Introduction

The Essence and Significance of Philosophy

There was a time, and it is not so far behind us, when the prevailing view held that philosophy had outlived its usefulness, that it had been displaced by the positive sciences. Let it be conceded that philosophy once had its time and justification, serving as a sort of preliminary step toward scientific knowledge. Yet now, all its attempts to grasp the world and its things through general speculation are regarded as outdated, as if their time had passed. Only as a harmless pastime for barren minds, incapable of real scientific work, can philosophy perhaps prolong its innocent existence for a while longer. But engaging with it is by no means considered a duty for those who lay claim to a true scientific education.

One might leave unexamined the question of whether philosophy itself bears some blame for this neglect that befell it around the middle of the present century. It is, after all, a plausible assumption. Nowhere was this disdain more pronounced than in Germany, where it followed the reign of speculative philosophy. It is, therefore, easy to suppose a causal connection here, to see in the scorn for all philosophy a reaction against the excessive self-exaltation with which speculative philosophy and its adherents offended both scientific inquiry and common human reason. For a long time, the German reader allowed himself to be intimidated by harsh words and impressed by obscure profundity; for a long time, fearing accusations of superficiality, he viewed with suspicion all that he could comprehend. Finally, he mustered the courage to disdain everything that evoked these painful memories. Had Hegel lived as long as Kant, he might himself have outlived this backlash. As it was, others—like Fechner and Lotze—suffered from the public's indifference, though they were neither responsible for it nor deserving of it.

Meanwhile, a new era has arrived. If the contempt for philosophy has not yet entirely vanished, it can at least be said that for the last third of the century it no longer stands as the characteristic feature it was for the second. Philosophy has begun to recover from public neglect; it is once again drawing interest from ever-wider circles, and its relationship with scientific inquiry has become more amicable once more.

Thus, the natural state of things returns. For, to speak plainly, philosophy is not something that has outlasted itself, nor is it merely the concern of a few empty or abstruse minds. On the contrary, it is a matter for all times and all people. One could even say that philosophy is not something one may choose to have or not have: any person who rises above the unreflective animal existence of day-to-day life possesses, in some sense, a philosophy. The only question is—what kind of philosophy? Is it a patchwork of fragmented knowledge and stray thoughts, or is it a well-considered one, grounded in a thorough examination of reality?

The distinction between human intellectual life and that of animals lies in the ability to engage in theoretical contemplation and the orientation toward the whole. An animal sees and hears, perhaps even has representations and memories, but it does not dwell on them; they come and go in isolation, as they arise naturally from the course of events, and they serve only as motivations for action. In human beings, intellectual activity breaks free from serving mere needs; a theoretical interest awakens within them. They gather and examine the elements provided by perception and do not rest until they have linked them into a unified vision of things. While practical life and technical pursuits are content with fragments of knowledge, theoretical interest is directed toward the whole. Thus, philosophy emerges. In its broadest sense, philosophy is nothing other than the ever-recurring attempt to achieve a unified understanding of the forms and connections, the meaning and significance of all things.

It is evident that, in this sense, every nation and every individual, at least every normally developed individual, possesses a philosophy. Even the ordinary person from the common folk has a philosophy: perhaps its basic contours were provided by their catechism, but they have an answer to the question of the origin and purpose of the world and human life. In this sense, even primitive peoples possess a philosophy: both the Native American and the New Zealander have formed a certain conception of the world as a whole and its structure in space. They have answers to the questions of where things come from and where they are headed, and they see a meaningful connection between cosmic events and human life.

In this sense, philosophy is, therefore, a universal human activity. Wherever spiritual life exists, there too is philosophy.