I.2.2. The Ideal of Pure Reason; the Ontological Proof

We have seen above that no objects can be represented through pure concepts of understanding, apart from the conditions of sensibility. For the conditions of the objective reality of the concepts are then absent, and nothing is to be found in them save the mere form of thought. If, however, they are applied to appearances, they can be exhibited in concreto, because in the appearances they obtain the appropriate material for concepts of experience—a concept of experience being nothing but a concept of understanding in concreto. But ideas are even further removed from objective reality than are categories, for no appearance can be found in which they can be represented in concreto. They contain a certain completeness to which no possible empirical knowledge ever attains. In them reason aims only at a systematic unity, to which it seeks to approximate the unity that is empirically possible, without ever completely reaching it.

But what I entitle the ideal seems to be further removed from objective reality even than the idea. By the ideal I understand the idea, not merely in concreto, but in individuo, that is, as an individual thing, determinable or even determined by the idea alone.

Humanity [as an idea] in its complete perfection contains not only all the essential qualities which belong to human nature and constitute our concept of it—and these so extended as to be in that complete conformity with their ends which would be our idea of perfect humanity—but also everything which, in addition to this concept, is required for the complete determination of the idea. For of all contradictory predicates one only [of each pair] can apply to the idea of the perfect man. What to us is an ideal was in Plato’s view an idea of the divine understandings an individual object of its pure intuition, the most perfect of every kind of possible being, and the archetype of all copies in the [field of] appearance.

Without soaring so high, we are yet bound to confess that human reason contains not only ideas, but ideals also, which although they do not have, like the Platonic ideas, creative power, yet have practical power (as regulative principles), and form the basis of the possible perfection of certain actions. Moral concepts, as resting on something empirical (pleasure or displeasure), are not completely pure concepts of reason. None the less, in respect of the principle whereby reason sets bounds to a freedom which is in itself without law, these concepts (when we attend merely to their form) may well serve as examples of pure concepts of reason. Virtue, and therewith human wisdom in its complete purity, are ideas. The wise man (of the Stoics) is, however, an ideal, that is, a man existing in thought only, but in complete conformity with the idea of wisdom. As the idea gives the rule, so the ideal in such a case serves as the archetype for the complete determination of the copy; and we have no other standard for our actions than the conduct of this divine man within us, with which we compare and judge ourselves, and so reform ourselves, although we can never attain to the perfection thereby prescribed. Although we cannot concede to these ideals objective reality (existence), they are not therefore to be regarded as figments of the brain; they supply reason with a standard which is indispensable to it, providing it, as they do, with a concept of that which is entirely complete in its kind, and thereby enabling it to estimate and to measure the degree and the defects of the incomplete. But to attempt to realise the ideal in an example, that is, in the [field of] appearance, as, for instance, to depict the [character of the perfectly] wise man in a romance, is impracticable. There is indeed something absurd, and far from edifying, in such an attempt, inasmuch as the natural limitations, which are constantly doing violence to the completeness of the idea, make the illusion that is aimed at altogether impossible, and so cast suspicion on the good itself—the good that has its source in the idea—by giving it the air of being a mere fiction.

Such is the nature of the ideal of reason, which must always rest on determinate concepts and serve as a rule and archetype, alike in our actions and in our critical judgments. The products of the imagination are of an entirely different nature; no one can explain or give an intelligible concept of them; each is a kind of monogram, a mere set of particular qualities, determined by no assignable rule, and forming rather a blurred sketch drawn from diverse experiences than a determinate image—a representation such as painters and physiognomists profess to carry in their heads, and which they treat as being an incommunicable shadowy image of their creations or even of their critical judgments. Such representations may be entitled, though improperly, ideals of sensibility, inasmuch as they are viewed as being models (not indeed realisable) of possible empirical intuitions, and yet furnish no rules that allow of being explained and examined.

Reason, in its ideal, aims, on the contrary, at complete determination in accordance with a priori rules. Accordingly it thinks for itself an object which it regards as being completely determinable in accordance with principles. The conditions that are required for such determination are not, however, to be found in experience, and the concept itself is therefore transcendent.

Every concept is, in respect of what is not contained in it, undetermined, and is subject to the principle of determine ability. According to this principle, of every two contradictorily opposed predicates only one can belong to a concept. This principle is based on the law of contradiction, and is therefore a purely logical principle. As such, it abstracts from the entire content of knowledge and is concerned solely with its logical form.

But every things as regards its possibility, is likewise subject to the principle of complete determination, according to which if all the possible predicates of things be taken together with their contradictory opposites, then one of each pair of contradictory opposites must belong to it. This principle does not rest merely on the law of contradiction; for, besides considering each thing in its relation to the two contradictory predicates, it also considers it in its relation to the sum of all possibilities, that is, to the sum-total of all predicates of things. Presupposing this sum as being an a priori condition, it proceeds to represent everything as deriving its own possibility from the share which it possesses in this sum of all possibilities. The principle of complete determination concerns, therefore, the content, and not merely the logical form. It is the principle of the synthesis of all predicates which are intended to constitute the complete concept of a thing, and not simply a principle of analytic representation in reference merely to one of two contradictory predicates. It contains a transcendental presupposition, namely, that of the material for all possibility, which in turn is regarded as containing a priori the data for the particular possibility of each and every thing.

The proposition, everything which exists is completely determined, does not mean only that one of every pair of given contradictory predicates, but that one of every [pair of] possible predicates, must always belong to it. In terms of this proposition the predicates are not merely compared with one another logically, but the thing itself is compared, in transcendental fashion, with the sum of all possible predicates. What the proposition therefore asserts is this: that to know a thing completely, we must know every possible [predicate], and must determine it thereby, either affirmatively or negatively. The complete determination is thus a concept, which, in its totality, can never be exhibited in concreto. It is based upon an idea, which has its seat solely in the faculty of reason—the faculty which prescribes to the understanding the rule of its complete employment.

Although this idea of the sum of all possibility, in so far as it serves as the condition of the complete determination of each and every thing, is itself undetermined in respect of the predicates which may constitute it, and is thought by us as being nothing more than the sum of all possible predicates, we yet find, on closer scrutiny, that this idea, as a primordial concept, excludes a number of predicates which as derivative are already given through other predicates or which are incompatible with others; and that it does, indeed, define itself as a concept that is completely determinate a priori. It thus becomes the concept of an individual object which is completely determined through the mere idea, and must therefore be entitled an ideal of pure reason.

When we consider all possible predicates, not merely logically, but transcendentally, that is, with reference to such content as can be thought a priori as belonging to them, we find that through some of them we represent a being, through others a mere not-being. Logical negation, which is indicated simply through the word not, does not properly refer to a concept, but only to its relation to another concept in a judgment, and is therefore quite insufficient to determine a concept in respect of its content. The expression non-mortal does not enable us to declare that we are thereby representing in the object a mere not-being; the expression leaves all content unaffected. A transcendental negation, on the other hand, signifies not-being in itself, and is opposed to transcendental affirmation, which is a something the very concept of which in itself expresses a being. Transcendental affirmation is therefore entitled reality/ because through it alone, and so far only as it reaches, are objects something (things), whereas its opposite, negation, signifies a mere want, and, so far as it alone is thought, represents the abrogation of all thinghood.

Now no one can think a negation determinately, save by basing it upon the opposed affirmation. Those born blind cannot have the least notion of darkness, since they have none of light. The savage knows nothing of poverty, since he has no acquaintance with wealth. The ignorant have no concept of their ignorance, because they have none of knowledge, etc. All concepts of negations are thus derivative; it is the realities which contain the data, and, so to speak, the material or transcendental content, for the possibility and complete determination of all things.

If, therefore, reason employs in the complete determination of things a transcendental substrate that contains, as it were, the whole store of material from which all possible predicates of things must be taken, this substrate cannot be anything else than the idea of an omnitudo realitatis? All true negations are nothing but limitations—a title which would be inapplicable, were they not thus based upon the unlimited, that is, upon “the All.”

But the concept of what thus possesses all reality is just the concept of a thing in itself as completely determined; and since in all possible [pairs of] contradictory predicates one predicate, namely, that which belongs to being absolutely, is to be found in its determination, the concept of an ens realissimum is the concept of an individual being. It is therefore a transcendental ideal which serves as basis for the complete determination that necessarily belongs to all that exists. This ideal is the supreme and complete material condition of the possibility of all that exists—the condition to which all thought of objects, so far as their content is concerned, has to be traced back. It is also the only true ideal of which human reason is capable. For only in this one case is a concept of a thing—a concept which is in itself universal—completely determined in and through itself, and known as the representation of an individual.

The logical determination of a concept by reason is based upon a disjunctive syllogism, in which the major premiss contains a logical division (the division of the sphere of a universal concept), the minor premiss limiting this sphere to a certain part, and the conclusion determining the concept by means of this part. The universal concept of a reality in general cannot be divided a priori, because without experience we do not know any determinate kinds of reality which would be contained under that genus. The transcendental major premiss which is presupposed in the complete determination of all things is therefore no other than the representation of the sum of all reality; it is not merely a concept which, as regards its transcendental content, comprehends all predicates under itself it also contains them within itself and the complete determination of any and every thing rests on the limitation of this total reality, inasmuch as part of it is ascribed to the thing, and the rest is excluded—a procedure which is in agreement with the ‘either—or’ of the disjunctive major premiss and with the determination of the object, in the minor premiss, through one of the members of the division. Accordingly, reason, in employing the transcendental ideal as that by reference to which it determines all possible things, is proceeding in a manner analogous with its procedure in disjunctive syllogisms—this, indeed, is the principle upon which I have based the systematic division of all transcendental ideas, as parallel with, and corresponding to, the three kinds of syllogism.

It is obvious that reason, in achieving its purpose, that, namely, of representing the necessary complete determination of things, does not presuppose the existence of a being that corresponds to this ideal, but only the idea of such a being, and this only for the purpose of deriving from an unconditioned totality of complete determination the conditioned totality, that is, the totality of the limited. The ideal is, therefore, the archetype (prototypon) of all things, which one and all, as imperfect copies (ectypa), derive from it the material of their possibility, and while approximating to it in varying degrees, yet always fall very far short of actually attaining it.

All possibility of things (that is, of the synthesis of the manifold, in respect of its content) must therefore be regarded as derivative, with only one exception, namely, the possibility of that which includes in itself all reality. This latter possibility must be regarded as original. For all negations (which are the only predicates through which anything can be distinguished from the ens realissimum) are merely limitations of a greater, and ultimately of the highest, reality; and they therefore presuppose this reality, and are, as regards their content, derived from it. All manifoldness of things is only a correspondingly varied mode of limiting the concept of the highest reality which forms their common substratum, just as all figures are only possible as so many different modes of limiting infinite space. The object of the ideal of reason, an object which is present to us only in and through reason, is therefore entitled the primordial being (ens originarium). As it has nothing above it, it is also entitled the highest being (ens summum); and as everything that is conditioned is subject to it, the being of all beings (ens entium). These terms are not, however, to be taken as signifying the objective relation of an actual object to other things, but of an idea to concepts. We are left entirely without knowledge as to the existence of a being of such outstanding pre-eminence.

We cannot say that a primordial being consists of a number of derivative beings, for since the latter presuppose the former they cannot themselves constitute it. The idea of the primordial being must therefore be thought as simple.

Consequently, the derivation of all other possibility from this primordial being cannot, strictly speaking, be regarded as a limitation of its supreme reality, and, as it were, a division of it. For in that case the primordial being would be treated as a mere aggregate of derivative beings; and this, as we have just shown, is impossible, although in our first rough statements we have used such language. On the contrary, the supreme reality must condition the possibility of all things as their ground, not as their sum; and the manifoldness of things must therefore rest, not on the limitation of the primordial being itself, but on all that follows from it, including therein all our sensibility, and all reality in the [field of] appearance—existences of a kind which cannot, as ingredients, belong to the idea of the supreme being.

If, in following up this idea of ours, we proceed to hypostatise it, we shall be able to determine the primordial being through the mere concept of the highest reality, as a being that is one, simple, all-sufficient, eternal, etc. In short, we shall be able to determine it, in its unconditioned completeness, through all predicaments. The concept of such a being is the concept of God, taken in the transcendental sense; and the ideal of pure reason, as above defined, is thus the object of a transcendental theology.

In any such use of the transcendental idea we should, however, be overstepping the limits of its purpose and validity. For reason, in employing it as a basis for the complete determination of things, has used it only as the concept of all reality, without requiring that all this reality be objectively given and be itself a thing. Such a thing is a mere fiction in which we combine and realise the manifold of our idea in an ideal, as an individual being. But we have no right to do this, nor even to assume the possibility of such an hypothesis. Nor do any of the consequences which flow from such an ideal have any bearing upon the complete determination of things, or exercise in that regard the least influence; and it is solely as aiding in their determination that the idea has been shown to be necessary.

But merely to describe the procedure of our reason and its dialectic does not suffice; we must also endeavour to discover the sources of this dialectic, that we may be able to explain, as a phenomenon of the understanding, the illusion to which it has given rise. For the ideal, of which we are speaking, is based on a natural, not on a merely arbitrary idea. The question to be raised is therefore this: how does it happen that reason regards all possibility of things as derived from one single fundamental possibility, namely, that of the highest reality, and thereupon presupposes this to be contained in an individual primordial being?

The answer is obvious from the discussions in the Transcendental Analytic. The possibility of the objects of the senses is a relation of these objects to our thought, in which something (namely, the empirical form) can be thought a priori, while that which constitutes the matter, reality in the [field of] appearance (that which corresponds to sensation), must be given, since otherwise it could not even be thought, nor its possibility represented. Now an object of the senses can be completely determined only when it is compared with all the predicates that are possible in the [field of] appearance, and by means of them is represented either affirmatively or negatively. But since that which constitutes the thing itself, namely, the real in the [field of] appearance, must be given—otherwise the thing could not be conceived at all—and since that wherein the real of all appearances is given is experience, considered as single and all-embracing, the material for the possibility of all objects of the senses must be presupposed as given in one whole; and it is upon the limitation of this whole that all possibility of empirical objects, their distinction from each other and their complete determination, can alone be based. No other objects, besides those of the senses, can, as a matter of fact, be given to us, and nowhere save in the context of a possible experience; and consequently nothing is an object for us, unless it presupposes the sum of all empirical reality as the condition of its possibility. Now owing to a natural illusion we regard this principle, which applies only to those things which are given as objects of our senses, as being a principle which must be valid of things in general. Accordingly, omitting this limitation, we treat the empirical principle of our concepts of the possibility of things, viewed as appearances, as being a transcendental principle of the possibility of things in general.

If we thereupon proceed to hypostatise this idea of the sum of all reality, that is because we substitute dialectically for the distributive unity of the empirical employment of the understanding, the collective unity of experience as a whole; and then thinking this whole [realm] of appearance as one single thing that contains all empirical reality in itself; and then again, in turn, by means of the above-mentioned transcendental subreption, substituting for it the concept of a thing which stands at the source of the possibility of all things, and supplies the real conditions for their complete determination.

Notwithstanding this pressing need of reason to presuppose something that may afford the understanding a sufficient foundation for the complete determination of its concepts, it is yet much too easily conscious of the ideal and merely fictitious character of such a presupposition to allow itself, on this ground alone, to be persuaded that a mere creature of its own thought is a real being—were it not that it is impelled from another direction to seek a resting-place in the regress from the conditioned, which is given, to the unconditioned. This unconditioned is not, indeed, given as being in itself real, nor as having a reality that follows from its mere concept; it is, however, what alone can complete the series of conditions when we proceed to trace these conditions to their grounds. This is the course which our human reason, by its very nature, leads all of us, even the least reflective, to adopt, though not everyone continues to pursue it. It begins not with concepts, but with common experience, and thus bases itself on something actually existing. But if this ground does not rest upon the immovable rock of the absolutely necessary, it yields beneath our feet. And this latter support is itself in turn without support, if there be any empty space beyond and under it, and if it does not itself so fill all things as to leave no room for any further question—unless, that is to say, it be infinite in its reality.

If we admit something as existing, no matter what this something may be, we must also admit that there is something which exists necessarily. For the contingent exists only under the condition of some other contingent existence as its cause, and from this again we must infer yet another cause, until we are brought to a cause which is not contingent, and which is therefore unconditionally necessary. This is the argument upon which reason bases its advance to the primordial being.

Now reason looks around for a concept that squares with so supreme a mode of existence as that of unconditioned necessity—not for the purpose of inferring a priori from the concept the existence of that for which it stands (for if that were what it claimed to do, it ought to limit its enquiries to mere concepts, and would not then require a given existence as its basis), but solely in order to find among its various concepts that concept which is in no respect incompatible with absolute necessity. For that there must be something that exists with absolute necessity, is regarded as having been established by the first step in the argument. If, then, in removing everything which is not compatible with this necessity, only one existence remains, this existence must be the absolutely necessary being, whether or not its necessity be comprehensible, that is to say, deducible from its concept alone.

Now that which in its concept contains a therefore for every wherefore, that which is in no respect defective, that which is in every way sufficient as a condition, seems to be precisely the being to which absolute necessity can fittingly be ascribed. For while it contains the conditions of all that is possible, it itself does not require and indeed does not allow of any condition, and therefore satisfies, at least in this one feature, the concept of unconditioned necessity. In this respect all other concepts must fall short of it; for since they are deficient and in need of completion, they cannot have as their characteristic this independence of all further conditions. We are not indeed justified in arguing that what does not contain the highest and in all respects complete condition is therefore itself conditioned in its existence. But we are justified in saying that it does not possess that one feature through which alone reason is in a position, by means of an a priori concept, to know, in regard to any being, that it is unconditioned.

The concept of an ens realissimum is therefore, of all concepts of possible things, that which best squares with the concept of an unconditionally necessary being; and though it may not be completely adequate to it, we have no choice in the matter, but find ourselves constrained to hold to it. For we cannot afford to dispense with the existence of a necessary being; and once its existence is granted, we cannot, in the whole field of possibility, find anything that can make a better grounded claim [than the ens realissimum] to such pre-eminence in the mode of its existence.

Such, then, is the natural procedure of human reason. It begins by persuading itself of the existence of some necessary being. This being it apprehends as having an existence that is unconditioned. It then looks around for the concept of that which is independent of any condition, and finds it in that which is itself the sufficient condition of all else, that is, in that which contains all reality. But that which is all-containing and without limits is absolute unity, and involves the concept of a single being that is likewise the supreme being. Accordingly, we conclude that the supreme being, as primordial ground of all things, must exist by absolute necessity.

If what we have in view is the coming to a decision—if, that is to say, the existence of some sort of necessary being is taken as granted, and if it be agreed further that we must come to a decision as to what it is—then the foregoing way of thinking must be allowed to have a certain cogency. For in that case no better choice can be made, or rather we have no choice at all, but find ourselves compelled to decide in favour of the absolute unity of complete reality, as the ultimate source of possibility. If, however, we are not required to come to any decision, and prefer to leave the issue open until the weight of the evidence is such as to compel assent; if, in other words, what we have to do is merely to estimate how much we really know in the matter, and how much we merely flatter ourselves that we know, then the foregoing argument is far from appearing in so advantageous a light, and special favour is required to compensate for the defectiveness of its claims.

For if we take the issue as being that which is here stated, namely, that from any given existence (it may be, merely my own existence) we can correctly infer the existence of an unconditionally necessary being; secondly, that we must regard a being which contains all reality, and therefore every condition, as being absolutely unconditioned, and that in this concept of an ens realissimum we have therefore found the concept of a thing to which we can also ascribe absolute necessity—granting all this, it by no means follows that the concept of a limited being which does not have the highest reality is for that reason incompatible with absolute reality. For although I do not find in its concept that unconditioned which is involved in the concept of the totality of conditions, we are not justified in concluding that its existence must for this reason be conditioned; just as I cannot say, in the case of a hypothetical syllogism, that where a certain condition (in the case under discussion, the condition of completeness in accordance with [pure] concepts) does not hold, the conditioned also does not hold. On the contrary, we are entirely free to hold that any limited beings whatsoever, notwithstanding their being limited, may also be unconditionally necessary, although we cannot infer their necessity from the universal concepts which we have of them. Thus the argument has failed to give us the least concept of the properties of a necessary being, and indeed is utterly ineffective.

But this argument continues to have a certain importance and to be endowed with an authority of which we cannot, simply on the ground of this objective insufficiency, at once proceed to divest it. For granting that there are in the idea of reason obligations which are completely valid, but which in their application to ourselves would be lacking in all reality—that is, obligations to which there would be no motives—save on the assumption that there exists a supreme being to give effect and confirmation to the practical laws, in such a situation we should be under an obligation to follow those concepts which, though they may not be objectively sufficient, are yet, according to the standard of our reason, preponderant, and in comparison with which we know of nothing that is better and more convincing. The duty of deciding would thus, by a practical addition, incline the balance so delicately preserved by the indecisiveness of speculation. Reason would indeed stand condemned in its own judgment—and there is none more circumspect—if, when impelled by such urgent motives, it should fail, however incomplete its insight, to conform its judgment to those pleas which are at least of greater weight than any others known to us.

Though this argument, as resting on the inner insufficiency of the contingent, is in actual fact transcendental, it is yet so simple and natural that, immediately it is propounded, it commends itself to the commonest understanding. We see things alter, come into being, and pass away; and these, or at least their state, must therefore have a cause. But the same question can be raised in regard to every cause that can be given in experience. Where, therefore, can we more suitably locate the ultimate causality than where there also exists the highest causality, that is, in that being which contains primordially in itself the sufficient ground of every possible effect, and the concept of which we can also very easily entertain by means of the one attribute of an all-embracing perfection. This supreme cause we then proceed to regard as absolutely necessary, inasmuch as we find it absolutely necessary that we should ascend to it, and find no ground for passing beyond it. And thus, in all peoples, there shine amidst the most benighted polytheism some gleams of monotheism, to which they have been led, not by reflection and profound speculation, but simply by the natural bent of the common understanding, as step by step it has come to apprehend its own requirements.

There are only three possible ways of proving the existence of God by means of speculative reason.

All the paths leading to this goal begin either from determinate experience and the specific constitution of the world of sense as thereby known, and ascend from it, in accordance with laws of causality, to the supreme cause outside the world; or they start from experience which is purely indeterminate, that is, from experience of existence in general; or finally they abstract from all experience, and argue completely a priori, from mere concepts, to the existence of a supreme cause. The first proof is the physico-theological, the second the cosmological, the third the ontological. There are, and there can be, no others.

I propose to show that reason is as little able to make progress on the one path, the empirical, as on the other path, the transcendental, and that it stretches its wings in vain in thus attempting to soar above the world of sense by the mere power of speculation. As regards the order in which these arguments should be dealt with, it will be exactly the reverse of that which reason takes in the progress of its own development, and therefore of that which we have ourselves followed in the above account. For it will be shown that, although experience is what first gives occasion to this enquiry, it is the transcendental concept which in all such endeavours marks out the goal that reason has set itself to attain, and which is indeed its sole guide in its efforts to achieve that goal. I shall therefore begin with the examination of the transcendental proof, and afterwards enquire what effect the addition of the empirical factor can have in enhancing the force of the argument

It is evident, from what has been said, that the concept of an absolutely necessary being is a concept of pure reason, that is, a mere idea the objective reality of which is very far from being proved by the fact that reason requires it. For the idea instructs us only in regard to a certain unattainable completeness, and so serves rather to limit the understanding than to extend it to new objects. But we are here faced by what is indeed strange and perplexing, namely, that while the inference from a given existence in general to some absolutely necessary being seems to be both imperative and legitimate, all those conditions under which alone the understanding can form a concept of such a necessity are so many obstacles in the way of our doing so.

In all ages men have spoken of an absolutely necessary being, and in so doing have endeavoured, not so much to understand whether and how a thing of this kind allows even of being thought, but rather to prove its existence. There is, of course, no difficulty in giving a verbal definition of the concept, namely, that it is something the non-existence of which is impossible. But this yields no insight into the conditions which make it necessary to regard the non-existence of a thing as absolutely unthinkable. It is precisely these conditions that we desire to know, in order that we may determine whether or not, in resorting to this concept, we are thinking anything at all. The expedient of removing all those conditions which the understanding indispensably requires in order to regard something as necessary, simply through the introduction of the word unconditioned is very far from sufficing to show whether I am still thinking anything in the concept of the unconditionally necessary, or perhaps rather nothing at all.

Nay more, this concept, at first ventured upon blindly, and now become so completely familiar, has been supposed to have its meaning exhibited in a number of examples; and on this account all further enquiry into its intelligibility has seemed to be quite needless. Thus the fact that every geometrical proposition, as, for instance, that a triangle has three angles, is absolutely necessary, has been taken as justifying us in speaking of an object which lies entirely outside the sphere of our understanding as if we understood perfectly what it is that we intend to convey by the concept of that object.

All the alleged examples are, without exception, taken from judgments, not from things and their existence. But the unconditioned necessity of judgments is not the same as an absolute necessity of things. The absolute necessity of the judgment is only a conditioned necessity of the thing, or of the predicate in the judgment. The above proposition does not (bI, declare that three angles are absolutely necessary, but that, under the condition that there is a triangle (that is, that a triangle is given), three angles will necessarily be found in it. So great, indeed, is the deluding influence exercised by this logical necessity that, by the simple device of forming an a priori concept of a thing in such a manner as to include existence within the scope of its meaning, we have supposed ourselves to have justified the conclusion that because existence necessarily belongs to the object of this concept—always under the condition that we posit the thing as given (as existing)—we are also of necessity, in accordance with the law of identity, required to posit the existence of its object, and that this being is therefore itself absolutely necessary—and this, to repeat, for the reason that the existence of this being has already been thought in a concept which is assumed arbitrarily and on condition that we posit its object.

If, in an identical proposition, I reject the predicate while retaining the subject, contradiction results; and I therefore say that the former belongs necessarily to the latter. But if we reject subject and predicate alike, there is no contradiction; for nothing is then left that can be contradicted. To posit a triangle, and yet to reject its three angles, is self-contradictory; but there is no contradiction in rejecting the triangle together with its three angles. The same holds true of the concept of an absolutely necessary being. If its existence is rejected, we reject the thing itself with all its predicates; and no question of contradiction can then arise. There is nothing outside it that would then be contradicted, since the necessity of the thing is not supposed to be derived from anything external; nor is there anything internal that would be contradicted, since in rejecting the thing itself we have at the same time rejected all its internal properties. ‘God is omnipotent’ is a necessary judgment. The omnipotence cannot be rejected if we posit a Deity, that is, an infinite being; for the two concepts are identical. But if we say, ‘There is no God’, neither the omnipotence nor any other of its predicates is given; they are one and all rejected together with the subject, and there is therefore not the least contradiction in such a judgment.

We have thus seen that if the predicate of a judgment is rejected together with the subject, no internal contradiction can result, and that this holds no matter what the predicate may be. The only way of evading this conclusion is to argue that there are subjects which cannot be removed, and must always remain. That, however, would only be another way of saying that there are absolutely necessary subjects; and that is the very assumption which I have called in question, and the possibility of which the above argument professes to establish. For I cannot form the least concept of a thing which, should it be rejected with all its predicates, leaves behind a contradiction; and in the absence of contradiction I have, through pure a priori concepts alone, no criterion of impossibility.

Notwithstanding all these general considerations, in which every one must concur, we may be challenged with a case which is brought forward as proof that in actual fact the contrary holds, namely, that there is one concept, and indeed only one, in reference to which the not-being or rejection of its object is in itself contradictory, namely, the concept of the ens realissimum. It is declared that it possesses all reality, and that we are justified in assuming that such a being is possible (the fact that a concept does not contradict itself by no means proves the possibility of its object: but the contrary assertion I am for the moment willing to allow). Now [the argument proceeds] ‘all reality’ includes existence; existence is therefore contained in the concept of a thing that is possible. If, then, this thing is rejected, the internal possibility of the thing is rejected—which is self-contradictory.

My answer is as follows. There is already a contradiction in introducing the concept of existence—no matter under what title it may be disguised—into the concept of a thing which we profess to be thinking solely in reference to its possibility. If that be allowed as legitimate, a seeming victory has been won; but in actual fact nothing at all is said: the assertion is a mere tautology. We must ask: Is the proposition that this or that thing (which, whatever it may be, is allowed as possible) exists, an analytic or a synthetic proposition? If it is analytic, the assertion of the existence of the thing adds nothing to the thought of the thing; but in that case either the thought, which is in us, is the thing itself, or we have presupposed an existence as belonging to the realm of the possible, and have then, on that pretext, inferred its existence from its internal possibility—which is nothing but a miserable tautology. The word ‘reality’, which in the concept of the thing sounds other than the word ‘existence’ in the concept of the predicate, is of no avail in meeting this objection. For if all positing (no matter what it may be that is posited) is entitled reality, the thing with all its predicates is already posited in the concept of the subject, and is assumed as actual; and in the predicate this is merely repeated. But if, on the other hand, we admit, as every reasonable person must, that all existential propositions are synthetic, how can we profess to maintain that the predicate of existence cannot be rejected without contradiction? This is a feature which is found only in analytic propositions, and is indeed precisely what constitutes their analytic character.

I should have hoped to put an end to these idle and fruitless disputations in a direct manner, by an accurate determination of the concept of existence, had I not found that the illusion which is caused by the confusion of a logical with a real predicate (that is, with a predicate which determines a thing) is almost beyond correction. Anything we please can be made to serve as a logical predicate; the subject can even be predicated of itself; for logic abstracts from all content. But a determining predicate is a predicate which is added to the concept of the subject and enlarges it. Consequently, it must not be already contained in the concept.

‘Being’ is obviously not a real predicate; that is, it is not a concept of something which could be added to the concept of a thing. It is merely the positing of a thing, or of certain determinations, as existing in themselves. Logically, it is merely the copula of a judgment. The proposition, ‘God is omnipotent’,, contains two concepts, each of which has its object—God and omnipotence. The small word ‘is’ adds no new predicate, but only serves to posit the predicate in its relation to the subject. If, now, we take the subject (God) with all its predicates (among which is omnipotence), and say ‘God is’, or ‘There is a God’, we attach no new predicate to the concept of God, but only posit the subject in itself with all its predicates, and indeed posit it as being an object that stands in relation to my concept. The content of both must be one and the same; nothing can have been added to the concept, which expresses merely what is possible, by my thinking its object (through the expression ‘it is’) as given absolutely. Otherwise stated, the real contains no more than the merely possible. A hundred real thalers do not contain the least coin more than a hundred possible thalers. For as the latter signify the concept, and the former the object and the positing of the object, should the former contain more than the latter, my concept would not, in that case, express the whole object, and would not therefore be an adequate concept of it. My financial position is, however, affected very differently by a hundred real thalers than it is by the mere concept of them (that is, of their possibility). For the object, as it actually exists, is not analytically contained in my concept, but is added to my concept (which is a determination of my state) synthetically; and yet the conceived hundred thalers are not themselves in the least increased through thus acquiring existence outside my concept.

By whatever and by however many predicates we may think a thing—even if we completely determine it—we do not make the least addition to the thing when we further declare that this thing is. Otherwise, it would not be exactly the same thing that exists, but something more than we had thought in the concept; and we could not, therefore, say that the exact object of my concept exists. If we think in a thing every feature of reality except one, the missing reality is not added by my saying that this defective thing exists. On the contrary, it exists with the same defect with which I have thought it, since otherwise what exists would be something different from what I thought. When, therefore, I think a being as the supreme reality, without any defect, the question still remains whether it exists or not. For though, in my concept, nothing may be lacking of the possible real content of a thing in general, something is still lacking in its relation to my whole state of thought, namely, [in so far as I am unable to assert] that knowledge of this object is also possible a posteriori. And here we find the source of our present difficulty. Were we dealing with an object of the senses, we could not confound the existence of the thing with the mere concept of it. For through the concept the object is thought only as conforming to the universal conditions of possible empirical knowledge in general, whereas through its existence it is thought as belonging to the context of experience as a whole. In being thus connected with the content of experience as a whole, the concept of the object is not, however, in the least enlarged; all that has happened is that our thought has thereby obtained an additional possible perception. It is not, therefore, surprising that, if we attempt to think existence through the pure category alone, we cannot specify a single mark distinguishing it from mere possibility.

Whatever, therefore, and however much, our concept of an object may contain, we must go outside it, if we are to ascribe existence to the object. In the case of objects of the senses, this takes place through their connection with some one of our perceptions, in accordance with empirical laws. But in dealing with objects of pure thought, we have no means whatsoever of knowing their existence, since it would have to be known in a completely a priori manner. Our consciousness of all existence (whether immediately through perception, or mediately through inferences which connect something with perception) belongs exclusively to the unity of experience; any [alleged] existence outside this field, while not indeed such as we can declare to be absolutely impossible, is of the nature of an assumption which we can never be in a position to justify.

The concept of a supreme being is in many respects a very useful idea; but just because it is a mere idea, it is altogether incapable, by itself alone, of enlarging our knowledge in regard to what exists. It is not even competent to enlighten us as to the possibility of any existence beyond that which is known in and through experience. The analytic criterion of possibility, as consisting in the principle that bare positives (realities) give rise to no contradiction, cannot be denied to it. But since the realities are not given to us in their specific characters; since even if they were, we should still not be in a position to pass judgment; since the criterion of the possibility of synthetic knowledge is never to be looked for save in experience, to which the object of an idea cannot belong, the connection of all real properties in a thing is a synthesis, the possibility of which we are unable to determine a priori. And thus the celebrated Leibniz is far from having succeeded in what he plumed himself on achieving—the comprehension a priori of the possibility of this sublime ideal being.

The attempt to establish the existence of a supreme being by means of the famous ontological argument of Descartes is therefore merely so much labour and effort lost; we can no more extend our stock of [theoretical] insight by mere ideas, than a merchant can better his position by adding a few noughts to his cash account.