, representation in itself could be called an objective representation and it refers to any constituent of a proposition in itself that is not yet itself a proposition.

Bolzano notes that his explanation of representation might not be enough, since the very notion of proposition in itself was somewhat mysterious, so he tries to give another explanation. He starts from representation in the common sense or the subjective representation – whenever we are perceiving, imagining or thinking something, without making any explicit judgements or assertions, we are representing, and since all of these activities suppose a subject who does these, they could be called subjective representations. As mental states, Bolzano adds, these subjective representations have actual existence.

Now, Bolzano continues, every subjective representation has a content or material and this material is the objective representation in itself. This representation in itself does not require any subject, but then again, it also does not exist. Because representation in itself is not connected to any particular subject, it can be thought by a number of different persons and still remain the same representation – this is why it is called objective, Bolzano explains. He even suggests that there are representations that are not thought by anyone beyond God, like the number of grapes in southern Italy this year.

Bolzano goes on to distinguish representation from several other notions. Although representation was called the material of subjective representation, he begins, it is definitely not the object to which subjective representation refers to: indeed, a representation can refer to many objects, like the representation of an ancient Greek philosopher refers to both Plato and Aristotle. Another clear distinction between the two, Bolzano adds, is that the representation in itself does never exist, but objects of representation can exist – then again, they do not always exist, for instance, if the representation in question is the notion of a proposition. He even fathoms that some representations do not have any object, giving as an example the square root of –1.

Bolzano also emphasises that representations are not words, since these are always sensuous objects, either sounds or written signs. Furthermore, he adds, some representations are not connected to any words, while other representations can be signified by many words. Bolzano notes that sometimes even propositions and judgements are taken as representations, e.g. when philosophers speak of true and false representations. Bolzano thinks it important to separate these notions, although representations can include propositions as parts: think, for instance, the representation of a conjecture that God is omnipotent.

Bolzano admits that the notion of representation in itself is strange, but necessary for logic. Although representation in itself does not exist, it can have what he calls Gegenständlichkeit (objectivity), by which he means simply that the representation is connected to Gegenstand or an object. In addition to this connection with reality, Bolzano argues, representations in themselves are a necessary assumption, if we want to speak of constituents of propositions and truths in themselves. He admits the name is not perfect, since representations suggests something mental, but no better is available: best option would be concept (Begriff), but Bolzano notes that this term is often reserved for a subset of representations (representations that are not intuitions).

Bolzano points out that just like in case of representation, there really isn’t any satisfactory definition of representation. True, he has managed to describe representations as constituents of propositions, but he also considers this a mere external characteristic of representation, not its essence. Even worse in this sense is the description of representation as a material of thoughts, since this ambiguous term might in another sense refer to the objects of thought.

As difficult as defining representation in itself, Bolzano finds defining subjective representation. He has described it as an appearance of some object in a thinking mind, but here the word “appearance” is just another word for representation, so the definition is actually circular. Bolzano considers other suggested definitions, but rejects all of them. Subjective representation is not an image, except in a metaphorical sense, but then it could be applied to other mental phenomena, since even chest pain could be called a metaphorical image of a heart attack. Subjective representation is also not a symbol referring to some thought or concept, and it also not a sign in the sense that smoke is a sign of fire.

Bolzano still considers whether other philosophers had any inkling of the representations in themselves, but finds nothing certain, although some of them had noticed that the same concepts could be thought by different persons. Yet, he does not want to be harsh with them, since even the easier notion of propositions in themselves had escaped them. Indeed, Bolzano says, representations have often meant something completely different, with the meaning varying from one author to another, and each of these uses have probably delineated important notions in other disciples. Yet, he concludes, the notion of non-propositional parts of propositions is important for logic, and since no better nomenclature is available, he will call these representations.

Bernard Bolzano: Study of science – Can we know any truths?

The second question of Bolzano’s fundamental science concerns knowledge or cognition (Erkenntniss), but before we can understand what it is, he says, we must first understand what judgements (Urteil) are. Judgement is, again, a term that Bolzano cannot give a definition of, so he suggests just that he is using it in the regular sense of the word. Since this is a rather meager explanation, he gives a further detail that judgements are the common element in e.g. decision, opining, belief and assent.

Bolzano goes on to indicate some further characteristics of judgements. Every judgement contains a proposition, and depending on whether the proposition is true or false, the judgement is correct or incorrect. As something belonging to the human mind, Bolzano thinks, judgement exists, but then again, its existence is not independent, but dependent on the person who makes the judgement. He emphasises that judgement is different from mere representation of proposition, which does not assert anything. Thus, Bolzano suggests, God judges every true proposition, but only represents false judgements.

What then does it mean to make a judgement? Bolzano observes that it is an activity that requires that we have first decided to consider representations, where this consideration has led to a confidence that some proposition is true. He notes that the force of this confidence can have different degrees and that we cannot decide what this degree is. If it happens that a proposition and its opposite seem equally probable, we cannot judge, but only doubt.

Knowledge or cognition, Bolzano defines, is a judgement that contains a true proposition: thus, all cognition involves judgement, but some judgements do not involve cognition. True, he admits, we sometimes speak of erroneous cognition, but then we mean that cognition is mingled with some errors. When Bolzano is thus asking whether we humans can know or cognise anything, he means to ask whether any of our judgements can be true. He clarifies that he is not taking a stance on whether children or mentally ill people can do this, but wants to know just whether his readers can know any truths.

The target of Bolzano is a full skeptic who does not accept any truths. Such an extreme skeptic, he says, could not even make judgements, because this would require considering something as true. Indeed, if they said that they doubted something, they would appear to know at least this doubt. A wary skeptic might avoid this trap by not even committing themselves to their own doubt. But if they say that they doubt this doubt, don’t they admit then this second-level doubt? This takes us to an infinite regression, but we can cut the escape of the skeptic short, Bolzano thinks, by pointing out that in all these discussions the skeptic constantly has representations and can know it.

Having found this certain truth, Bolzano continues, we can say with certainty that we know it. Indeed, the judgement that this judgement is a truth is a further truth and thus something we can know. Since we can clearly repeat this same procedure over and over again, there are innumerably many truths we can know.

Bolzano notes that the proofs he has just given satisfy the skeptic for a single moment, but a complete cure requires further convincing, which he puts in a form of dialogue, which begins by the skeptic denying that they can admit having representations, because they do not even know whether there is any I that would have them. Bolzano is convinced that the skeptic cannot really doubt their own existence, once they think about the issue, and even if they do not happen to consider their existence, they need not make any judgement about it in order to notice that they are having representations. The skeptic concedes this, but raises the further doubt that this is all just their peculiar judgement that is skewed to regard everything erroneously. Bolzano assures us that even such an erroneous person would be right in assuming that they have representations and do exist.

Skeptic moves on to a new level of attack by admitting that Bolzano has managed to show that seemingly good grounds justify the truth of some of the judgements, yet, the question is whether these grounds themselves are true. Bolzano answers that the grounds are immediately certain. Furthermore, he continues, although these grounds presuppose the truth of what is to be proved, knowing the truth of the conclusions does not presuppose knowing the truth of the grounds, just like our belief in seeing does not require belief in the existence of the eyes, although the existence of eyes can be proven from the fact we do see something.

The skeptic is still afraid of the possibility that the judgement about the representations is just an error. Bolzano suggests that the question is not anymore about being convinced of the judgement, because just attending to it makes the answer obvious and even being deceived presupposes having representations. Perhaps, he says, the question is that the skeptic does not understand why they are so convinced. Bolzano really doesn’t have any answer: our power of cognition is behind it, but we do not know how it works – then again, we only need to know that it does work.

The skeptic changes tack and questions the worth of knowing the existence of representations. Bolzano admits this is not much, but at least it assures us that our power of cognition is not completely faulty. Skeptic finds this hard to believe, since we cannot know whether our representations correspond to the objects in themselves, because we can’t compare representations with their objects. Bolzano finds this whole question deceiving: because the very idea of comparing representations with objects is irrational, the truth of our judgements cannot depend on this. Sometimes, he continues, we know our judgements to be true, because this is evident from the very concepts used: this happens especially in mathematics. At other times, our judgements are based on immediately certain intuitions, just like when I say that I see red. Finally, Bolzano concludes, sometimes our judgements concern causes of our intuitions, and these judgements are based on probable information about the possible effects of objects, received through constant occurrence of some types of intuitions together.

The skeptic is relentless and notes that despite all these cognitive tools, humans still manage to make many errors. Bolzano points out that immediately certain judgements cannot be doubted and neither can correct deductions. This leaves still probable arguments, and he admits they can lead to errors, but adds immediately that it is not reasonable to not assent to very probable judgements. The skeptic points out that in dreams and confused states our cognitive tools do not work. Bolzano thinks that even in these states the errors do not concern immediately certain judgements, but only consequences deduced from them: thus, although it is certain even in a fevered state that if I feel cold, I truly feel cold, it is wrong to conclude that this feeling is caused by coldness of the air surrounding us. Even so, he continues, these problems do not concern us in a healthy state. The skeptic makes the obvious retort that in a dream or confused state we often cannot recognise that we are in an abnormal situation. Crusius agrees, but thinks the important point is that in a healthy state we can distinguish it from abnormal state. The skeptic makes the final suggestion that perhaps we will have quite different experiences in the afterlife. Bolzano is sure of that, but asks the reader to focus on our current judgements that concern our current life.

After this long detour, the skeptic accepts that they do know some truths, but still asks for a criterion to recognise truths. Bolzano suggests as a criterion that a judgement is reliable, if it is ascertained always when tested. The skeptic still raises the possibility that their memory might be in error, but Bolzano finds this very improbable.

Bolzano notes in the end that these kinds of investigations are usually not included in logic. Instead, he continues, their place is often taken by the so-called laws of thinking, such as the law of contradiction. Bolzano notes that often these laws concern things in general and not judgements, making them more fit for ontology than logic.

Bernard Bolzano: Study of science – Are there truths in themselves?

The purpose of fundamental science, the first part of Bolzano’s logic, is to remove all doubt that prevents any use of human reason. This task, he says, has two parts: first, we have to show that there are what he calls truths in themselves, and then, we have to show that humans can know at least some of these truths. Bolzano notes that one might doubt the meaningfulness of both of these tasks, since true skeptics wouldn’t even believe in the existence of other people and wouldn’t then even listen to any of their arguments. Bolzano notes that even if we cannot save such extreme doubters, we can convince people who are in danger of becoming skeptics. Furthermore, he adds, even the most stubborn skeptics live unskeptically and thus have the opportunity to be at least internally convinced, even if they refuse to admit this.

As a preliminary to the first task, Bolzano introduces the notion of proposition in itself (Satz an sich). He does not explain the phrase immediately, but only through comparison with other types of propositions. In other words, Bolzano says that uttered propositions are spoken phrases indicating something that must be either true or false, while a thought proposition is such that is not spoken, but only thought by anyone. Yet, he adds, propositions need not be said or thought at all, and if we ignore the question whether they are or not, we are dealing with propositions in themselves.

Bolzano is at some pains to explain why he can use the German word Satz for the notion he is describing: Satz is etymologically related to the verb Setzen, which implies that there is some person “setting up” this proposition. He explains that the etymology should not be taken literally here, just as a mathematical root of an equation is not at all like a root of a plant. Besides, he states, the concept is needed, and any other possible designation, like judgement (Urteil), would point even more to a thinker behind it. Indeed, Bolzano emphasises again and again that proposition is nothing anyone needs to be thinking (although it can be). This implies, he notes, that propositions in themselves do not exist, although thought of a proposition can exist. Then again, Bolzano points out, propositions in themselves can still concern thoughts (think of a proposition like “I am thinking myself”).

Bolzano is assured that previous logicians have at least implicitly used the concept of proposition in itself: for instance, they have admitted that the order of propositions in syllogisms is irrelevant, which would not be true, if they described the order of thinking and not relations of abstract propositions. True, he admits,they have not spoken of propositions, but judgements, mostly because many of them supposed that the phrase Satz referred only to a subclass of judgements, namely, assertions. Bolzano notes that even the suggested other types, such as questions, can be also seen as assertions: question just is an assertion saying something of the form “I ask this and this”.

Bolzano admits that his description of proposition is no true definition. His excuse is that no proper definition is simply available. The best historical alternative – that it is something that can be true or false – is not a classical definition, according to Bolzano, because it contains a disjunction. Other suggested definitions, he notes, have often concerned thoughts of propositions or then they have assumed the concept to be defined.

Bolzano has introduced the notion of a proposition in itself only to explain the further notion of truth. Words “true” and “truth”, he says, can mean many things, but the most appropriate is that truth is a characteristic of certain propositions in themselves, whether they are asserted or thought or not. Sometimes, Bolzano continues, we speak of truths, when we mean these propositions that have this characteristic. An even further deviation is to speak of true thoughts or judgements that contain true propositions or of collections of propositions or judgements. The least appropriate meaning, Bolzano thinks, is that of speaking of e.g. true friends, where we are referring to an object that truly is what it is described to be.

Just like there are propositions in themselves, Bolzano says, there are truths in themselves or objective truths, that is, truths no matter whether anyone says or thinks it. Just like propositions in themselves, he thinks, truths in themselves do not exist, except when thought by someone. Bolzano does admit that metaphysically speaking, God does know all truths, but this does not lie in the very concept of truth: truth in itself differs from a known truth. Furthermore, he continues, truth differs from certainty, which is a property of judgements, and from existence, although truths can refer to something existent. Interesting is the relation of truth to thinkability and knowability. Bolzano notes that all truths are thinkable, but not everything thinkable is true. Even more, he adds, all truths are knowable and everything knowable is true, but the concepts are still different, because knowledge and thus also knowability have degrees, but truth does not.

Bolzano could not define propositions in themselves, but he suggests we can define truths in themselves. Propositions always have a subject or a topic, of which they figuratively say or predicate something. Propositions are true, Bolzano underlines, if this subject actually has what the proposition predicates of it. The only weak point in this definition, he says, is the word “actually”, which in this context means the same as “truly”. Still, Bolzano thinks, this is no problem, since we can do without this word: proposition is true means that proposition predicates of its subject what the subject has.

Bolzano considers several alternative definitions of truth, dismissing quickly the so-called metaphysical definition, equating truth with existence. A more interesting definition is that of truth as correspondence between thought or representation with its object. Bolzano cannot, of course, accept this definition, because it speaks only of thoughts or representations of truths. Furthermore, he says, no one has really been able to explain what this correspondence is supposed to be. If it is meant to say just that a representation represents its objects, well, Bolzano thinks, this is what representations always do. If it means that representations within a proposition have the same relation to one another as their objects, this cannot be literally true, he points out, because e.g. a representation of God is not the cause of a representation of the world.

Further suggested definitions of truth Bolzano finds even less convincing. Truth cannot be just universal validity, since every person does not know every truth. Furthermore, truth cannot be defined as agreement with the rules of thinking, because these rules are either defined in terms presuming the notion of truth or then the definition also includes probable propositions that are still not true. Finally, truth is not defined by permanence, which is at most a sign of truth, not its essence.

Bolzano criticises attempts to extend the notion of truth. Firstly, he is not fond of the concept of subjective truth or of truth relative to a person, since we already have notions like opinion. Similarly, Bolzano forbids the idea of a formal truth, which at best means something like non-contradictoriness, which should not be confused with truth.

With all these preliminaries taken care of, Bolzano can finally move to his actual task, that is, proving that there are truths in themselves. This does not mean, he underlines again, that we should prove that such truths exist, but only that at least one proposition in itself is true – or to put it in other terms – that the proposition “no proposition is true” is not true. This, Bolzano quickly notes, is evident because “no proposition is true” contradicts itself: if it were true, it would itself not be true. Thus, there must be at least one truth. Even further, Bolzano points out, the same proof can be applied again. Say that we know there to be a certain number n of truths. Well, if we pick out these n truths and consider the proposition “no proposition beside these specific truths is true”, we note again that this proposition contradicts itself and that there are more – and indeed, infinitely more – true propositions.

Bolzano notes that a hardcore skeptic might not be impressed with this proof. They would object that if they are to be convinced by this proof, they must already suppose that they have a capacity to know truth, thus already presupposing that there are truths in themselves. Furthermore, Bolzano continues with the skeptic’s objections, the proof assumes the premiss that “no proposition is true” is a proposition in itself, thus assuming another truth before we showed that there are any truths. Bolzano is not afraid of these objections. Firstly, he admits that the person convinced of the proof must have a capacity to know truths, but they themselves need not explicitly have this as an opinion. Secondly, Bolzano agrees with the skeptic that the mentioned premiss is true and goes even so far as to suggest that its truth is immediately convincing. Yet, he adds at once, this is no problem, but another proof for what we set out to demonstrate. The method Bolzano used was chosen just because it so forcefully showed the self-contradictoriness of all skepticism, but this does not mean that there aren’t other ways to do the same thing.

Bernard Bolzano: Study of science (1837)

(1781–1848)

Hearing the title of Bolzano's magnum opus – Wissenschaftslehre – makes a student of German idealism instantly think of Fichte's similarly named treatises. Despite Bolzano's cries against this, the two do share something in common, namely, the attempt to set up a kind of metascience or a science of sciences that acts as a foundation for all other sciences.

The similarities between the two projects do not go far beyond this very abstract foundation. Bolzano's Wissenschaftslehre is a much more modest affair. For Bolzano, science is just a convenient chunk of the sum of all human knowledge that could be presented in an easy to understand and convincing book or treatise presentable in a book. Wissenschaftslehre, for Bolzano, is then in essence a science of rules for making books or treatises from sciences.

Bolzano emphasises the literary character of Wissenschaftslehre: it should not include didactics, which he defines as the science of oral teaching of sciences. Even so, an inevitable question is whether it is possible to write a scientific treatise on Wissenschaftslehre, before one has such a treatise from which to learn the skill. Bolzano notes that it is possible, because it is possible to follow the rules without knowing them distinctly.

Bolzano notes that his planned Wissenschaftslehre is not a new idea, but has been studied under many different names, most often under the name of logic. True, he admits, logic has never really been defined in the same way as he does, probably because the rules of making scientific treatises have formed just a small part of logic. Bolzano finds no difficulty in this, since these other topics are preliminaries we must learn, before getting to the writing of a scientific treatise – a phenomenon familiar with other sciences also.

Reverting to the more familiar name, Bolzano notes that by logic we can mean logic in objective sense – sum of logical truths, no matter whether they are actually known by anyone – logic as an individual treatise and logic in subjective sense – sum of opinions on logical topics of a certain person or subject. Logic in the subjective sense can then be divided into natural logic – sum of logical insights that anyone has without any learning – and artificial logic – sum of logical information gathered through various means of learning. Furthermore, Bolzano notes, logic in the subjective sense can be distinguished from a capacity to follow logical rules, because it is possible to follow logical rules without knowing them and know the rules without being able to follow them. Logical capacity finally divides into innate logical talent and logical art acquired through, for instance, study of sciences.

Bolzano points out that even if we have innate logical skills, studying logic is still good for avoiding mistakes and false deductions and especially useful for very subtle disciplines like metaphysics. In addition, Bolzano says, a logical treatise gives a good example of what a scientific treatise should look like. Still, he does not encourage teaching logic to very young children, because it requires very much abstraction, its topic being so far removed from sensuous matters. Instead one should first study easier disciplines, like natural sciences and a priori sciences that can be sensuously represented, such as geometry.

Bolzano considers some questions about the nature of logic, such as whether it is more of an art or a science. According to his definitions, it is actually both. Crusius defines art as a practical or technical science, that is, a science, the essential content of which lies in rules of behaviour, or in a more stricter sense, as a scientific description of processes one must do to put rules of technical science in practice. Logic, he thinks, is at least a technical science and maybe even art in a stricter sense.

Another question is whether logic is a formal science. Bolzano has some problems understanding what the question means. In a sense, he says, the answer might be positive: logic deals, for instance, not with any determined propositions, but with kinds of propositions (such as affirmative and negative propositions) that might be called their forms. Then again, Bolzano adds, if by formal is meant such a science that abstracts from all differences of objects, logic does not fit the description, because it deals e.g. with difference of empirical and non-empirical truths or that of analytical and synthetical propositions. Even more so, Bolzano states, if by formal science is meant a mere collection of analytical truths, logic, and indeed no real science, is such a collection.

Bolzano considers also the relation of logic to other sciences: is logic dependent on some of them or an independent science? He explains that by a science being dependent on another he means that a treatise of the first science must contain in its demonstrations propositions belonging to the second science. Bolzano points out that very few sciences are independent in this sense. Logic particularly, in his opinion, depends at least on empirical psychology.

The only task left to do for Bolzano before actually starting logic is to consider what preliminaries to study before dealing with the proper science of sciences, that is, showing how the field of truth should be divided into individual sciences and what rules these sciences should follow. Before we can get to the business of constructing sciences, he says, we must obviously have truths to make them. Thus, Bolzano concludes, logic must also contain heuristic or art of finding truths.

Bolzano notes that the proper science of sciences and heuristic cover much of what is usually named methodology. In fact, he says, they contain even more, since usually methodology is taken to be a part of pure logic, containing only truths applicable to all thinking beings, while his science of sciences and heuristic are explicitly dealing with the question of how humans find truths and make sciences out of them. Because of this, Bolzano suggests, logic must also investigate the question how humans can in general know truths, that is, it must deal with epistemology.

It was commonly thought the methodology presupposed what was called elementary science that dealt with concepts or representations, propositions or judgements, deductions or syllogisms and often also truth. Bolzano also accepts this elementary science as a part of logic, since understanding these elements is necessary for understanding how truths can be known and found out. He does make a significant change: while usually the elementary science was meant to be a study of e.g. truths as thoughts, Bolzano argues that it should study something more fundamental, in other words, truths in themselves that need not be thought by anyone.

Elementary science, as conceived by Bolzano, has one further presupposition: in order to study truths in themselves, we must at first ascertain that there are such objective truths, not dependent on any thinker, and that we humans can have access to them. This final – or actually the first – part of logic he calls fundamental science, because all other sciences presuppose it. Next time, we shall start our journey through Bolzano's logic with this fundamental science.

Strauss, David: Life of Jesus – The mythical layer

Moving on from the historical kernel to the mythical layer of the life of Jesus, Strauss notes that we could go through each gospel separately, or because the synoptic gospels share so many similarities, treat them as a unity and then add considerations on the gospel of John. Instead, Strauss thinks that the accounts of the gospels are so closely connected to one another that it is simpler just to go through various parts of the legendary life of Jesus, dealing all at once with what each gospel has to say about each part.

Strauss begins from the mythical origins of Jesus. He recollects that the only historical certainties of the background of Jesus are that he was from Nazareth, that his parents were probably called Joseph and Mary and that he was baptised by John the Baptist. Since Jesus was considered to be the Messiah, Strauss explains, it was necessary to add to these known facts the assumption that he hailed from the line of David. Now, the Old Testament recounted David’s family line, starting from Adam, the supposed progenitor of all human race, all the way down to David’s descendant Serubabel. It was then down to the gospel writers to invent the line connecting Serubabel to Jesus. Strauss notes that while Matthew proceeded to do exactly this, probably because it was important to him as the writer closest to the Jewish interests, to show that Jesus was part of the royal line, Luke is content to use the biblical family line only down to Rehabeam, probably because later kings of Israel were told to worship false divinities.

Now, Strauss notes, the introduction of these two genealogies of Jesus created some problems. Firstly, because both Matthew and Luke were interested in the numerology of their genealogies, they had to do some creative editing with them: Matthew wanted to divide the family line into three segments with equal number of people and was therefore forced to drop out a few links in the already determined chain of the Old Testament to do this, while Luke repeats a few names, in order to get to a sufficiently round number. Another problem lies in the fact that genealogies in both Matthew’s and Luke’s gospels are based on Joseph, which suggests that they hailed from a time when Mary, the mother of Jesus, was not yet thought to be a virgin. Finally, there’s the obvious problem that Matthew and Luke give two completely different persons as the father of Joseph: a problem that Augustine tried later to solve by suggesting that the other one was an adoptive father.

Jesus was not just supposed to come from the line of David, but his life should have reflected that of David. Thus, Strauss notes, the gospel writers wanted to show something reminiscent of David being anointed by the prophet Samuel. Because there was no indication that Jesus was so anointed, the probable historical baptism of Jesus was repurposed for this task. In order to make his baptism stand out from those of other people baptised by John, the gospel writers introduced a divine voice proclaiming Jesus as the new Messiah. Strauss points out that the less human the notion of Jesus became, especially in the gospel of John, the less he was supposed to be in need of any purification. Thus, with John, the baptism of Jesus became just a sign of his divine origin.

An important part of the legend of Messiah was that he was supposed to be born in Bethlehem, where David had also been born. The problem was, Strauss indicates, that Jesus was known to come from Nazareth. This dilemma was solved by two gospel writers, Matthew and Luke, but, as Strauss points out, in completely opposite ways. Thus, Matthew suggested that the family of Jesus had originally lived in Bethlehem, but had to move to Nazareth due to avoiding the wrath of Herod. Then again, Luke made the opposite assumption that his family had always lived in Nazareth, but had to travel to Bethlehem due to a census (Strauss notes that this story goes particularly against known historical facts, since the known dates of the officials mentioned by Luke do not match the known dates of years when a census was made, and furthermore, even if a census had been arranged at the time, there was no need for Mary to accompany Joseph).

A further addition to the legend of Jesus was the idea of Jesus as the son of God. Strauss points out that originally Jews had used this epithet to simply describe any holy person and that probably the Greco-Roman part of early Christianity interpreted it more literally, being more accustomed to say, for instance, that the emperors were of divine origin. Strauss surmises that the Judaist part of the new faith could accept this reinterpretation because of biblical tales of God helping old women to conceive. Furthermore, the account in the book of Isaiah of a young woman giving birth to a boy could also be repurposed as a prophecy about such a miraculous event, where God uses the forces of nature to make Mary carry a child. Luke particularly added the story of the foretold birth of John the Baptist and a familial link to Jesus, just like in the Old Testament the birth of Samuel preceded that of David.

This divine birth was not enough for John, Strauss says, and this gospel writer supposed that Jesus had lived as a divine entity even before his time on earth. This idea was not completely novel, Strauss thinks. One precursor was the notion that God had planned the coming of the Messiah at the very moment of creation. Another precursor was Philo’s idea of interpreting the dual creation of human beings in Genesis as describing first the creation of a heavenly human that worked as a model for the earthly Adam. Strauss notes that Paul similarly spoke of Christ as the second Adam, but meaning him to be second only by his earthly life and existing in heaven even before Adam’s creation.

Another clear predecessor of John’s gospel, Strauss thinks, was Philo’s idea of divine Logos, which is a combination of the personified Wisdom of the Old Testament proverbs and the world spirit of Stoic and Platonic philosophy. John took the step of identifying the Judaist Messiah with this divine Logos and he hinted at Logos taking on a human body, perhaps already at the time of birth, although the details were left murky. Thus, while the natality stories of Matthew and Luke saw Jesus as a combination of divine spirit and a female bred body, with John, Jesus was a direct embodiment of Logos.

Strauss also points out that the gospel writers admonished the origin story of Jesus with tropes familiar from legends of both pagan and Jewish heroes, singling especially Moses out as a person Jesus was supposed to resemble. Thus, Strauss begins, many ancient heroes were believed to be born at a time of astronomical spectacles, for instance, the birth of Caesar was supposedly marked by a comet. Furthermore, Balaam in the book of Numbers was said to have prophesied about a rising star that was connected with the Messiah. Matthew appears to link this passage with Isaiah’s mention of kings bearing gifts to Messiah, further connection being that the kings in Matthew were said to come from orient, that is, from the lands where Balaam was supposed to live.

It was also a common trope, Strauss says, that the heroes faced in their childhood a death threat by old rulers, who had learned from seers that the babies would later defeat their rule. While Romulus is an obvious pagan example, Strauss also notes a Jewish folktale describing how pharaoh was set out to kill the baby boys of the Hebrew, because he had heard a prophecy describing the birth of Moses. Strauss suggests that this folktale lies behind Matthew’s account of Herod killing babies in Bethlehem and the family of Jesus running away, not from, but to Egypt. Strauss also points out that Matthew’s story contradicts Luke's story: while Matthew told that Joseph and Mary moved to Galilee and avoided the Israel proper, due to the rule of the son of Herod, Luke showed Jesus visiting a temple in Jerusalem in his childhood.

Luke’s tale of young Jesus in the temple, Strauss adds, is also a familiar trope of a precocious hero showing wisdom beyond their years. Strauss particularly mentions the Old Testament story of Joseph, and just like Joseph’s father, Jacob, was said to have enclosed the words of Jacob in his heart, so is Mary, the mother of Jesus, said to have enclosed the various indications of the superhuman nature of his son to her heart. Strauss points out that later apocryphal gospels even added to the legend of the child Jesus, showing him performing miracles at an early age.

Great heroes of old faced trials, often at the beginning of their career, whether it be Hercules having to choose between life of virtue and vice or Abraham facing the command of God to sacrifice his son. Strauss especially points out the failed trial of Israelites following Moses, who started worshipping idols in the wilderness. The tale of the temptation of Jesus in the wilderness, Strauss suggests, adds to the tale of the Israelites the Persian notion of the evil principle tempting humans to sin, but the three temptations still reflect the temptations of Jewish people: the Hebrews complained about the food, while Jesus said that he could come by with the word of God, they demanded miracles from God, while Jesus refused to throw himself off a cliff and be rescued by angels, and they served false gods, while Jesus did not bow down to the devil in order to gain earthly power.

While the origin stories of Jesus are completely mythical, there is more historical in the story of the public life of Jesus, Strauss thinks, like his baptism by John the Baptist. Still, there are clear mythical additions to this story, Strauss admits, like the supposed recognition of Jesus as Messiah by the Baptist, due to a miraculous event of God proclaiming Jesus as his son. Strauss points out that this mythical addition creates an internal contradiction, when the Baptist later sends his disciples to ask whether Jesus is the Messiah. Strauss notes that the gospel of John developed the tale further away from historical truth by letting Baptist himself declare that Jesus is a heavenly being and the disciples of Baptist turning straightaway into disciples of Jesus.

Strauss considers it a historical fact that Jesus had at least a fisher and a tax collector as his disciples (although gospels do not agree upon the name of the tax collector) and thinks it probable that Jesus compared his disciples to fisher of men. What Strauss already finds improbable is the suggestion of gospels that the disciples just left what they were doing when Jesus commanded them to follow him. Furthermore, the gospels also introduced some of the disciples with an unhistorical tale of fishing miracle, most likely as an analogy to the idea of disciples as fisher of men. John’s gospel differed again radically from the synoptic gospels, Strauss points out, since John did not mention any fishermen or tax collectors among disciples of Jesus, but did mention a relative of the high priest, probably because of a need of later times to make Christianity more palatable to higher circles of the society.

As to the names of the disciples, Paul had already mentioned Kephas (more familiarly known as Peter), John and Jacob, the brother of Jesus, as the leaders of the early Christians. It is then no wonder, Strauss indicates, that the synoptic gospels used these three as names of the disciples, although they refrained from taking Jacob as a brother of Jesus, but interpreted him to be a brother of John. Now, Paul had described the three leaders as very Judaistic and opposed to Paul’s idea of proselytising to pagans. In an attempt to break the connection to the early Judaistic Christianity, Strauss suggests, John’s gospel belittled especially the role of Peter and emphasised an unnamed favourite disciple of Jesus, who supposedly wrote the gospel and was probably meant to be identified with John.

The evident mythical aspect of the gospels appears in the miracles of Jesus. Jews expected Messiah to heal sick people, Strauss suggests, because of a passage from Isaiah – originally a parable written during Babylonian captivity, describing the awaited paradisiacal state of Jews returning to their homeland, where blind, deaf and lame would be cured – was taken literally as a prophecy and because the Old Testament prophets like Elijah and Elisha had been told to do similar miracles.

It is no wonder then that stories of miraculous healing were also told of Jesus, although in difference from the Old Testament tales, the various afflictions Jesus heals are not divine punishments. Strauss suggests that if these tales had any historical origin, like use of charisma and folk medicine to ease the symptoms of people, by the time of gospels this historical kernel had been wrapped in a layer of mythology. For instance, while the original Jesus might have thought he opened up people’s eyes figuratively, in gospels he did this quite literally, and in the case of John’s gospel, Jesus was said to heal even people blind from their birth.

Despite the rather crude physicality of the healing miracles, Strauss admits, gospels did try to add also more subtle issues to their wondrous tales. Thus, the aforementioned John also used the figurative meaning of blindness to indicate that the non-repenting Jews were unable to see the truth in front of them. Furthermore, gospels considered the doctrinal issue of whether healing is allowed on Sabbath and John argued on this point that God and the divine Logos never truly rest. Finally, Luke used a story of lepers to show the ingratitude of Jews in comparison to a Samaritan, linking this miracle to his fable of a Good Samaritan (interestingly, of all gospel writers John alone never spoke of any lepers, which makes Strauss surmise that the so-called John came from the upper echelons of the society and had thus never really met any lepers).

Among the conditions healed by Jesus, deafness and muteness, Strauss says, were often explained to be caused by a demonic possession, although Jesus also healed other possessed persons. The notion of healing possessed people in general is interesting, Strauss adds, because there is no equivalent to it in the Old Testament. Furthermore, Strauss thinks, if any healings were real, driving away demons must have been, because these were clearly psychological phenomena. Still, he concludes, even these healing stories cannot be always explained naturalistically: in Luke and Mark people possessed by demons recognised Jesus as Messiah, and Jesus also transmitted demons into pigs, making the animals drown themselves (Strauss notes here analogies with Hellenistic tales of demon possession). Strauss concludes his discussion of possessions by noting that John spoke only of figurative possessions, probably because they were not in fashion at his time anymore.

Strauss notes that some tales of miraculous healing add further mythical layers. Thus, both Matthew and Luke told that even mere touching of garments of Jesus, without any voluntary act on the part of Jesus, was enough for curing a woman: while in Matthew, this might just have been understood as the woman feeling psychologically better because of her own faith in the power of Jesus, Luke suggested a literal energy flowing from Jesus to the sick person, which Strauss likens to movement of electric fluid or to cases of the so-called animal magnetism. On the contrary, Jesus was also said to be able to heal people from distance, requiring no physical medium, but only his own will.

It was not enough for the Messiah to just heal sick people, since Elyah and Elisha had already told to have awakened dead, and it seemed reasonable, Strauss surmises, that Jesus, whose death and resurrection was supposed to be precursor of a general resurrection, would have awakened dead in his own lifetime. Thus, we see synoptic gospels telling the story of the daughter of Jairus (the name of the father was mentioned only by Luke, thus, Strauss considers it to be probably unhistorical). In Matthew, the father was said to come straightaway to ask Jesus to raise her from the dead: Strauss points out the problem that the father could not yet have known that Jesus was able to do such miracles. Hence, he argues, Mark and Luke felt the need to add the further point that the father asked Jesus to heal his daughter, but she died while they were on the way to meet her. In addition to this story, Luke added a tale of Jesus raising an only son of a widow, which Strauss sees as meaning to provide more emotional resonance with the harrowing details.

The more time from the death of Jesus went by, the more urgent the question became whether even people long dead would be resurrected. Hence, Strauss thinks, the gospel of John felt the need to tell the story of Lazarus, with even more emotional details than in the tales of synoptic gospels, Lazarus coming from a family of friends of Jesus. John’s tale is, according to Strauss, an even more outrageous miracle, since Lazarus had been dead for a few days and was said to be already smelling, and furthermore, the divine Jesus of John was said to know beforehand that Lazarus was dead and was able to just order Lazarus to rise.

Even if the outrageous nature of the miracle and the lack of any similar story in the synoptic gospels would not already prove enough that the story of resurrected Lazarus was fabrication, Strauss argues, further evidence would be that John had combined in it completely disparate details from Luke’s gospel (Martha and Mary, sisters of Lazarus, appear in a story of their own, while Lazarus is seen only in an allegorical fable about death). Strauss also rejects all attempts to explain the story naturalistically, for instance, Lazarus going through a mere false death and Jesus just trying his luck calling him, or the three siblings trying to make a joke on Jesus, because they do not seem psychologically convincing.

Not all miracles of Jesus centred on human beings. Jesus lived by the Sea of Galilee (despite its name, more like a lake), thus, Strauss states, it was natural to tell tales involving the lake. We have already mentioned the story of Jesus helping the fishermen and then asking them to be his disciples, and another example is the tale of Jesus asking Peter to find a coin in a fish for paying the temple tax. Strauss points out that this tale is intrinsically connected with the question of whether future Christians were supposed to pay for the maintenance of Jewish priesthood, and since later Mark and Luke felt no need to ponder such issues, they dropped the tale.

Other tales about the Sea of Galilee involve boats. In one tale, Jesus was said to calm a raging storm, when sailing on the lake. Strauss suggests that this tale refers back to Psalms, where God was said to calm the raging storm, which symbolised Israel during time of trials: similarly Jesus was seen as the symbolic saviour of early Christians in trying times. Another tale involved Jesus coming in a miraculous manner to save the disciples, who were stuck in a boat. Strauss explains the method Jesus took for his miracle in this tale (walking on water) by noting that while Moses had crossed sea by parting the waters, Jesus wasn’t going to cross the Sea of Galilee (his destination was a boat on the sea), so the only possible reference to the Old Testament the gospel writers could have used was that of God moving on waters in Genesis.

The Israelites were told to have been provided manna and occasionally even meat in the desert. Thus, Strauss makes the comparison, Jesus was naturally rumored to have provided ample food for hungry people, with manna and meat being replaced by bread and fish, as more familiar to the local conditions. Strauss also suggests that the tale also reflects the custom of the early Christians to share their evening meals.

In addition to manna, Moses also found water in the desert. While there is no exactly similar tale in the gospels, Strauss finds a natural analogy in John’s tale of Jesus turning water into wine, just like Jesus replaced mere baptism of water with a baptism of spirit. Strauss also surmises that the tale might hearken back to the tale of Moses turning water into blood, thus already pointing to the link of seeing wine as the blood of Jesus.

Strauss singles out the story of Jesus making a fig tree without any fruits wither as the only tale of a destructive miracle in the gospels. He points out that the tale has obvious connotations about the sterility of Judaistic faith (many of the Old Testament prophets had compared Jews to a fruitless figtree), and while Matthew and Mark presented the story as a straightforward miracle, Luke made it into a parable.

The face of Moses was said to be alighted by his constant communion with God, thus, Strauss explains, it was natural that the early Christians would assume that the face of Jesus had to be similarly lighted. The outcome of this expectation was the tale of the transfiguration of Jesus on a mountain, where he had taken only his closest disciples, just like only a select group of priests followed Moses to the mountain. To top Moses, not just the face, but also the clothes of Jesus brightened, and Moses was also told to be there to greet Jesus, showing how Christianity stood higher than Jewish law. Strauss notes that the story mentions also the presence of the prophet Elijah, probably because Elijah was prophesied to come before Messiah (Strauss notes that the gospels also tried to explain this prophecy by Jesus identifying John the Baptist with Elijah, when the disciples asked about it, but at the same time this second explanation created a contradiction – why should the disciples ask about the prophecy of Elijah, if they had already met him on the mountain?). John dropped the tale of transfiguration in its current form, Strauss conjectures, because he was not that interested of the Jewish background of Jesus.

Moving on to the final moments of the story of Jesus, Strauss notes that his arrival to Jerusalem on a donkey was clearly suggested by a prophecy of Zachariah. Strauss is not completely against the historicity of the tale – Jesus might have done this as an obvious publicity stunt – but he notes that Matthew already embellished the tale by having Jesus ride unbelievably on two donkeys, just because Zachariah appeared to suggest it. Another Old Testament passage suggested that the Messiah should miraculously know where to find a steed, thus, Strauss continues, the gospel writers made Jesus send two boys to fetch the donkey from a place he hadn’t visited before.

Connected to the story of Jesus in Jerusalem is a story of him being anointed by a woman while he was having a meal in the house of a person called Simon. Strauss points out that this story went through considerable changes in the different gospels. The original story, according to him, was the one in Matthew and Mark, where the disciples spoke against the anointing of the head of Jesus, because this wasted money that could have been given to the poor. Luke, Strauss continued, moved this story away from Bethany, into a house of a Pharisee called Simon, where a sinful woman anointed the head of the Jesus (Strauss suggests that Luke derived some of the details from a lost Hebrew gospel, which according to later sources included a story of a sinful woman anointing Jesus). Finally, John combined to Luke’s story from the same gospel the Bethanian sisters Martha and Mary, who washed the feet of Jesus with her hair – with John, it was Mary of Bethany who anointed the feet (and not the head) of Jesus, and the only local man mentioned is the resurrected brother Lazarus.

While the story of the meal in Bethany was important for the early Christians as indicating the anointment of Jesus, the story of the last meal of Jesus was also important as a precursor of Eucharist. Strauss points out that while the synoptic gospels added a miracle to the proceedings by Jesus setting out the disciples to find a place to stay without previously knowing where they would discover it, just like in the earlier case of the donkey, John’s account was lacking of any miracles in both accounts. A further difference is that while the synoptic gospels identified the last meal as the Jewish passah meal, John placed it on a day before passah, probably because John wanted Jesus to play the role of the sacrificial lamb. Again in difference from synoptic gospels, John added a passage of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples, and while all gospels agreed that Jesus miraculously knew that someone was to betray him, only John made Jesus even spur the betrayer to action. Strauss also points out that John again used the opportunity to raise the beloved disciple over others.

From the last meal, the action turns to the Mount of Olives, where Strauss finds the tale of Jesus knowing beforehand that he would suffer completely unhistorical. He points out that in Matthew and Mark Jesus was tempted three times to escape his fate – just like he had faced three temptations in the wilderness – while Luke contracted this to a single moment of weakness, but added the detail of an angel comforting Jesus. Strauss notes that John was not pleased with the idea of divine Logos being anguished and so replaced the story with another one, where Jesus was transfigured by God.

The next bit of the familiar tale is that of the imprisonment of Jesus. Strauss notes that all the gospels disagree on the details. Most original is again John, who suggested that it was the devil imprisoning Jesus. The role of betrayer was also reduced by John, who made Jesus proclaim himself saying three times “I am”: Strauss suggests this is a reference to the name of God in the Old Testament – Jehovah or “I am” – and thus again a hint of the supposed divinity of Jesus.

Strauss finds further reasons to assume that the gospel writers were trying to accommodate their tale to agree with the Old Testament passages: the traitor dies by suicide, as told in the Book of Samuel, thirty silver coins come from the book of Zacharias and their final use to buy the Field of Blood derives from Psalms. The few historical details, like the name of the Field of Blood or the names of high priests questioning Jesus, seem to be mere embellishments to make the whole more convincing, Strauss adds.

A clear tendency of all the gospels is, Strauss says, to try to exonerate Jesus as being accused by false evidence and to place all the blame of his death on the Jews, de-emphasising the role of Pontius Pilate. Of course, the means to do it vary: Matthew made Pilate wash his hands and added the story of the wife of Pilate asking him to release Jesus, Luke added the unhistorical questioning by Herod, probably just to show that even Jewish authorities found no fault in Jesus, and John made Pilate even beg the Jewish crowd that they would find the flogging of Jesus an acceptable punishment.

The synoptic gospels made a man help Jesus carry his cross, but John again emphasised the divinity of Jesus by making him carry it all by himself: still, Strauss adds, the story as told in the synoptic gospels was probably also not a historical truth, since its obvious point was to spur Christians to emulate Jesus in carrying their burdens. Other remarkable differences between gospels arise in the last words of Jesus: Matthew and Mark emphasised his human suffering, while Luke and John did not want Jesus to show any weakness in face of death, Luke making him show mercy toward his condemners and John emphasising again the importance of the favourite disciple by making Jesus entrust his mother to that disciple.

Strauss points out a common trope that deaths of heroes are accompanied by cataclysmic events, when even nature mourns for their loss. Thus, the synoptic gospels spoke of an eclipse and an earthquake and temple veil breaking. Matthew was even willing to say that the death of Jesus made dead people rise from their graves, foreboding the general resurrection awaited by the early Christians. John’s gospels did not include any such obvious fabulations, but instead told that when the side of Jesus was pierced, blood and water flew out: Strauss explains that the movement of the blood was meant to show that the body of Jesus still worked after his death, while the water was a symbol of divine spirit.

It was told from early on that Jesus had been buried – even Paul mentioned it in his letters – but the gospel writers added the detail that the burial was done by a rich disciple, probably, Strauss suggests, because it fit in with a passage from Isaiah. Jews had suggested that the story of finding the tomb of Jesus empty was just a sign of his disciples stealing the body, thus, Strauss explains, Matthew added a story, where the Jewish priests ask Pilate to send soldiers to guard the grave, so that the disciples would not try to do this. Strauss thinks this addition is unhistorical, because it is unconvincing that the priests would have remembered that Jesus promised to arise on the third death after his death, when the disciples apparently had not heard of this promise and were thus struck by grief because of his death. Indeed, later gospels dropped this story, because they were not anymore interested in arguing such things with Jews.

The final moments of gospels all told very different tales. Matthew recounted that two women, both called Mary, visited the grave, where an angel had scared the guards and lifted the stone from the grave. The angel told them to go to Galilee, where the disciples had returned, and when going there, the ladies met on the road Jesus, who told them he would be with them to the end of days. Matthew mentioned nothing of ascension, Strauss suggests, because people were still having mental visions of Jesus resurrected, just like Paul said in his letters.

By the time of Mark and Luke, Strauss continues, the memory of these visions had faded away and so a story of Jesus returning to heaven was needed. Mark’s story of resurrection followed Matthew closely, but stopped with the story of the women going to Galilee, adding only a short and undetailed mention of ascension, which might not have even been a physically observable event. In Luke’s account, the disciples hadn’t yet returned to Galilee, making it possible that Peter also visited the empty grave, and while there was no meeting of Jesus with the two Maries, he did meet two disciples on their way to Emmaus and showed them his wounds. Finally, Luke added the most detailed and very visual story of Jesus ascending to heaven with two angels.

John’s ending followed first Luke’s, but reworked some details, for instance, by adding two meetings with disciples, allowing the famous line about doubting Thomas asking for physical proof of the resurrection – Strauss notes that this is a perfect example of John’s gospel combining the most crude materialism (wounds of Jesus) with the most immaterial spiritualism (the power of faith without seeing). Just like John felt no need to tell how divine Logos became human, he felt no need to add how Jesus returned to his heavenly abode, merely emphasising again in the end that true faith requires no observable proof.

Having gone through all the mythical additions to the historical kernel, Strauss points out that we know as little about the historical Jesus as we know about such semi-legendary figures as Pythagoras. In comparison, Strauss notes, we know a lot more about Socrates, who lived four hundred years before Jesus, mainly because Socrates lived in a more literary culture and had the advantage of two immediate followers, Plato and Xenophon, writing about him, so that we can corroborate the writings of one against the writings of another, and agreeing in enough details about the major aspects of his life and teaching. On the contrary, Strauss points out, the authors of Matthew and John were no immediate disciples of Jesus and had very conflicting ideas about the nature of Jesus. Strauss adds that our knowledge of the life of Jesus has often been compared to our knowledge of the life of Shakespeare, but in the latter case we have his works to read, while we are not really certain what in the gospels derives originally from Jesus. Strauss is certain that there are some sayings we can truly credit to Jesus, but we cannot say with utmost certainty what they are, while gospels do include much that we know cannot be true, like all the miracles.

Strauss is still not willing to throw the gospels completely away. It is not the historical person that is important for him, but the ideal of Jesus as an image of a perfect human being. Strauss suggests Jesus wasn’t the first of such human paradigms and he won’t be the last. True, even such paradigms do reflect the developmental phase of their time, and Strauss indicates few shortcomings of Jesus: his cultural surroundings were not yet suitable for showing how to live as a citizen of a good community and he was not civilised enough to appreciate higher culture and art. Despite these shortcomings, Strauss is happy to accept the ideal of Jesus as a stepping stone toward more perfect humanity.