Lectures on the Proofs of the Existence of God/Lecture 12
In the previous Lecture the notion or conception of absolute necessity was explained—of absolute necessity, I repeat. Very often absolute means nothing more than abstract, and very frequently, too, it is imagined that when the word absolute is used everything is said that is necessary, and that no further definition can or ought to be given. As a matter of fact it is just with this definition that we are chiefly concerned. Absolute necessity is abstract, the abstract pure and simple, inasmuch as it depends on itself and does not subsist in or from or through an Other. But we have seen that it is not only adequate to its notion or conception, whatever that notion be, so that we were able to compare this notion and its external existence; but that it represents this very adequacy itself. Thus what might be taken as the external aspect is contained in itself, so that this very fact that it depends on itself, this identity or reference to self which constitutes the isolation of things in virtue of which they are contingent, is a form of independence which again is really a want of independence. Possibility is an abstraction of the same kind. A thing is possible if it does not contradict itself, that is, it is what is merely identical with itself, something in which there is no kind of identity with an Other, while, on the other hand, it has not its Other within itself. Contingency and possibility differ only in this, that the contingent has in addition a definite existence. The possible has only the possibility of existence. But the contingent itself has an existence which has absolutely no value beyond being a possibility; it is, but quite as much it is not. In the case of contingency, the nature of determinate Being or existence belonging to it is, as has been already remarked, so far evident that it is seen at the same time to have the character of something which is virtually a nullity, and consequently the transition to its Other, to the Necessary, is already expressed in that existence itself. It is an instance of the same thing as we have in abstract identity, which is a simple reference to self; it is known as a possibility, and being a possibility it is recognised that it is not yet anything. The fact that something is possible does not really imply anything. Identity is characterised as sterility, and that is what it really is.
What is wanting in this characteristic finds its complement, as we have seen, in the characteristic which is its antithesis. Necessity is not abstract, but truly absolute, solely in virtue of the fact that it contains the connection with an Other in itself, that it is self-differentiation, but a differentiation which has disappeared in something higher and is ideal. It consequently contains what belongs to necessity in general, but it is distinguished from this latter as being external and finite, and as involving a connection having reference to something else which remains Being and has the value of Being, and so is merely dependence. It goes by the name of necessity too, inasmuch as mediation is in general essential to necessity. The connection of its Other with something else, which is what constitutes it, does not get support from the ends for which it exists. Absolute necessity, on the other hand, transforms any such relation to an Other into a relation to itself, and consequently produces what is really inner harmony with itself.
Spirit rises above contingency and external necessity, just because these thoughts are in themselves insufficient and unsatisfying. It finds satisfaction in the thought of absolute necessity, because this latter represents something at peace with itself. Its result as result, however, is—it is so, it is simply necessary. Thus all aspiration, all effort, all longing after an Other, have passed away, for in it the Other has disappeared, there is no finitude in it, it is absolutely complete in itself, it is infinite and present in itself, there is nothing outside of it. It has in it no limit, for its nature is to be with itself, or at home with itself. It is not the act of rising to this necessity on the part of Spirit which in itself produces satisfaction. The satisfaction has reference to the goal Spirit tries to reach, and the satisfaction is in proportion to its ability to reach this goal.
If we pause for a moment to consider this subjective satisfaction, we find that it reminds us of what the Greeks found in the idea of subjection to necessity. That Man should yield to inevitable destiny was the advice of the wise, and this was in particular the truth expressed by the tragic chorus, and we admire the repose of their heroes and the calmness with which they freely and undauntedly accept the lot which destiny has assigned to them. This necessity, and the aims of their own wills which are annihilated by it, the compulsory force of this destiny and freedom, appear as the opposing elements, and seem to leave no room for reconciliation nor for any kind of satisfaction. In fact the play of this antique necessity is shrouded in a sadness which is neither driven away by defiance nor disfigured by any feeling of bitterness, and all lamentation is rather suppressed by silence than stilled by the healing of the wounded heart. The element of satisfaction found by Spirit in the thought of necessity is to be sought for in this alone, that Spirit simply abides by that abstract result of necessity expressed in the words, “it is so,” a result brought about by Spirit within itself. In this pure is there is no longer any content; all ends, all interests, all wishes, even the concrete feeling of life itself, have disappeared and vanished in it. Spirit produces this abstract result in itself just because it has given up this particular content of its will, the very substance of its life, and has renounced everything. It thus transforms into freedom the compulsion exercised upon it by fatality. For this force or compulsion can lay hold of it only by seizing on those sides of its nature which in its concrete existence have an inner and an outer determinate Being. As connected with external existence, Man is under the influence of external force in the shape of other men, of circumstances, and so on; but external existence has its roots in what is inward, in his impulses, interests, and aims; they are the bonds, morally justifiable and morally ordained, or, it may be, not justifiable, which bring him into subjection to force. But the roots belong to his inner life, they are his; he can tear them out of his heart; his will, his freedom represent that power of abstraction from everything whereby the heart can make itself the grave of the heart. When the heart thus inwardly renounces itself, it leaves to force nothing upon which it can lay hold. What is crushed by force is a form of existence which is devoid of heart, an externality in which force can no longer affect Man: he is outside of the sphere in which force can strike.
It has been previously remarked that the result, it is so, is the result of the necessity, to which Man clings; and he abides by it as a result, that is, in the sense that it is he who produces this abstract Being. This is the other moment of necessity, mediation through the negation of otherness. This Other is the determinate in general, which we have seen in the form of inner existence, the giving up of concrete aims and interests; for they are not only the ties which bind Man to externality, and consequently bring him into subjection to it, but they themselves represent the particular element, and are external to what is most inward, the self-thinking pure universality, the pure relation of freedom to itself. It is the strength of this freedom that it can in this abstract way comprise within itself and put within itself that particular element which is outside of itself, and can thus make it into something external in which it can no longer be disturbed. The reason why we men are unhappy, or unsatisfied, or simply fretful, is because of the division within us, that is, because of the contradiction represented by the fact that these impulses, aims, and interests, or simply these demands, wishes, and reflections are in us, and that at the same time our existence has in it what is the Other, the antithesis of these. This disunion or unrest in us can be removed in a twofold manner. On the one hand, our outward existence, our condition, the circumstances which affect us and in which our interests in general are involved, may be brought into harmony with the roots of their interests in ourselves, a harmony which is experienced in the form of happiness and satisfaction. On the other hand, in the event of there being a disunion between the two, and consequently in the event of unhappiness, instead of satisfaction there is a natural repose of the heart, or, where the injury goes deeper and affects an energetic will and its just claims, the heroic strength of the will produces at the same time a contentment by taking kindly to the actual state of things and by submitting to what actually is, and this is a yielding in which the mind does not in a one-sided way let go its hold on what is external, circumstances, or the actual condition of things, because they have been overcome and are overpowered, but which gives up by an act of its own will its inner determinateness and allows it to go. This freedom of abstraction is not without an element of pain; but the pain is brought down to the level of natural pain, and has not in it the pain of penitence, the pain attaching to the rebellious sense of wrong-doing, just as it has no consolation or hope. But then it is not in need of consolation, for consolation presupposes a claim which is still maintained and asserted and does not in one way really satisfy, while looked at in another way, it seeks a compensation, and in the act of hoping, a desire for something has been kept in reserve.
But it is just here that we find that moment of sadness already referred to, and which diffuses itself over this act, whereby necessity is transfigured and becomes freedom. The freedom here is the result of mediation through the negation of things finite. As abstract Being, the satisfaction gained is empty reference to self, the inner unsubstantial solitude of self-consciousness.
This defect lies in the determinate character of the result as well as of the starting-point. It is the same in both of these, that is to say, it is just the indeterminateness of Being. The same defect which has been noted as present in the form taken by the process of necessity, as this process exists in the region of the volition of subjective Spirit, will be found, too, in the process when it is an objective content for the thinking consciousness. The defect, however, does not lie in the nature of the process itself; and we have now to consider that process in the theoretical form, which is the point we have specially to deal with.