Part One

Origin of the Idea of Being

CHAPTER 3

Origin of the idea of being

413. After establishing the existence and learning the nature of the idea of being, we must now investigate its origin, that is, how it is given in our mind.
I will first indicate where it does not come from and then where it does come from.

414. To see the truth of this statement clearly, we must examine the special characteristics of the idea of being, which are very different from anything sensations can present to us.
Because each of these characteristics is inexplicable in any system claiming to derive the idea of being from sensations, they provide an irrefutable demonstration of the invalidity of this claim.

415. When we think of an ens in all its universality or even of some particular ens, we are thinking of it only in itself, that is, as it is. Its relationship with us or with anything else is not part of our thought;(4) we think of it absolutely.
This way of perceiving things as they are in themselves, independently of any relationship with anything else, is common to everything our mind can conceive; we perceive things impartially, as it were, just as they are and with their own grades of being. The thought by which we perceive them as they are can be reduced to the following formula: 'This thing (that I conceive in my mind) has such a grade or mode of existence.' Existence, the sole term of reference of such a mental conception, is common to everything we perceive; it is also the term to which everything experienced in our feeling is related. It is equally common to all perceived things because all are perceived and conceived as entia, that is, as having existence in a certain degree or mode indicated to us, let us say, by our senses.

416. But sensations, I maintain, are incapable of making us perceive objectively, in the way characteristic of intellectual perception. In fact, sensations are only particular modifications or experiences in our own make-up; what is felt exists as such only relatively to us. Sensations, therefore, can make us feel only the relationship to us of external things (if there are any, but I am not discussing this yet), and the power they have to modify us. If we were limited to sensations alone, the subject of this power could never be present to us as it is in itself. Existence in itself is not felt by us because the expressions 'to exist in itself' and 'to be felt' indicate what is absolute and what is relative, opposite concepts which directly exclude one another.

In fact, the mere existence in itself of a thing does not require and imply any sensation produced in some other thing; sensation, which does not include the idea of something existing in itself, indicates only our experience and its term.
Sensations, therefore, cannot make us perceive a thing as it is in itself but only in relationship to us: sensation means simply some modification in us, while idea means mental conception of something that exists, independently of any modification or experience in another being.

The idea of being, therefore, is not given to us in any way by sensations.

417. To avoid confusion, we define our use of certain words:

Sensation therefore is subjective, sense perception is extrasubjective; idea is object; intellective perception is objective.

418. It is difficult for us to separate sense perception from intellective perception because, as reasoning beings, we habitually make the second follow immediately on the first; the two are naturally linked in us and taken as one so that very accurate observation is needed to distinguish them.

419. Another reason for our extreme difficulty in separating sensations from ideas and forming an exact concept of each without confusing them, is our need for an intellective perception or an idea in order to know or reason about anything. If we have no idea of a thing, we have no information about it, we cannot think or talk about it. We see therefore that in order to know a sensation, think about it and discuss our thought, we need an idea or intellectual perception of a sensation, which of itself is unintelligible, an object neither of thought nor of reason.
Every time we intend to talk about sensations, therefore, we necessarily unite some idea with them. This necessity of thinking about sensations by means of an idea makes it very difficult for us to understand the need to isolate a sensation from its idea in order to gain a clear concept of it.

420. It is a fact that we particularly resist the strenuous mental effort of isolating whatever is foreign to sensation, even the idea by which we conceive it, because sensation by itself is unintelligible. This rarely perceived difficulty is found in our knowledge of material entia, or of any ens that is not an idea. In themselves such entia are obscure and incomprehensible; separated from ideas, they have an existence impossible for us to understand.

421. In addition to the difficulty we meet in forming a clear concept both of bodies and of sensations, there is a special difficulty connected with the concept of sensations.
Sensations, once separated from the ideas with which they are conceived, are unknown, as I said. But this fact is very hard to accept. Because sensations, as modifications felt essentially by our spirit, are always accompanied by pleasure or pain, it seems impossible for them to be unknown. This great difficulty comes precisely from what we said earlier about our habit of perceiving sensations intellectually as soon as we have them; we are entia endowed with intellect and reason, and what we feel is also apprehended intellectively.

Furthermore, even if we were to have a pure sensation without any accompanying idea - as seems to happen when we feel something without being aware of it because our mind is occupied with other things - such a sensation could not help us form an exact concept of itself because we would have neither understood it nor considered it; relative to our understanding it would not exist at all, and could not, therefore, be thought or reasoned about.

422. The concept of a sensation unaccompanied by an idea can be formed only indirectly as follows: 1. we perceive a sensation intellectually, for example, the colour red; 2. in this sensation we have joined intimately the idea and the sensation: the idea is essentially knowledge, the sensation something made known; 3. we then analyse this act of our intellectual perception, that is, we analyse our idea of the sensation of red and separate the idea that makes the sensation known from the sensation known through the idea; 4. we conclude that the sensation without the idea can only be an unknown entity; it is known only through the idea, and by separating the idea, we have removed what makes the sensation present to our mind - in a word, we have removed the form of that knowledge and left only its matter; 5. finally we direct our attention to this matter and see that it is a sensation, a modification of our spirit different from external bodies which, as such, are not only not known per se but not even felt.

423. The simple idea of being is not the perception of some subsistent thing (cf. 406-409), but the intuition of possible beings, the possibility of things.
Our sensations provide only modifications of our spirit coming from subsistent things; merely possible things have no power to act on our organs and produce sensations in them. Sensations, therefore, have nothing in common with our idea of being and cannot in any way furnish us with it.
As we saw, the same reason determines the impossibility of any image of the idea of being (cf. 396-397).

424. The idea of being comprehends or at least implies two elements so united that the idea could not exist without either of them. These elements are: 1st. possibility; 2nd. some indeterminate thing to which possibility can be referred.
Just as it is impossible to think of anything which is logically impossible, it is also impossible to think of possibility alone, without understanding it as the possibility of something.
Hence the idea of being, although perfectly simple and indivisible in itself, has or implies two mental elements, that is, elements assignable by the mind alone.

425. Examination of the nature of one of these elements (existence, or something indeterminate) has provided the first demonstration; examination of the other element (possibility) has provided the second demonstration.
The first element, existence, or anything whatsoever in so far as it has a mode of existence, cannot be perceived by sense, which perceives a being not in so far as it exists, but only in so far as it acts. The second element, possibility cannot be perceived by sense because what is merely possible cannot produce sensations: that which does not yet actually exist cannot act.

426. We must now consider possible being on the one hand and sensation on the other.
Every organic sensation, with its root in an extended organ, will be found to have some extension. On the contrary, anything possible intuited by the mind is perfectly simple and free from bodily solidity.
This characteristic of simplicity consists in the absence of anything material or of any likeness with matter, and in the absence of anything extended or of any likeness with extension. It is directly opposed to the nature of real sensation which cannot therefore be a source in any way of the extremely simple light of the mind.

427. We shall continue our comparison between possible being and concrete sensations.
Every concrete sensation resides in a single place, cut off from and incommunicable with other sensations. For example, the pain I feel in one of my fingers has nothing to do with a similar pain experienced by someone else in the same finger. The two sensations are separated by the limitations imposed by place and real subsistence.

On the contrary, being, or an ens which shines before the mind in a state of mere possibility, is not in one place rather than another. It can be actuated in many places if its reality is such as to occupy space; it can be multiplied indefinitely even if its nature is not subject to the limitations of place.
For example, the mind can contemplate the human body in its possibility. This possible body remains present to the mind even if its subsistence is actuated in various places, and multiplied indefinitely. Real bodies are multiple, while the concept or idea of body remains constantly one. The mind - several minds, if you wish - sees it as identical in all the infinite human bodies that can be thought of as subsisting.
The nature of real things, therefore, to which sensations belong, and the nature of the simple idea are opposed to one another. The latter cannot be found in the former, nor can it be produced by them.

428. Every ens, considered in its logical possibility, is universal and necessary.
There is no repugnance in the thought of an indefinite number of real, subsistent entia, all in conformity with my one idea. Every idea is a light in which I can know any number of entia that subsist or will subsist in correspondence with it. Every idea therefore is universal, infinite.
On the other hand, every single sensation is particular: everything I feel in it is limited to that sensation. It is impossible to find the universal in sensation, or to draw the universal from it.

429. Something similar can be said about the characteristic of necessity; what I contemplate as possible is also necessary, because it is impossible to think that what is possible could ever be impossible. Real sensations, however, can be or not be. They are accidental, contingent, and without any element which would prompt the mind to think of some absolute necessity. Consequently, the idea of being, or of possible ens, cannot be drawn from sensations.

430. The two characteristics of universality and necessity, laid down by Kant and prior to him by ancient thinkers as the criteria of a priori knowledge (cf. 304-309, 324-326), that is, knowledge that cannot come from our senses, are not the ultimate criteria of a priori knowledge. They are partial criteria, derived by an exact analysis from the idea of being, the unique form of knowledge and the source of all a priori knowledge.

431. This proposition, a corollary of what has already been said, is very helpful for making known the nature of ideas.
We have already seen that we think only possibility in the pure idea, which indicates nothing about the subsistence of things. Subsistence is proper to another faculty of the human spirit, different from that of ideas (cf. 405-406). We have also shown that the possibility of something extends to its unlimited repetition, and that it cannot be thought not to be. The characteristics of universality and necessity, therefore, are contained in that of possibility (cf. 428-429).
Consequently every idea is consequently universal and necessary.
It is always the idea of being, clothed with determining qualities drawn from experience, which provides us with a quantity of more or less determinate ideas or concepts. These concepts, however, represent merely possible, non-subsistent entities.

For example, generic and specific ideas, such as the concepts of human being, animal, tree, stone, and so on, which do not indicate individuals in any way, are only the idea of possible ens clothed with the determinations and qualities common to human beings, animals, trees, stones, etc., and given to us through experience. If the idea were clothed with these ultimate qualities, (for example, if the idea of a tree were endowed with all the qualities necessary for its subsistence), it would still remain void of the act of subsistence itself, and therefore something possible.
All these more or less general ideas, therefore, represent merely possible entia, not real entia, and share: 1. universality and 2. necessity, the characteristics of possibility.

In fact, every idea is both universal in relationship to the possible, infinite individuals that can be formed on the model offered by that idea, and necessary for the same class of individuals because no individual of the class can exist without possessing what is presented by the idea. It would be absurd to imagine an individual in a given class without attributing to it the constitutive qualities of the same class.

432. From this observation we see more clearly the origin of Plato's system of ideas.
He had noted that our ideas of things contain some necessity and universality and concluded that our ideas had to be innate because sensation offers nothing necessary and universal.
But his conclusion was too hasty. He had not discovered how to break ideas down, separating what is formal in them from what is material. Such an analysis would have revealed to him that all our ideas are indeed endowed with some necessity and universality, which however is participated necessity and universality.

If he had gone further still, he would have seen that these two admirable characteristics, necessity and universality, are drawn from a single idea, superior to all other ideas. This one idea, essentially containing within itself the two characteristics of necessity and universality, without drawing them from other ideas, is being. All generic and specific ideas are simply this one idea clothed with various determinations received as a result of the experience of our internal or external sense. If Plato had seen this, he would have discovered that:

1. All ideas are composed of two elements: a) an invariable element, common to all ideas, the idea of being, and b) a variable element, that is, the determinations added to the idea of being.

2. The part which could not come from the experience of the senses was not the ideas as a whole, but their first element, the invariable part. Consequently, only a single innate idea need be granted in the human spirit to explain the origin of all our ideas.

3. The variable part in ideas(5) could be occasioned by the senses. Hence this part need not be qualified as innate, as seems to be the case in Plato's system.

I say, 'seems to be the case' because in some places he comes near to my theory.
This observation of mine about his system will either show what is exaggerated or erroneous in the system, or at least offer a guideline (if others accept it as such) for interpreting this great philosopher more accurately than has been done so far.

433. The mind which contemplates being, or any possible ens whatsoever, cannot think of it in any other way, and thus change it. It can only turn its attention from one possible ens to another. All possible entia, therefore, present themselves to the mind as immutable. It follows that the mind cannot think of any time in which a possible ens might not have been what it is now and always will be. The impossibility of thinking of change or limitation of time in a possible ens is what we call the immutability and eternity of the possible ens. These characteristics are not found in changeable, passing sensations. Sensations therefore cannot in any way enable the mind to think of them.

434. By analysing the idea of being in all its universality, and separating two elements within it, we have shown that it cannot come from the senses. These two elements consist of: 1. the notion of something; 2. the notion of the relationship of possibility (cf. 415-426).
Our analysis shows that the idea of being is furnished with the characteristics of simplicity, identity, universality, necessity, immutability and eternity, each of which allows us to demonstrate that the idea of being is not given to us by sensations (cf. 426-431). The same conclusion can be deduced from the third constitutive element of the idea of being in all its universality, that is, its total indetermination.

The arguments used hitherto are indeed valid for all ideas, and show that none of them, considered purely as an idea, can derive from sensations. Every idea is an ens intuited in its essence or possibility, without concrete existence (cf. 402-407), but furnished with all the characteristics we have indicated and distinguished (cf. 430-431). However, the idea of being in all in its universality provides another argument, which can be deduced from its indetermination.

435. A pure idea is constituted when the mind intuits an ens without reference to its subsistence, although the ens can have qualities which posit it in some particular genus and species.
Being in all its universality, however, is not only devoid of subsistence; it is also free of any differentiation and determination dependent upon species and genus. While other ideas are universal because they respond to an infinite number of equal, possible individuals, being in all its universality is even more universal because it extends to all possible species and genera without being limited by any of them.

Our real sensations cannot possess any likeness whatsoever with this kind of ideal being because they are all perfectly determinate. Sensations are produced by real, existing things which, like their effects, must be furnished with all the particular determinations and qualities necessary for their real, actual existence.

The idea of being in all its universality and sensations are, therefore, contrary to one another and mutually exclusive. Perfect indetermination is essential to the idea of merely possible, universal being; perfect determination, without which they would lack individuation and subsistence, is essential to sensations and the agents producing them. A stone, for example, could not exist without determinate form, weight, and so on. On the other hand, when we think of being in all its universality, we prescind from all such accidental and essential qualities of particular entia. The being I have in mind is not particular, but universal to the highest degree. It is, in other words, only the possibility of various entia, the possibility of infinite modes and grades of real existence which we do not enumerate, reflect on, or reach out to. Thinking of their possibility, we are in fact thinking of existence without reference to its modes, although we are satisfied that these modes, whatever they may be, will be found in really existent entia.

436. Nor can it be said that I am in possession of an indeterminate ens if I abstract the special determinations which individuate a particular agent from the qualities perceived by the senses alone. As we have seen repeatedly, sensations enable me to perceive only what is particular and proper, without any relationship, without what is common considered as common.

Sensations, therefore, do not bring me to know sensible things as entia, that is, as existing in themselves with their own grades of existence, nor as related to the common existence in which they share. With my sense I perceive only their action upon me, their sensible quality and the effect left in my sensory make-up where particular agents are separated from one another. Moreover, each action of an agent stands on its own, separate from every other action, because sense, which cannot refer an action to anything else, cannot experience an action except in isolation, nor extend itself beyond the limits of an action. If I had only sensations of sensible entia, without simultaneously perceiving them with my understanding, and then wished to abstract everything particular from the sensations, I would find myself left with nothing at all, rather than with an indeterminate ens. As the sensations and their causes vanished, I would remain bereft of everything. We have to understand this fact carefully, and consider it attentively, if we wish to form a correct idea of the human spirit and its way of acting.

But, as I said, this is extremely difficult because we never possess sensations alone (cf. 417-420). When we experience them, we perceive what is real and external with both sense and understanding. We do not analyse our sensations, therefore, but our ideas of bodies, and through abstraction find in them the existence, possibility and indetermination of ens. Although we think we find these things in pure sensations, they are found only in our ideas. We are not aware of having put them there because our understanding, as we have hinted elsewhere, perceives sensible things and all other entia in themselves, that is, in relation to being in which they all participate. This cannot be achieved by sense. Because of the outstanding importance of this truth, we shall deal with it again later.(6)

437. So far, our analysis of the idea of being has shown it to contain three inseparable elements, interconnected in such a way that one cannot be thought of without the others. These elements are: 1. something (ens); 2. the possibility of this something, of this ens; 3. indetermination. We have seen that none of these elementary concepts, or elements of a single idea, can be proffered by sensations because they are essentially different from them, to the point of mutual exclusion. On this basis, we gave three fundamental demonstrations of the following proposition: 'The idea of ens cannot be derived from sensations' (cf. 414, 424, 433, 435). Further analysis of the first two elements, especially that of possibility, showed it to contain other characteristics, all equally impossible to be deduced from sensation (cf. 426-433). If we were to analyse possible being further, we would find other things incompatible with sensation, and have more proofs that this idea cannot be found in or derived from sensation.

In this case we would encounter all those particular difficulties which confronted different philosophers in their search for the origin of ideas. I discussed these difficulties in the preceding two Sections and laid out the history of the problem, that is, the difficulty of determining the origin of the idea of substance, cause, relationship, etc. Carefully examined and analysed, these ideas ultimately come down to the one difficulty of finding what is present in the idea of being from which and on which all other ideas derive and depend.(7)

However, these ideas, which have occupied the minds of philosophers, will be dealt with later when I can better demonstrate how they originate from the idea of being joined with sensible experience. For the moment I will omit these further developments of proofs which could confirm the above proposition.

438. If the idea of being, and consequently all other ideas,(8) cannot come to us from external sensations, it follows that it cannot come from feeling, which is simply a permanent, interior sensation. Although feeling is characterised by special qualities, the arguments already employed to prove that the idea of being cannot come from bodily sensations are applicable to it [App., no. 1].

439. The internal feeling of myself, therefore, has to be distinguished from the idea or intellectual perception of myself. The feeling of myself is simple. The idea, on the other hand, is made up of: 1. the feeling of myself, which is the matter of knowledge; and 2. the idea of being, the form to which the mind refers the feeling of myself and thus knows it, that is, it considers myself as an ens, and thinks it objectively, as it is in itself.
Myself is subject, and as such is wholly particular, related only to itself, a real, determinate ens. In order to know this subject or have an idea of it, I must conceive it objectively, that is, as referred to being, not to myself, just as I consider any other particular, sensible thing. Ens is, as it were, the common measure, and when I have referred what I feel to this standard, I feel and I know what I feel.

440. The feeling of myself gives me, therefore, the sensation of my existence, but not the idea of existence in all its universality. This feeling is indeed my own existence, but not therefore the intellective perception of my existence. This arises early within me, but comes about through an act by which I consider my own feeling as an ens with the same impartiality with which I would consider anything else. Classifying myself amongst entia, I find myself in their midst, and distinguish myself from others through the feeling of myself that marks me. Through the judgment made by my reason, I refer the idea of existence to this feeling.

441. Hence, although the feeling expressed by the pronoun myself is innate (because I must be innate to myself), the intellective perception of myself is acquired, and cannot be confused with my subsistence nor with the feeling constituting it.

442. The universal idea of myself is formed through the intellective perception of my own myself which, in turn, is formed through the idea of being (cf. 436).
In the order of ideas, therefore, the idea of being precedes the idea of myself. The former is necessary for the production of the latter.
This is a corollary following immediately from what was established when we showed that the first thing understood by our intellect in any object is being [App., no. 2].

443. Those, therefore, who make the idea of myself precede the idea of being in all its universality, seem to fall into this error because they have confused the intellective perception of myself, from which the general idea of myself is extracted, with the feeling present in myself. This feeling precedes acquired ideas, which are even more necessarily preceded by the idea of being.
Hence, Malebranche's error when he says that our soul comes to know itself only through feeling, not through idea.

He is quite right in maintaining that feeling and idea are two different things, but fails to see that feeling, unable in itself to form a cognition, certainly cannot form an intellective perception. Malebranche simply grants the matter of some cognition, which is informed by the idea of being in all its universality.(10)
If we had nothing but a feeling of ourselves, we could not reason about our soul and see it as an ens, that is, an object of our thought.

444. By Locke's reflection I understand the faculty by which our spirit fixes its attention on our external sensations or internal feeling (feeling includes here all the operations of our spirit felt by us). Such attention may be directed to the whole or any part of sensation and feeling, without however adding anything to it and creating a new object.

445. This way of explaining Locke's reflection is justified by comparing what he says about reflection with what he says about innate ideas, that is, I use Locke to explain himself. Indeed, his definition of reflection as 'the perception of the operations of our own mind within us, as it is employed about the ideas it has got (from the senses),'(11) is too equivocal to be of any systematic use. If it is simply the perception of the operations of our spirit on ideas given by our senses, ideas are presumed to be already formed; and because we cannot have ideas without the idea of being, this awkward idea must also be presumed, which is the point at issue. The difficulty has been overcome by a simple supposition, or rather has neither been seen nor faced. As a result Locke's reflection can proceed rapidly without trouble. But let us go back and look for a moment at the difficult path it has taken.

The first ideas were formed from sensation, but Locke does not tell us how and he is in no hurry to explain; he finds it enough to say: 'Our senses do convey all these ideas into the mind,' adding as his only words of explanation: 'I mean the senses from external objects convey into the mind what produces there those perceptions.'(12) This is not a satisfactory explanation; it is not even a satisfactory description of the fact of sensation. Locke is not interested in explaining how our sense causes the act by which our spirit first perceives sensibly and then intellectively. It is as if he were saying: 'Our sense produces the act by which our spirit feels and also the act by which it understands and forms ideas; I have no intention of embarrassing myself by showing you the difference between feeling and understanding, or by seeking what is needed for understanding to follow feeling. Whatever is required for producing these two facts and the difference between them, I start from the principle that all ideas come from sensation and reflection!' - this principle is the fundamental postulate of all Locke's philosophy. He seems to be saying: 'Let me use these two words, sensation and reflection, without having to define them accurately. Let them express all the causes of ideas with any meaning necessary for doing this. So, starting from this postulate, let us list all the ideas we have and refer them all to their source, sensation and reflection.'
A genuine analysis of Locke's Essay shows that the preparation of such a list is the sum total of the book that has caused such a stir in the world.

446. Our analysis shows the whole question of innate ideas to have been bypassed by Locke, as he would seem to have intended, had he not introduced matter extraneous to his argument and used the whole of the first book to refute every innate idea and principle. What he says at such length in his first book, however, gives us the right to determine the sense of his per se equivocal and, for our purposes, inconclusive definition of reflection. If there is no innate idea or principle in the human spirit, reflection, without adding anything to sensations, can only fix its attention on them to discover what they contain. And, as we said when commenting on Locke's definition, this is characteristic of Locke's reflection.

447. It is clear from what I have said that the idea of being does not come from Locke's reflection. I pointed out: 1. that the idea of being is not contained in any way in external sensations (cf. 414-436); 2. nor in our internal feeling (cf. 437-443); 3. that Locke's reflection is a faculty for observing and finding what is in our sensations or feeling without adding anything to either (cf. 444-446).
It follows, therefore, that Locke's reflection, unable to discover what is not present in our sensations or feeling, is incapable of finding the absent idea of being. Consequently, this idea has to come from some other source.

448. If I show that Locke's reflection is in fact impossible, I also show that the idea of being cannot come from it. If we recall the definition (cf. 444), it is not difficult to prove that his reflection is impossible. We have seen that it is 'the faculty by which our spirit fixes its attention on the whole or parts of our external or internal sensations, without adding anything and creating a new object.' It is true our attention can be held at random by the pleasure we have in sensations, but this is not Locke's reflection, whose aim is to acquire ideas, not to experience pleasure or enjoy it more easily. His reflection is a force of our spirit directed to and fixed on a part or complex of our feelings with the intention of finding new ideas in them. But can our spirit come to reflect in this way on its internal and external sensations without already possessing the universal ideas it is looking for?

Any similar reflection purposing to analyse sensations and extract ideas from them, has to divide, compose and find similar and dissimilar parts; in a word, it has to classify. But we cannot classify anything unless we presuppose the presence of the general idea constituting the class: it is impossible to compare and know what is similar or dissimilar in two individuals without first having the abstract idea common to both of them. Without this idea we would perceive two similar individuals, e.g. two red flags, but we would not think or reflect at all about their similarity. The two red sensations, perceived by our sensories, would remain separate, at least in time and place, as long as they were simply sensations with different, incommunicable existence (cf. vol. 1, 180-187). Locke's reflection, therefore, is impossible. How can we reflect on our sensations for the purpose of extracting ideas from them if we have no ideas to direct our spirit or enable it to unite and analyse sensations, and to move its attention freely from reflection to sensation?

449. When our spirit has only sensations but no ideas, instinct enables it to concentrate on any sensation for greater pleasure. This is not reflection properly speaking, but a reinforcement of attention on the part of our senses, not of our understanding. In fact, rather than attention it would be better to call it an application of instinctive, animal force, naturally captivated by the pleasant sensation. I do not have time to take this further, but what has been said is sufficient to distinguish it from intellectual attention, the sole source of reflection. In passing, let me add that sensible attention does not differ from the feeling faculty, and could, if necessary, be called a natural actuation of this faculty.

Such attention could have caused Condillac's error: he tried to reduce attention to sensation (cf. vol. 1, 73-74). He seems unaware that attention with this meaning is of two kinds: sensitive (that is, instinctive) and intellective (that is, willed). Having overlooked this observation, he came to the conclusion that all attention could be regarded as a mode of sensation.

450. We conclude that it is impossible to conceive mentally any reflection which is 1. directed to the formation of ideas, and 2. begins to act before there are any ideas to direct and regulate it. Reflection of this kind contains contradictory elements because it requires the formation of ideas without ideas.
But if Locke's reflection is impossible and absurd, neither the idea of being nor any other idea (which will always contain the idea of being) may be derived from it. This is what I intended to demonstrate.

451. Bodily sensation does not contain the idea of being (cf. 409-433), and cannot therefore offer it for our reflection, which only notes what is present in sensation without adding anything to it (cf. 444-450). We have yet to see whether the idea of being presents itself to our spirit in the act of sensation or reflection in such a way that its sudden appearance to our mind draws us to conceive and possess it.

452. Before dealing with the possibility of such an extraordinary phenomenon, we must note carefully whether it actually occurs or not.
Reid, for example, insists that he wishes simply to describe the fact of human knowledge without attempting to explain it. Having separated its parts, and taken all its circumstances into account, he has no doubt that, related to the existence of bodies, the fact is composed of three totally unconnected parts: 1. an impression on our bodily organs; 2. sensation; 3. perception of the existence of bodies, which follows immediately upon sensation (cf. vol. 1, 109 ss.). He believes he has observed a law of constant succession between these three occurrences: given the first, the second follows; given the second, the third follows. But, he continues, the first is unlike the second, the second unlike the third; moreover, none is connected with the other as cause and effect. Having described the fact, he now affirms that it is inexplicable and totally mysterious. This description of the perception of bodies certainly indicates his philosophical concern and effort, but we may doubt whether it is rigorous and complete. Let us examine it briefly.

453. I have no doubt that the three events are successive, and have to be distinguished from one another [App., no. 3]. Reid's account leaves no room for doubt here. I agree that the events bear no likeness to one another, and that one cannot be impressed on the other. Certainly, the impression made on the bodily organs is of its nature essentially different from sensation, while sensation has no likeness whatsoever with the perception of ens proper to our understanding [App., no. 4]. One event cannot therefore cause another by reproducing its own impression or copy. But does this entitle us to say that the fact under consideration is entirely inexplicable and mysterious in all its parts? [App., no. 5].

454. Reid maintains: given the sensation, I have a perception of existing bodies, although sensation is totally different from perception. This is inexact. Although we have seen that existence in all its universality is different from and opposed to sensation (cf. 402-429), our previous analysis of perception (cf. 411-417) shows that intellective perception is not totally different from sensations.(13)
I am not speaking here of the way in which a sensation takes place in us on the occasion of an external impression. That is outside our scope at present. I want to insist on the last part of the fact, that is, on the way in which the perception of bodies as existing things arises in the soul on the occasion of sensations. Reid considers this inexplicable, because he has not submitted it to sufficient analysis. Let us try to complete his work.

Thorough analysis indicates that intellective perception is not simple, like sensation, but made up of distinct parts. If it were simple, an inexplicable appearance in our souls would offer the only possibility of understanding its presence; a creation would be carried out in our spirit whenever a sensation occurred. But if it consists of different parts, it is not sufficient to declare it inexplicable. First, it should be split up into its parts; then, the relationship of the parts should be examined. Are they simulta neous or successive? How are they connected and so give rise to our perception of bodies?

I. As we have already seen, intellective perception is composed of three parts: 1. sensation, in which particular sensible qualities, separated from the predicate of quality and every other abstract notion, are terms of our sensory capacities; these sensible qualities establish the sign to which our thought turns its attention; 2. the idea of existence in all its universality: to conceive of a body mentally as something existing means classifying it amongst existent things. This in turn presupposes the idea of existence in all its universality which forms the class, as it were, of that which exists; 3. judgment, the relationship between sensation and the idea of existence, in which existence, known in the idea (predicate), is attributed to the force acting in the sensations and drawing them together in an ens. This final act of the spirit is the proper source of the intellective perception of bodies. We also saw that the spirit achieves this in virtue of its perfect unity, that is, of the identity between the feeling and understanding subject. In a word, the same subject, on receiving sensations and seeing ens in them, possesses the energy to turn towards itself where it beholds what it undergoes in its feeling related to the agent whose existence it affirms. In this way it sees the thing in itself, objectively.

455. II. If we now ask whether these parts are of their nature simultaneous or successive, we can see that naturally and temporally they have to be found in the following order. First, the idea of being must be present; this is followed by sensation; finally, judgment, by joining the idea of being and sensation, generates the perception of the existence of bodies. Such perception is simply the application of existence (a quasi-predicate) to bodily agents which, in the self-same application, become objects.

It is surely obvious that no judgment can take place unless it is preceded by its two terms (subject and predicate). Moreover, careful observation of these terms of judgment will show that the idea of being must precede sensation. Most obviously of all, we see on reflection that the idea of being must be present in all our ideas, and therefore in all our judgments (cf. 405, 417). Granted that we have made a judgment or obtained an idea, it must also be granted that we have made use of the idea of existence which we must already possess.

456. Observation will clarify the matter further for those wishing to understand it better. The question, 'Does the idea of being precede sensations or not?' can only be asked about the first judgment we make on entering this world. By noting the essential laws governing judgment, which must be applicable to our first judgment, we shall be in a better position to answer the question.
In every judgment made as we feel something, we think of the existence of a particular, sensible thing; this is a constitutive law of judgment. But what does 'thinking of the existence of a sensible thing' mean? It does not mean receiving, but making use of, the idea of existence. Using the idea, however, presupposes it. How can one make use of something which is non-existent?

457. Whoever takes observation as a sure guide to the presence of facts in nature will notice something relevant to our argument in the way he makes use of the information he already has about existence. He is certainly not conscious of receiving this information by suddenly passing from a state in which he does not possess it to one in which he does. He is conscious, however, of using it as something already stored in his mind when he comes to employ it on the occasion of some sensation. He is not surprised that he knows what existence is, nor has he any new awareness as he uses it. He sees it as something already familiar to him, and understood independently of other things. Careful observation of the act by which we affirm to ourselves the existence of external things shows precisely this.(14) Although in judging the existence of things we unite existence to the bodily force we feel, the idea of existence is so well-known that it escapes our attention. This, of course, makes it very difficult to observe.

It seems to me rather rash modesty, therefore, to maintain that the perception of bodies succeeds sensation in a mysterious, inexplicable manner. In saying this, the possibilities of explanation are restricted to the limits of one's own observation. But are these limits the ultimate criterion? We do not always have to believe philosophers who declare on their own authority that philosophical investigation can go no further simply because they themselves can make no progress. I have no doubt that there is a mystery involved in intellective perception, but it is not to be found where Reid put it.

458. The intellective perception of bodies is only the application of an idea, that is, of some information known prior to bodily sensations. Confirmation of this may be obtained from the very words we use, which according to Condillac(15) are an analysis of our thoughts. 'Perception of the existence of bodies' includes and expresses the idea of existence applied to bodies. The perception of the existence of bodies is therefore generated by the preceding idea of existence, which precedes the perception and is applied on occasion of sensations. The resulting object is called 'body'.

459. We may conclude: the idea of being does not begin to exist in our spirit in the act of perception. Self-observation provides no awareness of any sudden presence of this idea in us, nor of any instantaneous illumination; it tells us nothing of the immense leap necessarily required if our spirit is to pass from non-possession to possession of this idea; it provides no recollection of a time when we did not possess it and when we did. On the contrary, we are conscious only of the continual use made of this idea which we have always considered as our own. We have no right, therefore, without further proof to assert as fact the extraordinary, interior, instantaneous creation within us of an idea which bears no relationship to exterior, corporeal things.

460. Let us now suppose that the idea of being did enter our mind either on the occasion of a sensation or immediately afterwards, and that we perceived the existence of bodies by applying this fortuitous idea to the bodily force felt in sensations. Such an occurrence would be a miracle: an idea unconnected with sensations and appearing to our mind is either a creation or at least a unique, isolated event, connected with nothing and without analogy in nature. This consideration would be enough to exclude the hypothesis as unnecessary, since there is an easier, more ordinary way to explain the origin of ideas.

461. Moreover, the idea of being, if created instantaneously in our soul, could result from only one of two causes: either from an ens outside us (God) producing the idea on the occasion of sensations, or from the nature of the soul itself emitting and creating the idea according to some necessary, physical law.
The first of these hypotheses is the system of the Arabs, which I refuted above; the second is Kant's system.

The Arabs said that Aristotle's acting intellect was separate from us; it was God. But Aristotle's potency, by which the ideas of things are produced in us, is simply that which presents being to us. The claim that that which makes us see ens in sensible things (in other words, the acting intellect) is God, means that God, on the occasion of sensible phantasms, makes ens appear to our mental vision.

Similarly, in the case of Kant. Although he failed to consider being in all its universality, because he was more occupied with ens clothed with certain forms, the tendency of his philosophy is entirely directed to making everything we perceive, and therefore ens, come from the intimate depth of our spirit, as root, trunk, branches, foliage and blossom are all said to come from a seed.

462. The supposition, made by the Arabs, that human beings lack a complete faculty of thought and that, on the occasion of sensations, God himself has to create in our mind the idea of being, which makes us thinking beings, is a strange, unsupported hypothesis, unlikely to attract many followers, especially today.

463. However, is Kant's principle, any more true, that is, that the soul is capable of drawing the idea of being from itself when sensation occurs? Such an extraordinary occurrence would be an emanation or creation, both of which are inexplicable and gratuitous.
If the idea of being were indeed an emanation, it would already be present deep in the soul and therefore innate. This would be a kind of revelation made by the soul itself on the occasion of sensation. In this case, the soul would not begin to have the idea because this already pre-existed. How this emanation takes place does not concern me; what does concern me is that we are dealing either with a pre-existing idea (this would seem to be the real case), or with the soul as producing the idea, an absurd hypothesis unsupported by observation.
If the idea of being is entirely different from sensation, how can sensation give rise to it? We have to turn to the system of pre-established harmony or of occasional causes, that is, to systems which require an agent external to nature. But this is contrary to Kant's system.
Let us suppose then that sensation cannot give the idea of being but can move the subject in such a way that, following the laws of its nature, the subject is drawn to see the idea immediately before it. Would we not be aware of such a change?

464. But the fallacy of the hypothesis is shown above all by the following consideration. If the idea of being does not pre-exist, the subject cannot produce it of itself. A subject is particular, contingent and real, like all bodies and the sensations deriving from them; the idea of being is universal, necessary and possible. In a word, they are opposites: a subject is subject, the idea is object, (cf. 415-416).

465. Let us consider this last point for a moment. Myself, subject, sees the idea of being, object. This is the undeniable result of observation which tells us that our mind is indeed conscious of seeing, but not of producing what it sees.
When we produce something, we are conscious of the effort made in producing it. When we simply gaze, we are conscious of not acting: the object of our vision is independent of us and has not been placed there by our eye. Similarly the idea of being stands before us as something seen, not made or produced: its essence is as independent of our spirit as a star is independent of the astronomer.

466. Finally, it is not difficult to show by means of the sublime characteristics obtained from our accurate analysis of the idea of being (cf. 414-433) that the production of this idea is beyond the strength of any finite being, even of the human mind. But I think I have said enough to prove my point. I shall return later to this second, more rigorous, demonstration.

467. That the idea of being is innate follows from what has been said already. For:

1. if the idea is so necessary and essential to the formation of all our ideas that the faculty of thought is impossible without it (cf. 410-411);

2. if it is not found in sensations (cf. 414-439), nor extracted by reflection from internal or external sensations (cf. 438-447);

3. if it is not created by God at the moment of perception (cf. 461-462);

4. if finally its emanation from ourselves is an absurdity (cf. 463-464);

then the only possibility left is that the idea of being is innate in our soul; we are born with the vision of possible being but we advert to it only much later [App., no. 6].

468. This proof by exclusion is final if no other case is possible. That there is none, is shown by the following:
The fact to be explained is the existence of the idea of being in all its universality.
If it exists, then either it was given to us by nature or produced later; there is no middle term;
If it was produced later, either we produced it or something else did; again there is no middle term. Production by us is excluded; anything else producing it must be either sensible (the action of bodies) or insensible (an intelligent ens different from us, God, for example, and so on), and again there is no middle term. But these two cases were also excluded.

The list of possible cases therefore is complete because it has been reduced to alternatives with a middle term excluded as absurd. But if all the cases which consider the idea of being as given to us after we come into existence are impossible, it remains that the idea of being is innate and not produced. This is what we had to prove.

469. People unused to reflecting on themselves, usually make the following objection: 'How can we have the intuition of the idea of being without being aware of it, without knowing we have it or without stating it?' This constant objection was resolved by Leibniz in reply to Locke's book; it was the Achilles' heel of Locke's arguments against innate ideas. Although I have discussed it in the chapter on Leibniz's system (cf. vol. 1, 288-292), I will add a few thoughts here.

The person who makes this objection should first ask himself what happens when he thinks about something that absorbs his attention; does he simultaneously reflect on all the other ideas acquired during life and stored in his memory? Is he actually aware of having them? He would say, I believe, that he can think or talk of one thing only at a time. Yet all kinds of topics and arguments are stored in his mind, ready to be taken out when needed.

This fact implies two things:

1. Many ideas can be in our mind without our giving them a thought or actually being aware of them, as if they were not there at all.

2. We cannot turn from one idea to another without some act on our part by which we disregard what we are now thinking of in order to attend to what was indeed stored in our mind but lay neglected and unnoticed.

I do not need to explain here how this is possible; observation tells us it is, and this is sufficient for the present. Nor do we need to discover the nature of facts or ideas lying unnoticed in the memory - this is irrelevant. Nothing more is required than ordinary observation which attests to the two points we have noted.

But if we need a new act of attention in order to be aware of and enunciate new ideas, it follows that some ideas must remain unobserved and unnoticed in our spirit until some stimulus directs our attention to them. It is neither absurd nor strange, therefore, that the idea of being itself lies in our soul unobserved and unenunciated in the first moments of our existence. It cannot be otherwise, for what in fact do we observe about ourselves when we are born? So even the idea of being remains unnoticed until our reflection is stimulated to find it and contemplate it. But after reflection has sufficiently distinguished it, the idea can be enunciated and stated without hesitation.

470. This is what happens in fact. In the first moments of our existence, our spirit has nothing to excite and direct it to reflect on itself; it has no interest nor stimulus in turning inward. Indeed everything that affects our spirit draws it away from itself by directing its attention to external, sensible things. From the beginning our sense organs are struck from all directions by countless new impressions; the baby's eyes are enchanted by light, his palate and stomach cry out for nourishment; he has no interest in his spirit; he is totally unaware of his thoughts and ignorant of his nobler part. Philosophy and profound selfknowledge do not begin in the cradle, where even the body remains in great part unknown. Yet the baby has an intellect and heart as well as a body.
As the child grows, and reflection is stimulated, he begins to philosophise (philosophy is nothing but a kind of inner reflection). The philosopher's very effort to discover what takes place within him is sufficient to confirm that feelings and ideas take place unnoticed in our spirit and intellect where they do indeed exist, although we pay no attention to them nor mention them to others.

In fact, to be aware of an idea in our mind, we must not only note it attentively but be drawn to do so by some special need or curiosity, although even when stimulated in this way we do not find and determine the idea quickly, always or effortlessly. If all the ideas and events in our spirit were continually present to us, human philosophy would be a waste of time; everybody would be a philosopher or, rather, would be intimately informed about the spirit without the accurate, philosophical meditations required to ascertain what is in us. No philosopher would know more than another, nor correct another's observations, nor affirm about our spirit what a colleague had denied. To sum up, no matter how strange it may seem, observation forces us to conclude that an idea may exist in our mind without conscious advertence, awareness, affirmation or declaration on our part; we could be unaware of it and unable to affirm it to ourselves or others.

This objection, therefore, does not dissuade us from positing the idea of being as innate. It is certain that in the first moments of our existence, and for a long time after, we are unable to observe this idea because: 1. our attention lacks a reason or stimulus for concentrating interiorly on our spirit rather than on external matters, or for focusing on what is happening within when everything draws it outside; 2. our attention, even when sufficiently stimulated in early adulthood to search for what is present and taking place in our spirit, cannot easily discover this idea of pure being. If we wish to see the idea directly as it is, there is nothing to draw our attention to it; if we want to find the idea of pure being in the ideas we already have, which are ideas of bodies, a very difficult abstraction is required to isolate it from the other elements composing these ideas. We reach this idea only through a final abstraction, after all the accidents, forms and modes of being of an object have been distinguished and separated from it (cf. 408-411).

The spirit needs much practice to be sufficiently capable of prolonging a series of abstractions to the final point where it discovers the idea of being. Very few people have the ability and time to do this [App., no. 7]. Many give up, abandoning the path that would lead to the discovery of the reflex idea, if only they had the courage to follow it. Kant, one of the most experienced in abstraction, stopped half-way at the forms of space and time, the twelve categories and his schemata. These, as we saw,(16) are simply somewhat general determinations, modes of the idea of being which, however, lies a little further beyond them, entirely immune from all determinations.

471. The fact that a long time passed before the theory of being was known and acknowledged is only to be expected.
Although we use the idea in all our thoughts, we give it no attention whatsoever. Moreover, it is extremely difficult to place the idea before ourselves in all its purity and free from every addition, and then observe its strict relationship with all other ideas, whose own origin is from and through it. Indeed, as I have mentioned earlier, a thorough examination of the matter shows that all other ideas are in fact only the same idea related to the passive experiences we have in our (internal and external) senses, and generally speaking, to varyingly broad or very precise determinations such as the sensible qualities of bodies. Nevertheless this first, innate idea, this form of other ideas which enlightens all minds, was clearly seen by many noble spirits of antiquity. In particular, Christian society has for a long time held these teachings which are found in the books of its wise men.

472. In proof of this, I need quote only the following passage of a book attributed to St. Bonaventure where the author notes so well the distinction between seeing an idea (as the intellect does) and considering it, that is, turning our attention to it so that we are aware of seeing it. He applies this distinction precisely to the theory of the idea of being as the mother-idea which we use to form all other ideas although we pay attention to it only later, and with greater difficulty than to other ideas.

The blindness of the intellect is extraordinary:(17) it does not consider the very first thing it sees and without which it cannot know anything else. Just as our eye, when noting differences of colour, does not see the light by which it sees the differences,(18) or if it does, does not advert to it, so the eye of our mind, intent on particular and universal entia,(19) does not see ens itself outside every genus. But this ens comes to our mind before all other things, which come to our mind through it, although our mind does not advert to it. Thus, we can very truly say that the eye of our mind relative to the most obvious things of nature is like the eye of a bat relative to light.(20)

(4) If this way of conceiving things in our mind, that is, as they are in themselves, were only apparent because their existence was in fact relative to us, the argument would still be valid. But apparent or not, we would still have to explain the fact that things seem to be perceived in themselves, objectively. On the other hand because the discussion is solely about the way we perceive things, the difference between what is apparent and what is true is irrelevant. We cannot deceive ourselves about the way we conceive an object in our mind: to say 'I conceive the object in this way' means only that I conceive it in the way I do and nothing more. Whether the external thing corresponds to my concept or not, does not concern us here; I will deal with this question later. This footnote should dissipate any doubts raised by my argument in the followers of transcendental idealism.

(5) The important question whether all the possible modes and determinations of entia emanate from the idea of being alone, when perfectly comprehended, pertains to the ontological sciences.

(6) In passing, we note that indetermination is the effect of our imperfect vision of being; it is not something inherent in being itself.

(7) The derivation arises through the different applications and uses of which the idea of ens is capable. Cf. vol. 1, 55-62, 86-96, 109-114, 134-135, 161, 180-188, 226-228, 250, 278-282, 341; this volume, 385-397.

(8) Article 1.

(9) Here myself expresses the proper, substantial feeling of a person, not the additions provided by reflection carried out from the moment when the human being pronounces the monosyllable 'I'.

(10) Recherche de la vérité, bk. 3.

(11) An Essay concerning Human Understanding, bk. 2, c. 1, §4.

(12) Ibid., bk. 2, c.1, §3.

(13) I include in sensation here what I have called corporeal sense-perception (cf. 417, [App., no. 4]).

(14) This observation did not escape the ancients. Relative to the principles of reason one very acute author notes that our mind eis assentiat, non tamquam DE NOVO percipiat, sed tamquam sibi innata, et FAMILIARIA RECOGNOSCAT [although our mind assents to them, it does not perceive them as something new but as innate to itself, and acknowledges them as familiar] (Itiner. Mentis, etc., c. 3).

(15) Condillac defines languages as analytical methods, that is, as methods which break down ideas. Such methods can certainly be called analytical, but Condillac fails to see that just as every analysis supposes a previous synthesis, so languages are first synthetical and secondly analytical methods; they first unite and then break down. When I use a noun, for example, 'body', I unite several ideas, all bound together in this single sign, 'body'. If I state a proposition, for example, 'A body is possible', I break down the idea of 'body'. In fact, in this word, I already express a possible essence which I separate out as possibility when I add 'is possible'. I have therefore the idea of possible existence, contained in 'body' and separated out in 'possible'. 'Body' is a synthesis, while the proposition, 'A body is possible', is an analysis. Universally, all nouns are syntheses, and the propositions of which they form part are analyses. Now, just as individual words precede propositions, which are composed of individual words, so synthesis precedes analysis. This is true for both vocal and purely intellectual discourses. Languages therefore are faithful presenters of thoughts (just as they are a great help to thought) and are not merely 'analytical' but 'synthetico-analytical' methods. This expression embraces everything, and avoids what is partial and systematic.

(16) Cf. vol. 1, 368-384.

(17) Our intellect needs to reflect on itself in order to be aware of what it sees. This arises from the limited nature itself of the human intellect. The fall of humankind however made our spirit inert and sluggish in turning back on itself, and uncertain in its reflections. This defect is fittingly called 'blindness'.

(18) When I discussed Aristotle's teaching, I showed how he had come to know that the human understanding, although without any knowledge, nevertheless had to have an innate light which made it capable of illuminating sensible things and knowing them. If we wish to keep to the path of Aristotle's thought and move forward in his line of reasoning, we simply have to explain in appropriate terms the meaning of that mysterious, innate light. I myself began the investigation at the point where Aristotle had left it. I was convinced that the light could only be the idea of being in all its universality. I showed that this idea is the true light of the mind by which all sensible things are illuminated, that is, are perceived and known (cf. vol. 1, 262-275). This very thing was taught six centuries ago and presented as free from all doubt.

(19) Universal entia, that is, genera and species. Being, however, is the most universal idea, and very fittingly said to be 'outside every genus', because the idea of being has no difference or determination of any kind, which constitutes it as a kind of special genus.

(20) Mira igitur est caecitas intellectus, qui non considerat illud quod prius videt, et sine quo nihil potest cognoscere. Sed sicut oculus intentus in varias colorum differentias, lumen, per quod videt caetera, non videt, et si videt, non tamen advertit; sic oculus mentis nostrae intentus in ista entia particularia et universalia, ipsum esse extra omne genus, licet primo occurrat menti, et per ipsum alia, tamen non advertit. Unde verissime apparet, quod sicut oculus vespertilionis se habet ad lucem, ita se habet oculus mentis nostrae ad manifestissima naturae Itiner. Mentis in Deum, c. 5).