## 1. Biographical sketch


Herbart was born on May 4, 1776, in
Oldenburg.[1]
He displayed precocious philosophical talent, writing on the
philosophy of Wolff and Kant in his early teens. His early education
emphasized music, which would be reflected in his later
writings.[2]
His first teacher was his mother, who home-schooled him for many
years, and later followed him to Jena, where he matriculated in
1794. There he met Fichte, becoming a member of his inner
circle. Already by 1794, however, Herbart took a critical stance
towards the
 *Wissenschaftslehre*.[3]
 Still, it was Fichte who set the general
problem of Herbart's life work: the ego and self-consciousness
(cf. James 1890, Vol. I: 353-4; Beiser 2014: 101).


While working as a private tutor to a Swiss family from 1796 to
1800, Herbart met Pestalozzi, the great Swiss educator and theorist of
pedagogy. Pestalozzi's critique of traditional instructional
means and ends, and his emphasis on developing the pupil's
autonomy, would permanently stamp Herbart's own pedagogic
thought (Beiser 2014: 101). During this period, Herbart struggled to
find his way out of Fichte's shadow and discover his own system
(Beiser 2014: 102-3). After personal trials involving his
mother, Herbart moved to Gottingen, where he passed his doctoral
and habilitation exams, lecturing there from 1802-1804. In his
inaugural lecture on Plato's theory of forms Herbart first
mentions his "method of relations", the logical basis for
his metaphysical thought (see Section 2,
below). While at Gottingen, he published the major
works, *Allgemeine Padagogik* (*General Pedagogy*,
1806a), *Hauptpuncte der Metaphysik* (*Basic Points of
Metaphysics*, 1806b); and *Allgemeine practische
Philosophie*, 1808). When Gottingen came under French
occupation in 1806, Herbart's situation there grew increasingly
difficult.


He therefore gladly accepted an offer from Konigsberg to
become the second successor to Kant's chair in 1809 (Beiser
2014: 130-1). From his outpost in East Prussia, he watched the
triumph of German Idealism and Romanticism with despair (Beiser 2014:
93; see the preface to his [1822; SW V: 94]). His 1814 essay, with the
acid title, "Concerning My Quarrel with the Philosophy *du
Jour* [*Ueber Meinen Streit mit der Modephilosophie dieser
Zeit*]", attacks the philosophy of Schelling and its
reliance on intellectual intuition (SW III: 317-52; cf. Beiser
2014: 132-4). It was during his Konigsberg years that
Herbart developed his psychology in works like "Psychological
Remarks on the Doctrine of Tones" (1811), the *Lehrbuch zur
Psychologie* (*Teaching Text for Psychology*; 1816), and
his monumental *Psychologie als Wissenschaft* (*Psychology
as Science*; two volumes, 1824, 1825). In 1833, Herbart returned
to Gottingen, where he resided until his death on August 14,
1841.


## 2. Logic and metaphysics


Aside from Herbart's textbook presentation of traditional
logic (e.g., Section II of LEP), his main logical innovation is his
so-called method of relations, devised as an organon for correct
metaphysical thinking (SW V: 201, f.). The metaphysical problems it
aims to address include: the thing as (one) substance with (many)
characteristics; causality; matter; and the ego. He considers these
problematic because they give rise to an empirically given, yet
self-contradictory concept (Weiss 1928: 37). Due to space constraints,
we will here only briefly touch on the problems of thing and ego, the
former for its role in the development of apperception, the latter
because it is grounds his psychology. Both his idea of metaphysics and
the method of relations will become clearer as we see them used to
explain concrete psychological phenomena in Section
3.


The problems of both thing and ego may be stated thus: there is a
conflict between an alleged unity, on the one hand, with an
empirically manifest plurality, on the other. We consider a thing to
be one substance, yet possessing a number of conflicting qualities;
and we regard the self as a single entity conscious of many
thoughts. But *is* the thing the one, or its many
qualities? *Is* the self or psyche the one, or its thoughts? Herbart
maintains that this dilemma arises due to a missing link, one that can
only be supplied by "speculation". Speculative use of the
method of relations would have us consider the conflicting elements not as
distinct entities in genuine opposition, but rather as members of a
unifying relation. For example, the "thing" turns out to
be the *nexus* or system of (its) predicates, and nothing else
beyond them (cf. Beiser 2014: 118). Similarly, Herbart regards the
psyche not as a substance, but simply as the condition of mental
change itself.


He follows Kant in distinguishing between conscious phenomena and
unknowable noumena that must be conceived as underwriting the
coherence that *experience* finds in the fluctuating phenomenal
manifold. The noumena are "speculative", by which Herbart
does not mean objects of intellectual intuition, but rather the
transcendental conditions of the synthetic unity of objects of
experience. Yet where Kant held noumena to be unknowable, Herbart
takes the further step of ascribing to every existent "an act of
self-preservation", a notion as opaque as it is important to his
psychology (SW II: 195). The idea seems to be that every being must
have an inherent force holding it together, or there would be no
reason to suppose its continued existence: "the idea of a force
to maintain one's identity" just is
"self-preservation" (Beiser 2014: 120).


In short, the method of relations is a way of doing metaphysics
with strong Platonic and Kantian overtones: the fluctuating and
conflicting plurality of sensible experience is "related"
back to intelligible, "speculative" unities that allow us
to organize the plurality in experience. Thus, the method does more
than merely analyze contradiction; it also resolves them by
supplying the intelligible links. We will take these points up in more
detail as they arise in Herbart's psychology.


## 3. Psychology


### 3.1 Introduction


The main motive of speculative thinking, then, is the resolution of
apparent contradictions continuously arising in experience. In
particular, such contradictions arise when essentially opposed
concepts are thought together as unities. This problem of the unity of
opposites also arises in the case of the psyche, which is at once a
unity and multiplicity: for it is one consciousness of innumerable
representations (SW V: 307). Hence it is psychology's task to
explain how the ego can arise as one out of a multiplicity of
conjoined or conflicting inner states.


#### 3.1.1 Critique of faculty psychology


The metaphysical assumption of the soul's simplicity
immediately puts Herbart at odds with the traditional
"psychology of faculties", according to which mental
phenomena and conscious processes are derived from
"special[ized] powers of the psyche" (Weiss 1928: 69;
cf. esp. PsW: 11, ff.; Beiser 2014: 136,
ff.).[4] He
attacks this view, held prominently by Kant, with a battery of
arguments. First, he claims that these so-called faculties are really
nothing more than class concepts (PsW: 16). While we may tend to
ascribe individual instances of recall to a faculty called
"memory", this term is just a catchall for the
instances. Rather than a "power", it is an abstraction,
and hence no explanation of the phenomena from which it has been
abstracted (PsW: 25, ff.; cf. LPs [1850]: 8-9). Second, the
theory fails to account for the




> causal relation among the psychic faculties,
> through which, acting in concert, they interact and mutually prompt or
> induce or force each other to act. (PsW: 28 [=SW V: 199])
> 
> 
> 


 Third, psychic powers seem engaged in a war of
all against all, forcing us to presume an irremediably fractured self
(PsW: 28; 29; cf. 131). Herbart's fourth and gravest complaint
is that the theory of faculties ignores the particular, and neglects
exact description, the *sine qua non* of empirical science
(PsW: 27).


#### 3.1.2 Psychology as a future science


He therefore proposes to construct a new
system,[5]
analogous to physics (*Naturforschung*: PsW: 10), to avoid the
pitfalls and disprove the theory of faculties (LPs [1850]:
5).[6] The new
psychology must, like the natural sciences, assume that all phenomena
are governed without exception by a set of laws, which scientists
seek out through the establishment of the facts; prudent conclusions;
tested and corrected hypotheses (LPs [1850]: 9); and, wherever
possible, through the measurement of magnitudes and mathematical
calculation (PsW: 10). Similarly, Herbart argues, our mental
representations are subject to a system of laws that let us discern
the regularities of their interactions (cf. SW V: 195).


#### 3.1.3 Critique of introspection


To discover the laws, we must first identify and exactly describe
individual mental representations without recourse to contrived
faculties, for representations are the sole elements of our actual
mental life (PsW: 16). He identifies three possible ways of
identifying these principles of consciousness:


1. self-observation (either intentional or inadvertent) (PsW: 18,
19);
2. interpretation of the products of my own activity;
3. testimony and observation of others (PsW: 10; cf. Section I of the
Introduction [SSSS1-6]).


 Each of these paths has its drawbacks. (1) Intentional or
self-conscious introspection interferes in the natural operation of
psychic processes (LPs [1850]: 8). Even if introspection happens
incidentally, Herbart points out that the observer always already
introduces some prior knowledge of himself that colors the resulting
observation (SW V: 192; cf. [1840]: 36). (2) Interpretation of the
products of my own activity obviously cannot serve to reveal the
principles, since the products are *ex hypothesi* already
removed from those principles. Rather, the products of conscious
activity are the very phenomena of which our science must seek the
causes (PsW: 20-21; SW V: 194). Finally, (3) the interpretation
of others is inadequate because in addition to its inherent
unreliability, even the most faithful testimony again depends on
the *informant's* introspection. Moreover, the
psychologist's interpretation of that testimony will require
comparison with his own knowledge of his inner conditions, so that the
drawbacks of introspection make themselves felt from two sides, not just one
(SW V: 198).[7]


#### 3.1.4 Metaphysics and the method of relations


The aforementioned ways of capturing the prime facts of psychology
are all defective; no true science can content itself with such
inadequate material. So Herbart turns to his method of
relations. Only insofar as a particular representation may be picked
out of the "whole mass of inner perceptions" (PsW: 33),
in order to serve as a known relatum, standing in relation to some
other, as yet unknown relatum--i.e., its condition of
possibility--only to that extent does it function as a principle of
psychology (PsW: 15).[8]
 Psychology, if it is to be scientific, must
supplement and *complete* the empirical material (as such but
a wild flux) by way of a principle of determinate stability:
psychology aims to "prove--by means of what perception
cannot attain--the nexus of what has let itself be
perceived" (PsW: 32; cf. PsW: 131; Weiss 1928: 72-3). But
thinking the empirically given with the aid of something hidden is
only possible through metaphysics, which explains *all* being
(*Seiendes*) (Hartenstein 1850: viii-ix; cf. esp. PsW:
32-3). Only in this way can empirical psychic facts be brought
under a universal set of laws and overcome their isolation from
physical phenomena (Weiss 1928: 73). Universal metaphysical
principles, valid across the psychophysical schism, provide the
framework within which the psychic facts can be
"completed" and become proper objects of scientific
understanding.


#### 3.1.5 Calculation


The paradigm of physics suggests that phenomenal laws can be gained
through experiment, instrumentation (measurement), and
calculation. But of these three paths only calculation is available
to psychology.[9]
 Calculation alone can reveal the basic laws
and concepts of the psyche; psychic phenomena are then to be traced
back or "reduced" to these rules; and in this way an
"interconnected order" of the psychic manifold may be
constructed, analogous to the one physics provides to external,
sensible phenomena. As he puts it in "On Analogies, with Respect to the Foundation of Psychology",




> mathematics [is] not applied to concepts that
> come from naked, immediate experience in the manner of empiricism, but
> from experience *as processed through metaphysics*, and which
> [concepts, then,] returns, aided by mathematics, to
> experience. (Herbart 1840b: 185)
> 
> 
> 


 Thus, the traditional highest "generic
concepts" of representation, feeling, and desire that were
formulated via an unscientific and chaotic process of abstraction,
must be replaced by whatever rules calculation may reveal (LPs [1850]:
8).


To sum up Herbart's approach: all mental life manifests
itself in constant temporal flux and continuous mutation, as "a
manifold of variegated determinations in one [*in
Einem*]", and ultimately, as self-consciousness (LPs [1850]:
11-12; cf. PsW: 30). We must therefore begin with general
metaphysical or "speculative" postulates to compensate for
the obstacles to pure observation of psychic life, and so postulate
the simplicity of the soul (cf. Beiser 2014: 138). Beyond this,
however, psychology must avail itself of mathematics, in that




> representations must be viewed as forces, whose
> effective power depends on their strength [or intensity], their
> oppositions, and their connections, all of which differ in
> degree. (LPs [1850]: 12)
> 
> 
> 


 We now turn to the heart of Herbart's
psychology, namely just this "force-interpretation" of
mental representations, and the mathematical manipulation it makes
possible.


### 3.2 Rules of Representations


It is Herbart's radical contention that consciousness is
nothing more than the continuous stream of representations.
[10] 
These representations, he says cryptically, are the
"self-preservations of the soul [*Selbsterhaltungen der
Seele*]" (PsW: 171). That is, as we saw, because the soul
(the terms, "psyche" and "soul", will be used
interchangeably in this article) is postulated to be simple and
"originally an utter *tabula rasa*, without any life or
thought" (SW VI: 120), the evident multiplicity of conscious
representations generates a paradox (PsW: 171). Since the soul is by
nature simple, the source of any psychic differentiation must be
sought outside of it, viz., among the "objects" that
affect it through the senses (PsW: 132). Thus, on the one hand, the
world impinges on and perturbs the soul's natural placidity
(cf., e.g., the *Mandukya*
Upanisad; PsW: 132-3; but see Felsch 1904: 196-7);
on the other hand, the soul resists these disturbances (i.e., the
representations themselves) by constantly seeking to reestablish a
harmonious unity or equilibrium among them and thus
"preserve", as far as possible, its own simplicity.


Psychology's task, then, is to explain how the various
representations mutually resolve each other to attain maximal unity
(Weiss 1928: 73). They do this in two ways. First, wherever there are
several representations of the same kind, they "merge"
into a single representational activity ("*... Ein
intensives Thun*", PsW: 171; Herbart 1811; Boudewijnse, et
al. 1999: 170). On the other hand, if representations are of different
or opposed kinds, they "inhibit" each other
"quantitatively" (PsW: 129-30). Simply put, two
representations present in consciousness may either resemble each
other or not. If the former, then they will merge into one, stronger
representation, and unity will be attained in this way. If they
differ, then they will struggle against each other, each trying to
negate the other as far as possible. In the latter case, the
representing activity remains constant, its essential simplicity
expressing itself in each representation's endeavor to become
the sole object of consciousness.


Now, as they struggle to negate each other, each of the two
opposing representations is, as Herbart puts it, inhibited
(*gehemmt*) by the other (PsW: 130; SW V: 274, f.). We may
liken his conception of consciousness, then, to a single, general
psychic activity--call it
"representing"--which, like the surface of a pool in
a rainstorm, is disturbed by multitudinous sensory contact with
realia. Each disturbance has the effect of differentiating the
"surface"; and since that surface just *is* the
activity of representing, each individual ripple takes part in that
activity. Which is to say: instead of a general, undifferentiated
representing activity of pure consciousness, we now have in each
disturbance a particular instance of representing, i.e., *a
representation*. Just as the ripples caused by two raindrops will
interfere and conflict with each other, they nevertheless share a
common substrate--the water--that makes both their
being and conflict possible in the first place: they are
ripples *of* water. So too each representation, as a ripple of
consciousness, shares in the latter's essence, viz., the
activity of representing (here the analogy to water breaks down,
since water is not *per se* an activity). This active nature
helps explain why Herbart often seems to suggest that individual
representations possess their own energy or
will[11] to
survive and prevail over others. It is simply a manifestation of
consciousness's own activity and "will" to maintain
its essential simplicity, which is why he calls representations
"self-preservings of the soul".


On Herbart's view, rather than thinking
of *Vorstellungen* as static, image-like things or products of
an antecedent act of
 representing,[12]
 we should instead think of them as
individual conscious activities, i.e., atomic 
represent-*ings*.[13]
 Thus he can speak of the
representation's "activity" persisting even when
its "effect"--i.e., my awareness of
it--"is held back by something alien to it". Now
when an activity is held back or inhibited from expressing itself, we
call it a "striving" (*Streben*). Therefore, since
the many competing representations striving one against the others
are all ultimately the self-preservings of *one*
consciousness, *one* psyche, he groups them all together as
single manifold within the same subject, as "one
striving-to-represent [*ein Streben, vorzustellen*]"
(PsW: 130; cf. LPs: 370; SW V: 274, f.). Herbart's theory seems
to be confirmed by the common experience of our ideas brightening
(*Erhellen*: SW V: 279; cf. Boudewijnse, et al. 1999: 170) and
dimming (*Verdunkeln*, lit., "darkening", PsW:
130; cf. Boudewijnse, et al. 1999: 170), waning, vanishing, and
suddenly returning. But experience does not reveal the *laws*
according to which representations come and go in the mind. How can
they be rendered calculable, and thus susceptible to scientific
understanding?


Herbart proceeds as follows. As we have seen, insofar as
representations conflict with each other in their struggle to find a
place in consciousness, they inhibit
(*hemmen*)[14]
 each other; an inhibited representation is
correspondingly dimmed or obscured (*verdunkelt*); and to the
degree that a representation is inhibited from full expression, it is
transformed into a striving (*Streben*) (cf. esp*.*
PsW: 133-4). Thus, it is reasonable, he argues, to think of the
interplay of representations as psychological analogues of physical
forces (*Krafte*) (LPs: 369; cf. Boudewijnse, et
al. 1999: 163; Weiss 1928: 74). When a representation dims, one can
also say that it "falls" or "sinks" from
awareness; when it brightens, that it "rises" into
awareness (Weiss 1928: 75). It is important, however, to note that he
does not say that a representation really is a
"force".[15]
 Rather, several representations *in
opposition* behave in force-like
ways.[16] A
representation, then, expresses force only to the degree to which it
is inhibited; and it is inhibited by another representation only if
the latter is opposed to it in some way. Hence, just as this
opposition does not belong essentially to either representation, so
too their force-like behavior is only formal and contingent
("*Gradweise*", PsW: 134-5; cf. SW V:
278).


Representations oppose each other by degrees, as we see in the case
of colors and tones (PsW: 135-6). This has important
implications. Since the inhibitions immediately result from
representations' mutual opposition, these inhibitions, too, are
graduated, as are, consequently, the gradual dimming of the
(represented) object and the transformation of a representation into a
striving-to-represent: all these phenomena are to be thought of as
graduated over a spectrum (PsW: 136). In short, the degree of
opposition among representations sets one of two conditions for a
degree of dimming. The second condition is the intensity with which
each representation initially appears in the psyche. That is,
representations





> may originally be either weaker or stronger, even
> without inhibition; we originally ascribe to all of our perceptions a
> certain degree [of native vivacity]. (SW V: 279)
> 
> 


In Herbart's conception of representations as opposing each
other by degrees we find the cornerstone of his innovative application
of mathematics to psychology, and thus of developing a
"physics" of mind. He writes:

 
> 
> 
> If we now connect ... the difference between representations in
> terms of their intensity 
> [*Starke*],[17]
>  on the one hand, with the magnitude of their
> mutual opposition, on the other, then this yields in each case the
> magnitude of the resulting dimming, inhibition, [and] striving; and
> so too [the magnitude] of the remaining actual representation. Here
> calculation [*Rechnung*] finds its appropriate matter. (PsW:
> 136; cf. SW V: 279)


Extending his mathematical psychology by analogy to the theory of
motion, Herbart complements his psychic statics (PsW: 139), or
doctrine of representational equilibrium, with a psychic mechanics
(PsW: 208), or doctrine of movement of these "mental
bodies" over time (PsW: 137; cf. Boudewijnse, et al. 1999:
163). It is to these that we now turn.


### 3.3 Statics of spirit


As we have seen, on Herbart's view, representations are the
perturbations, i.e., the individual or atomic representings that
present as pictures the real objects that, through the senses,
disturb the simple, continuous representing that is consciousness
(PsW: 135). Any representation, taken in isolation,
is *fully* determined by the real object it presents to
consciousness. Thus, since "representation" just means
the generation and maintenance of the presented picture, the concept
of representation, as such, contains neither the notion of striving,
nor of any activity directed beyond itself (PsW: 134-5). But
this Parmenidean state of a single atomic presentation, a
"well-rounded sphere" completely bathed in the light of
awareness, never obtains in reality. Instead, various streams of new
representations constantly come flowing into consciousness, and of
these representations, many oppose each other. We might picture these
atoms as elastic[18]
 balls streaming into the narrow
beam[19] of
awareness, jostling and crowding those already bobbing on the surface
of consciousness. Depending on the strength and vivacity of these
balls, some will remain floating, but most will quickly be pressed
down, to some extent, through the surface and out of the light, which
phenomenon was called "inhibition", above.


This picture, fanciful though it may be, can nonetheless help us
get a grip on the idea of the "inhibition-sum"
(*Hemmungssumme*), which plays a key role in Herbart's
psycho-statics, but which he and his commentators treat in a very
abstract, mathematical way. The idea is simply this: should two
representations (to take the simplest case) oppose each other, then
this opposition immediately causes them to squeeze and jostle each
other, for they cannot both fully express themselves or be completely
present to consciousness at the same time, as introspection readily
confirms. Rather, they crowd (*drangen*) each other;
indeed, each attempts to suppress or even completely crowd
out *(verdrangen*) the other. As our picture suggests,
this opposing and crowding is not a state but a movement, a
"*Conflict*" or struggle to dominate, which takes
time to reach a resolution (LPs, SW IV: 371 [SS127]). The laws
governing this movement are treated by mechanics (see following
section), whereas statics deals with the end-state, i.e., the
equilibrium that temporarily resolves the struggle, which Herbart
terms the "static point" (*der statische Punct*)
(cf. LPs, SW IV: 371 [SS128]). This equilibrium is reached when
each representation expresses itself to the greatest degree possible,
given the countervailing pressure of the other. The two elastic balls
reach a state, in other words, where each presses or inhibits the
other, but neither can increase that pressure further. So they come
to rest in a state of mutual inhibition, in which neither
"shines" as brightly as it would if unimpeded by the
other.[20]
What Herbart calls the "inhibition-sum", then, is the
total of the opposed inhibitory forces, i.e., the total inhibiting
exerted by the opposed representations upon each other, *in a
state of resting equilibrium*. With this preliminary description
in hand, let us turn to Herbart's mathematical
presentation.


#### 3.3.1 "Inhibition sum" and "inhibition ratio"


All psycho-static investigations are ultimately based on two
determinations of psychic magnitude: (1) the
"inhibition-sum" (*Summe der Hemmung*
or *Hemmungssumme*); (2) the "inhibition relation",
or better, "inhibition-ratio"
(*Hemmungs-Verhaltniss*).


##### 3.3.1.1 "Inhibition sum"


In 3.3, I called the inhibition-sum the total of
opposed inhibitory forces in the system of two (or more) opposed
representations; Herbart himself likens it to




> the load [*Last*], generated by the
> oppositions among the representations, that is to be distributed
> [across the opposed representations]. (LPs: 371; cf. SW V:
> 284)
> 
> 


He uses a thought-experiment to derive the mathematical expression
of the basic laws of representational "motion", that is,
the laws according to which our mental representations interact with
each other. Under normal conditions, representations are of different
strengths, and so oppose each other with differential intensity,
making a clear statement of their underlying laws difficult. Herbart
therefore first considers an ideal case, the extreme at which two
representations are "fully opposed" one to another, that
is, one is completely inhibited, so that the other may remain
unconstrained (PsW: 139). Under such circumstances,




> the most that can occur is the complete
> "sinking" of the former, i.e., a complete extinction of
> its represented content [*ihres Vorgestellten*] through the
> transformation of all its activity into a mere striving against its
> opposed [representation]. (PsW: 139; SW V: 281)
> 
> 
> 


 In other words, the former representation would
be completely suppressed (*verdrangt*) (SW V: 281).


Herbart next posits a second
idealized[21]
case, in which the opposition is only partial, not
"full", as above. In this case, he says, one
representation could remain fully uninhibited even if the other were
inhibited only to a certain degree (PsW: 139,
ff.)[22] He
now asks: Given representations *a* and *b*, by how
much would each of the two completely opposed representations be
inhibited? The inhibition of each individual
representation may be found only if we *first* know the
"*inhibition sum*"
(*S*).[23]




> The sum of the inhibition [i.e., the total of the
> inhibitive force of both representations] is the quantum of the
> represent*ing* [*des Vorstellens*] that must be
> inhibited by the mutually opposing representations added
> together. (PsW: 140; SW V: 282)
> 
> 
> 


 Put another way, the inhibition sum *S*
equals the inhibition of *a* (i.e., \(I\_a\)) plus the inhibition of *b*
(i.e., \(I\_b\)), where both \(I\_a\) and \(I\_b\) are taken to be as small as
possible.[24]
(We should assume a minimal inhibition here since the natural state of
representations is that of full liberty or radiance, which they always
strive to reach as nearly as possible [SW V: 283].) Let us now return
to the case in which representations, *a* and *b* are
fully opposed. In this case, Herbart writes, "*either a, or
b* must *be* the inhibition sum" (SW V:
282). If *a* is the stronger, then it will be *b* that
is fully inhibited and dimmed. What is the minimal necessary magnitude
of the inhibitory force that *a* exercises upon *b*?
Exactly *b*, since beyond this amount there would be no cause
for *a* to exert a dimming effect.


It turns out, however, that in either of the two cases (i.e., the
case of full inhibition and the case of partial inhibition), the
weaker representation turns out *not* to be totally inhibited,
since a part of *S* must also fall onto the other
representation (SW V: 282; cf. SW IV: 371, SS130). Why? Because,
after all, *S* is conceived as




> in effect the load distributed over the different
> representations that must bear it, viz., all of the antagonistically
> striving [representations]. (SW V: 282)
>  
> 
> 


 Hence, since a portion of *S* is borne
by the countervailing representation, the weaker representation can
(and must) remain uninhibited by just that amount. If we presuppose
the total opposition of representations, then we can extend the above
determination from two to any number of representations, so
that *a* would be opposed by \(b, c, d, \ldots n\). *S*
would then not be smaller than \((b + c + d + \ldots + n)\), but also
not larger.




> For if all those [representations] were
> completely suppressed, then the strongest [i.e., *a*] would
> remain completely uninhibited. (SW V: 284)
> 
> 


##### 3.3.1.2 "Inhibition ratio"


Herbart next considers the proportion in which the inhibition sum
is spread out over the various, mutually antagonistic representations;
this proportion is what he calls the "inhibition-ratio"
(SW V: 285, ff. [SS43]). The calculation of the inhibition ratio
may not consider an individual representation as "an originally
aggressive force [*angreifende Kraft*], but only as a resisting
force [*widerstehende Kraft*]", since, as we saw above,
representations can on Herbart's view only be considered to be
force-*like* insofar as they resist one another, not "in
themselves" (SW V: 285). Nonetheless, a representation will
better resist countervailing forces and assert itself against other
representations, "the more vivacious
[*starker*]" it is (SW V: 285). Hence, he argues,
the share of the load, *S*, that a representation must bear is
inversely proportional to its vivacity: \(1/i\), where
"\(i\)" signifies vivacity (SW V: 285-6; SW IV:
371).[25]


Earlier, we hypothesized *a* and *b* to stand in full
opposition, where \(a \gt b\) (SW V: 288, ff.). Hence \(S = b\),
and *S* distributes itself over representations *a*
and *b*. Let the part of *S* borne by *a* be
called "*\(\alpha\)*", and the part borne by *b*,
"*\(\beta\)*".[26]
 Because \(b = S\), it follows that \(\alpha\) + \(\beta\) =
*b*. Since the inhibition sum *S* must for each representation
stand in inverse proportion to its strength, it follows that *\(\alpha\)* : *\(\beta\)*
:: b : a (Weiss 1928: 77). These equations allow us to calculate the
portions of *S* that are distributed to
representations *a* and *b* individually.



\[
\mbox{For \(a\), the portion }= \alpha = \frac{b^2}{a+b}
\]
\[
\mbox{For \(b\), the portion }= \beta = \frac{ab}{a+b}
\]

*\(\alpha\)* and *\(\beta\)* represent the relative dimming of each
representation (Weiss 1928: 77).


When we subtract the calculated portion of the inhibition sum from
each original representation *a* and *b*, then the
remainders "\(R\_a\)" and
"\(R\_b\)"[27]
 designate




> the *degrees* of the remaining vivacity of
> the representations, after the inhibition has caused the previously
> calculated portion of actual representing to be canceled out
> [*aufgehoben*] and transformed into a mere striving. (SW V:
> 288)
> 
> 
> 


 Accordingly, what remains of the original
vivacity following inhibition of *a* and *b*,
respectively, can be expressed as follows (Weiss 1928: 78):



\[
R\_{a} = a - \frac{b^2}{a+b}
\]

\[
R\_{b} = b - \frac{ab}{a+b}
\]

Now if the same conditions obtain for three
representations, *a*, *b*, and *c*,
where *a* is the strongest and *c* the weakest
representation, then the inhibition sum \(S = b + c\) (SW V: 288). As
in the case of two representations above, we can calculate the
remaining degrees of clarity (*Klarheitsgrade*) after
inhibition (SW V: 288-9):



\[
R\_a = a - \frac{(bc) \cdot (b+c)}{bc + ac + ab}
\]
\[
R\_b = b - \frac{(ac) \cdot (b+c)}{bc + ac + ab}
\]
\[
R\_c = c - \frac{(ab) \cdot (b+c)}{bc + ac + ab}
\]

#### 3.3.2 *Limen* or "threshold of consciousness"


Herbart now calculates the remainders \(R\) for different values
for *a* and *b*, and for *a*, *b*,
and *c*, showing that when only two
representations, *a* and *b*, conflict, it is
impossible for \(R\_b \le 0\), i.e., for it to disappear completely
from awareness (SW V: 289-90). However, according to
Herbart's calculations, when three or more representations are
in play, such that \(a \gt b \gt c\), it is possible for \(R\_c\)
... \(\le 0\) (SW V:
289-91).[28]
 This result, while perhaps obscure in its
derivation, is the basis of Herbart's discovery of the concept
of the *limen* or "threshold" of consciousness:
for if, in the opposition of representations *a*, *b*,
and *c*, the inhibition sum *S* is distributed in such a
way that the "remainder" of *c*'s vivacity
is \(\le 0\), then this just means that *a* and *b*
have completely dimmed or crowded out *c* from conscious
awareness (cf. SW IV: 371, SS130).


Still, he warns that we cannot attach any significance to a
"negative representing", since the most that can befall a
representation is total conversion into mere striving-to-represent,
i.e., "that the remainder of actual representing \(=
0\)".[29]
 Now if we let \(R\_c = 0\), then,
substituting into the above mentioned equation (cf. SW V: 291),



\[
0 = c - \frac{(ab) \cdot (b+c)}{bc + ac + ab}
\]
\[
c = b \sqrt{\frac{a}{b+a}}
\]

This formula--the *Schwellenformel*--expresses what Herbart calls the "static threshold
[*statische
Schwelle*]",[30]
 at which representation *c* is
completely eclipsed from consciousness by *a* and *b*
(SW V: 293). Hence any further determination of *c* would be
irrelevant for calculating the *S* for *a*
and *b*:




> thus, the condition of consciousness, insofar as
> it may be statically determined, in no wise depends upon *c*
> ... not to mention upon *even weaker* representations,
> which might be present in an infinite number without in the least
> being noticed in consciousness, so long as it was and remained in a
> state of equilibrium of all the representations. (SW V:
> 292)
> 
> 


Herbart immediately applies his discovery of the *limen* and
the possibility of a representation's suppression beneath it. On
the one hand, we notice, he says, that the mind is at any given moment
preoccupied with a tiny fraction of the total number of cognitions,
thoughts, or desires that *might* appear in our consciousness,
given an appropriate stimulus (SW V: 292). This knowledge,




> absent, yet not annihilated, but rather remaining
>  in our possession: in what condition is it within us? How does it
>  happen that, although it is present, it nonetheless does not
>  contribute to the determination of our state of mind until we recall
>  it? What can prevent--sometimes for a long time--our most
>  vivid convictions, best resolutions, and most refined feelings, from
>  being effectual? What can imbue them with the unfortunate inertia by
>  which they abandon us to vain
>  regret? (SW V: 292)
> 
> 


 The answer is simply: "*Other
thoughts* have occupied us too vividly!" and therefore left
that "knowledge" hovering beneath the *limen*. This
simple solution, Herbart argues, in one stroke obviates the need for
"false doctrines of transcendental freedom or of radical
evil" (SW V: 292).


To sum up: One representation cannot so crowd out a second, since
the remainder of \(b\), (i.e., \([R\_b]\)), can never \(= 0\). On the other hand, two
representations suffice to crowd out a third completely out of
consciousness, making it incapable of affecting the state of mind
(*Gemuthszustand*); and this is all the more the case for
further representations with a weaker vivacity than *c* (SW V:
292). The *limen* is determined as a limit
("*Granze*") below which a representation is
fully inhibited, but crossing which, it achieves a "degree of actual
representing" (SW V: 292). The notion of a degree of
representing allows Herbart to speak of representations
"rising" and "sinking", and of representations
lying more or less deeply beneath the *limen* (SW V:
293). "Consciousness", then, just *is* "the
totality of coincident representing", and the representations at
play in the arena of awareness make out the "state of
mind" (SW V: 294; cf. SW IV: 372, SS130). Thus Herbart
concludes that the psyche's apparent property of being only able
to activate a very small number of representations
simultaneously *is no property at all*. Rather, it is the
necessary consequence of the oppositions among our representations
themselves, and thus dependent on their native vivacity
(cf. Boudewijnse, et al. 1999: 178-9).


#### 3.3.3 Fusions and complications




The soul's unity that we encountered in 3.2 functioned as the
metaphysical principle of the inhibition of opposed representations in
3.3.1-2. Now, again, unity is the principle by which the
unification of certain representations might be explained (cf. SW V:
307). We must keep in mind that our sensations
(*Sinnesempfindungen*) form various continua, "sense
dimensions" (Boudewijnse, et al. 1999: 179), or
"modalities" (Boring 1950: 258), e.g., of color or taste
and smell (PsW: 171; SW V: 307, f.). Within one and the same
continuum, individual representations are opposed to each other, while
representations from generically different continua are not (SW V:
307).[31] Thus
representations lying on one continuum will mutually dim each other to
a certain degree (SW V: 308). So, whereas a number of colors, like
"white, red, black, blue", will inhibit and dim each
other, none of them can oppose and inhibit a taste representation (the
example is at Weiss 1928: 80; cf. SW V: 312, f). Therefore, as
representations may belong to the same or different continua, there
must be, respectively, two different genera of representational
unification (SW V: 308).


##### 3.3.3.1 Fusions


In the former case, in which representations are of the same type,
they will inhibit each other according to the degree of their
difference and only join together so far as inhibition permits it (SW
V: 308).[32]
Their strength and opposition will determine "the law governing
the precise nature of their unification", which Herbart calls
the "fusion" (*Verschmelzung*) of representations
(SW V: 308-9).[33] 
Examples might include blue and red fusing into
the representation, "purple" (Boring 1950: 258). Two
generically similar, and therefore opposed, representations will
strive to fuse with one another, on account of the unity of the
psyche. When they melt into one another as far as their mutual
opposition permits, they reach what Herbart calls the "fusion
point [*Verschmelzungspunkt*]" (Weiss 1928: 82).


##### 3.3.3.2 Complications


Take two representations belonging to two distinct types, e.g., a color,
\(a\), and a sound, \(\alpha\) (SW V: 308). Now, on the one hand, no
inhibition is possible across continua, i.e., so \(a\) will not dim
\(\alpha\). On the other hand, *ex hypothesi*, there is no
second representation *within* each respective continuum to
oppose and inhibit either of the two representations (cf. Felsch
1902: 5; Weiss 1928: 82). For these two reasons, they can
unite *completely*, and are for purposes of calculation
treated as a single force or single act, \(A\) (SW V: 309; cf. Felsch
1902: 5).[34]
Such unifications are "complete complications
[*Komplikationen*]", or "foldings-together"
(SW V: 308).[35]



Now imagine that the two heterogeneous representations \(a\) and
\(\alpha\) are joined by representations belonging, respectively, to
the same types as those already present, e.g., color-representations,
\(b\) and \(c\), and sound representations, \(\beta\) and \(\gamma\)
(SW V: 308). Here \(b\) and \(c\)'s appearance in the same
color continuum as \(a\) results in the mutual inhibition of \(a\),
\(b\), and \(c\), so that \(b\) and \(c\) amount to what Herbart
calls an "incidental obstacles" to the complete
complication of \(a\) and \(\alpha\) (SW V:
309).[36]
(The same of course holds for \(\alpha\), \(\beta\), and \(\gamma\).)
Hence \(a\) and \(\alpha\) can at best join in an "incomplete
complication" (SW V: 309). Clearly these make up the vast
majority of our compound representations (Felsch 1902: 5).


Finally: suppose that in one continuum, \(a\) is inhibited by \(b\)
to a remainder \(r\); whereas in another continuum, \(\alpha\) is
inhibited by \(\beta\) down to remainder \(\rho\) (SW V:
317).[37]
Then




> remainders \(r\) and \(\rho\) will combine
> themselves to a total force [*Totalkraft*] which, however,
> cannot be separated from the [two] whole representations \(a\) and
> \(\alpha\), which are not completely connected. (SW V: 317)
> 
> 
> 


 If, \(a\) were now threatened with further
inhibition by a newly arising representation, \(c\), then because of
the combined *Totalkraft*, \(\alpha\) would in effect
"help" \(a\) resist the force of
\(c\).[38]
Herbart calculates \(\alpha\)'s cooperative power at
\(\frac{\rho\cdot r}{\alpha}\) (SW V: 317-8; SW IV: 375).


### 3.4 Mechanics of spirit


#### 3.4.1 Representational "motion"


Herbart's transition from psycho-statics to mechanics
exhibits a counterintuitive order similar to that encountered above,
in calculating the inhibition sum *before* calculating
inhibition ratio (i.e., calculating the load before its
distribution). Thus, we should note that psycho-statics describes the
laws of a state reached *after* the laws of psycho-mechanics
have operated on a given set of representations. To clarify:
considered *per se*, representations are uninhibited,
radiating at full strength (SW V: 338; PsW: 208). When two or more
representations appear at once in consciousness, they conflict, and
over time inhibit or dim each other's radiance until they reach
equilibrium (SW V: 338).[39]
 That balanced *end-state*, and the
distribution of the inhibitory load upon each representation at that
end-state, is the concern of psycho-statics. Psycho-mechanics, by
contrast, studies the laws of representational motion, i.e., the laws
governing the preceding conflict between representations
that *leads to* equilibrium (SW IV: 371). By
"motion", Herbart means the falling (and rising) of
representations with respect to the static threshold, or, more
precisely, their dimming (and brightening) with respect to the
threshold of awareness (SW V: 338, 339; Boudewijnse, et al. 1999:
181, ff.; Weiss 1928: 84. Cf. esp. Felsch 1904: 194, f.).


This initial precis of the relation of psycho-statics to
psycho-mechanics is helpful for understanding Herbart's claim
that "the inhibition sum [*S*] must, in accordance with
its law, continuously fall" (SW IV: 341; cf. SW V: 338; Felsch
1904: 195; Boudewijnse, et al. 1999: 182; Weiss 1928: 83, f.). This
statement, on the face of it, is deeply puzzling, and points to a
vexing ambiguity in his usage of the term "inhibition
sum". For by speaking of the "falling" (i.e.,
diminution) of the inhibition sum, Herbart gives the impression that
it is variable. But as our discussion of the inhibition sum above
showed, Herbart in psycho-statics conceives it as the sum of the
(amount of) inhibition each of a number of conflicting
representations must partially "bear" for them all to
reach a state of equilibrium. But this sum is in fact a fixed
quantum,[40]
a constant, dictated by the inherent vivacity of each representation
and the degree of opposition[41]
 among representations. In a case examined
above, *S* is the load *actually borne* by *a*
and *b* when they reach equilibrium (cf. 3.3.1.1).


But psycho-mechanics is concerned not with the condition
of *a* and *b* *in* equilibrium, but *on the
way to* equilibrium. What phenomenon can we witness here
that *could* be called (loosely) the "falling of the
inhibition sum"? Consider now not the end-state of equilibrium,
but rather the beginning of the process. Here, at \(t\_0\), one
representation *a* is joined by a second
representation *b*. At this first instant, the vivacity of
each representation is at its uninhibited
maximum,[42]
and therefore the *forces* of opposition are also maximally
active. Notice now that while, as stated above, *S*, the load
of forces distribut*ed* at equilibrium is a constant already
fixed by the nature of *a* and *b*, these forces,
at \(t\_0\), are not at all distributed but active, with *a*
and *b* bearing *no load* (as yet). Hence, at \(t\_0\),
one could reasonably call these active forces the "inhibition
sum", but not in the sense of the distribut*ed* load,
but rather in the sense of the load-*to-be-distributed*
over *a* and *b*. Let us call the distributed load
"*S*", to remain consistent with the use of the
term in psycho-statics, but let us call the load-to-be-distributed
"\(S\_n\)", to indicate the load to be distributed at
\(t\_n\).[43]


As we saw above, Herbart argues that from the instant at
which *a* and *b* "collide" in
consciousness, to the point of static equilibrium, a period of time
must elapse. While at \(t\_0\), the oppositional forces are at a
maximum,[44]
at \(t\_1\) they will already have dimmed each other to an extent; at
\(t\_2\) this dimming will have progressed even further; etc. Herbart
symbolizes the *combined* amount of the dimmed portion
of *a* and *b* with
"\(\sigma\)".[45]
 Hence we can see that as time passes
and *a* and *b* progressively inhibit each other,
\(S\_n\), the load-to-be-distributed, continuously diminishes: this
is what Herbart means by saying that the inhibition sum falls. And as
\(S\_n\) falls, *\(\sigma\)* increases, that is, the inhibited
amount of *a* and *b* increases since they are taking
on as a load a portion of \(S\_n\). He notes, moreover, that as
\(S\_n\) falls--i.e., the forces' conflicting activity
decreases--the inhibitory pressure they exert also decreases (SW V: 339,
e.g.). Hence, the *rate* of inhibition and dimming decreases
over time as well. The situation can be summarized thus: at
first *a* and *b* stand in maximal conflict, leading to
rapid absorption of these forces in the form of dimming; hence, as
the active forces decrease, the rate of dimming also decreases,
as *a* and *b* jostle ever more slowly into equilibrium
around the static point (cf. Felsch 1904: 196). As Felsch writes,
"the billowing sea is becalmed but by and by" (Felsch
1904: 195).


Now Herbart, in his LPs, rightly calls the laws of psychic motion
"highly diverse and for the most part very knotty", and
restricts his treatment to just one
equation:[46]



 \[ \sigma = S (1 - e^{-t}) \]

where *S* is the inhibition sum (as eventually distributed;
[?] "\(S\_n\)"); \(\sigma\) is the combined amount
of *a* and *b* that has at any time *t* been
inhibited; and *e* is the base of the natural
logarithm.



![[a graph with a red horizontal line labeled S and a blue line starting at coordinates (0,0) and approaching but never reaching the red line labeled s(1-e^{-t}). The x-axis is labeled t and the y axis with Greek letter sigma.]](fig1.png)

We can see from the graph that as *t* grows towards
infinity, \(e^{-t}\) diminishes towards zero, and so \(\sigma\)
approaches, but never reaches *S*. That is, the total amount
of *a* and *b* that is *actually* inhibited never
in a finite time attains the inhibition sum; which, in turn, means
that *a* and *b* never reach complete equilibrium (SW
IV: 372).




> Due to this latter circumstance, in a waking
> person, even in a state of equanimity, the representations are always
> caught up in a gentle floating. (SW IV: 372)
> 
> 


Now one might think that as the representations jostle towards
equilibrium they will become less "conscious
[*bewusst*]" (i.e., less perceptible to consciousness),
and of course this is true for each inhibited representation with
respect to its own (hypothetical) uninhibited start-state. But at
issue here is the clarity of the representations *joined in
opposition*. A moment's reflection suggests that at the
moment of collision, when the inhibition sum \(S\_n\) is highest, neither
representation will be at all clear to consciousness, but on the
contrary, be least perspicuous; considered *separatim*, the
representations will be obscure. Therefore, as \(S\_n\) falls over
time, the representations gradually "rise", becoming more
and more perspicuous and clear, though less *vivacious* than in
a solitary state (cf. Felsch 1904: 195; Weiss 1928: 83).


#### 3.4.2 Reproduction of representations


As we saw earlier, Herbart considers representations to be the
"self-preservings" of the psyche expressed in its, the
psyche's, own nature; their multiplicity stems from those
disturbances which the psyche resists at each moment of its
self-preservation (SW V: 387). Representations, once formed, must
somehow remain in the psyche, or else no self-consciousness would be
possible (SW V: 354; 387). Whenever a given disturbance lasts for a
certain time, the new representations that are constantly springing
into being at every moment begin to accumulate (SW V: 387). For the
psyche's self-preservings and the representations are one and the same, just in different relations (SW V:
401):



> 
> 
> By the word, "representation", we ... mean the
> phenomenon insofar as we may encounter it in consciousness; by
> contrast, the expression, "self-preservation of the psyche
> [*Seele*]" refers to the real act [*realer
> Actus*], which immediately brings forth the phenomenon. This real
> act is not an object of consciousness, for it is the activity itself
> that makes consciousness possible. Thus "self-preservation of
> the psyche" and "representation" go together as
> action and occurrence [*Thun und Geschehen*; i.e., action (and simultaneously
> resulting) occurrence]. (SW V: 401)
> 
> 


The "soul's" self-preservation also continues
when a representation has for a certain time been forced out and
supplanted (*verdrangt*), which is why it can return to
consciousness once the occluding factor goes away (SW IV: 376). This
is the basis of those mental phenomena that Herbart calls
"reproduction of representations" (SW IV: 376).


The conditions under which a representation reappears in
consciousness determine whether its return is called an
"immediate" or a "mediate" reproduction (cf.
Boudewijnse, et al. 1999: 181; 185, ff.). An immediate reproduction
occurs when a hitherto inhibited representation strives back up into
consciousness under its own power, as it were, as soon as the
occluding factor has been neutralized (SW IV: 376). Herbart
writes:



> 
> 
> It is usually the case that a new perception allows the older
> representation of the same or very similar object to step back into
> the light. This occurs in that the new perception pushes back
> everything that happens to be present in consciousness currently
> opposing the older representation. Immediately the older
> [representation] arises of its own accord without further ado. (SW IV:
> 376)
> 
> 


In the case of mediate reproduction, on the other hand, a
representation reenters consciousness not from its own power, but
through the aid of representations with which it is somehow connected.
The partial representations mutually help each other as soon as, and
to the extent that the pressure subsides that suppressed the connection
as a whole (SW IV: 377). Taken together, these two types of
reproduction furnish the foundation for recollection and
memory.[47]


#### 3.4.3 Representational series


Mediate reproduction or recollection plays an important role,
moreover, in the formation of representational series or sequences
(*Vorstellungsreihen*). Time and the quality of the
representations determine the formation of such series (SW V: 410).
Assume that perceptual
representations *a*, *b*, *c* ... appear
sequentially in consciousness, and are not mutually opposed (SW V:
410). Representation *a*, which enters consciousness first, is
quickly opposed by other representations, which inhibit and dim it,
causing it to sink down to the degree
("*Klarheitsgrad*", Weiss 1928:
86), *r*. Next, representation *b* joins it and fuses
with *a*'s remainder, \(r'\). Together, they both
continue to sink, with *b* now becoming *R* and \(r'\)
becoming \(r''\). Representations *c* and *d* ...
join them. The following schema becomes apparent (SW V: 410):



\[
\begin{array}{lllll}
a \\
r & b \\
r' & R & c \\
r'' & R' & \rho & d \\
r''' & R'' & \rho' & \mathfrak{r} & \mbox{etc.} \\
. & . & . & . \\
. & . & . & . \\
. & . & . & . \\
r^{(n)} & R^{(n-1)} & \rho^{(n-2)} & \mathfrak{r}^{(n-3)} & \mbox{etc.}
\end{array}

\]

Now suppose the entire series were suppressed to
the *limen*. If *one* representation-member of the
series were allowed to rise back into consciousness, it would have a
"reproductive effect" upon all its fellows (namely in
accordance with the laws of reproduction laid out in SS88; SW V:
372, ff., esp. 375, f.). If the first representation, *a*,
rises as an "immediate reproduction", it then most quickly
pulls *b* up after it, since *b* is most completely
fused with *r*; but somewhat more slowly *c*, and with
ever decreasing speed, *d*, etc. (Stout calls this the
"evolution" of a series; Stout 1888a: 335). But
if *c*, that is, a representation somewhere in the middle of
the sequence were the first to resurface, then, because it
is *fused* with \(r'\) and *R*--the remnants
of *a* and *b*--these latter will be dragged past
the *limen* simultaneously (Stout calls this the
"involution" of a series; Stout 1888a: 335); on the other
hand, *d*, *e*, ... will follow in succession (SW
V: 410-11).[48]


### 3.5 *Geist* and *Gemuth*: the life of the mind


Herbart is of course very concerned to demonstrate the superiority
of his system over other, traditional conceptions of mind (SW VI: 53).
In particular, he wants to head off critics of mathematical psychology
who argue that "mathematics merely determines quanta, whereas
psychology deals primarily with qualities" (LPs [1850]: 29). He
therefore turns from the statics and mechanics of *Geist* (soul
as representing) to the special theory of the
"*Gemut*" (soul as feeling and desiring), in
order to show how the latter can be incorporated into the former (LPs
[1850]: 29; SW VI: 56, f.).


For Herbart, *Gemut*--which I will here translate
as "disposition"--has its seat within *Geist*;
put another way, it is our *state of mind*. Hence,




> feeling and desire are in the first place states
> [*Zustande*] of representations, to wit, for the most
> part, *mutable* states thereof (LPs [1850]: 29)
> 
> 
> 


 when we feel, something is always simultaneously
represented, and the feeling is contained *in* that
representation (LPs [1850]: 
32).[49]
 Again, when we desire, we always also
represent that which we desire (cf. Aristotle, *Metaphysics*
L7, 1072a26, ff.).


Herbart develops his theory of disposition on the basis of
persisting (*stehende*) and rising (*steigende*)
representations (SW VI:
 57).[50]
 That is, all dispositions must ultimately
be explicable in terms of persisting or rising representations, and
nothing else. Taking first the case of a representation (or
representational series) *R* that stands still in
consciousness, its persistence may be due to the simultaneous and
countervailing forces exerted on it by rising and inhibiting
representations, \(R\_r\) and \(R\_i\), respectively. Hence we
will *feel* the state of *R* as a "compression
[*Klemmung*]" between \(R\_r\) and \(R\_i\) (SW VI: 64;
58; cf. LPs (1850): 31) and such states are "unpleasant
feelings" (SW VI: 59). On the other hand, if a
representation *R* rises, then it may encounter an obstacle
that is not strong enough to prevent it from rising, or it may be
aided by advantageous forces (SW VI: 58-9). Since these forces
affect the real activity of representing, Herbart argues that we
cannot be unconscious of their pressure upon or aid of *R*:




> But these [impingements upon *R*] are not
> [themselves] *objects* of representing, but merely
> the *way* in which the representing is happening; these
> determinations of consciousness, insofar as it transcends the mere
> representing as such, must be called "feelings"
> [*Gefuhle*]. (SW VI: 58)
> 
> 


What then, on Herbart's view, is desire?
"Feelings" accompany representations that, as they rise,
become continuously more "effective" (SW VI: 59). By
"effective", he means that the representation in question
determines more and more representations akin to it, while at the same
time inhibiting those that are not (SW VI: 59). "Desire",
then, is the consciousness of a representation's rising struggle
towards ever-brighter light, and of its corresponding
"tension" as it works itself up and over obstacles (SW VI:
59).


Herbart extends his interpretation of feeling and desire to the
phenomena of affect[51]
 and passion, the "strongest
expressions of feeling and desire [respectively]" (SW VI:
75). In both cases it is important to see that the *force* of
both affect and passion inheres in the representations themselves;
when these forces are compressed or relaxed beyond the static point,
they produce tension within the masses of representations, which
manifests itself as affect (Weiss 1928: 90). Both result from
movements, not of individual representations, but of fused
representational masses well past their point of equilibrium (SW VI:
75; cf. Weiss 1928: 89). Thus, if a "larger amount of actual
representation is raised into consciousness than can subsist there
[all at once]", the result is an "ebullient" affect
(SW VI: 75).[52]
 By contrast, if a larger mass is banished
beneath the *limen*, the psychic barometer falls as well,
resulting in a "melting" affect (SW VI: 75). Just as low
atmospheric pressure provokes stormy weather, so too the
disappearance of a representational mass loosens and unleashes those masses
that remain (SW VI: 75-6). These suddenly far exceed the static
point, their violent expression taking the form, e.g., of rage or
fear (SW VI: 75-6). This also explains why affects are always
transient moods, since representations always strive to return over
time to a state of equilibrium (SW VI:
75).[53]


### 3.6 Spatio(-temporal) representations


Because our desires and feelings are inextricably intertwined with
representations of our environment, we are naturally led to inquire into our perception of things in the world; this in turn
requires an analysis of *types* of spatial and temporal
representation (SW VI: 86). Not concerning himself here
with the abstract concepts of space and time, Herbart instead looks to
the genesis of spatial perception (*raumliche
Auffassungen*) in earliest childhood. He notes that children
irreversibly acquire, through practice, such
perception:



> 
> 
> The child's hand first *learns* to grasp, the eye first
> *learns* to direct itself appropriately; but the adult
> involuntarily achieves what he learned; moreover, the *pure sensible
> perception* [of the child] is obscured by additions that his
> training [*Ausbildung*] mixes in. (SW VI:
> 86)[54]


Similarly, although there are those who can do without
sophisticated, acquired concepts of temporal magnitudes, roughly
noting the slower and the faster, yet once we learn rhythm and the
division of time, we cannot return to the more primitive
state. Herbart thus disputes the notion that space and time are
originary facilities or faculties: the spatial and temporal are
rather *acquired*, "trained, even artificial
conceptions" (SW VI: 86).


Herbart now faces a problem. All spatial and temporal differences,
such as right and left, or earlier and later, lie in the
representation, not in the act of representing (SW VI: 87). Yet
because represent*ing* must precede the represent*ed*,
the soul must, through its representational activity--which,
itself, exhibits no spatio-temporal differences--introduce
spatio-temporal relations into the representation. Yet the
representation is not real; and, *qua
repraesentatum*, it cannot "really
[*wirklich*] be separated out in space or time":
"the actual [*wirkliche*] psychological event of spatial
representing is something altogether non-spatial", just as
"the representing of the temporal is something in which there
is nothing of the *thereby represented* time" (SW VI:
89).[55]


Herbart addresses the problem by appeal to the laws of reproduction
(treated in the section on psycho-mechanics, above) (SW VI: 89). The
represent*ing* (activity) of the spatial must in *some*
way resemble the spatial itself, or else its
spatial *repraesentatum* would in no way be
"spatial". And this resemblance lies in the
multi-dimensional nature of the interweaving of representational
series. As Stout simplifies Herbart's presentation,


 
>  interweaving means that from each term of a
> given series[,] trains of reproduction start, which are in their turn
> at once separated and interconnected by cross-series. On the side of
> the presented content[,] regular mechanical interweaving is
> correlated with the consciousness of a spatial order.... (Stout
> 1888a: 338; SW VI: 89)
> 
> 


It is in this interconnection of "cross-series" that
Herbart identifies the appearance of a lateral or
"neighboring" ordering (*eines **Neben
einander** geordneten*). The crucial element in this order
(which applies not only to space but also to time and number
(cf. Natorp 1910, and esp. SW VI: 110, ff. (SS116)) is the
"gradation in the representations' connection
[*Abstufung in der Verbindung der Vorstellungen*]" laid
out in psycho-mechanics (above) (SW VI: 90). Only now, as we apply
that abstract doctrine to experience, we see that the small number of
representations used for illustrative purposes \((a, b, c, d,
\ldots)\), together with their dimmed remainders \((r, R, \rho,
\mathfrak{r} \ldots)\), are far too few to account for the innumerable
representations generated by the *minima visibilia*
and *tangibilia* of actual experience (SW VI: 90). Herbart
writes:




> With every sense-contact of the spatial, every
> little colored or touchable place [*Stelle*] produces its own
> representation; and every representation fuses with every other. (SW
> VI: 90)
> 
> 
> 


 The picture he paints here is astonishing: as we
see and touch the world--in particular, as one "moves the
observing eye and the touching finger *forwards*
and *backwards*"--not only do we generate an
unfathomable manifold of visible and tangible representations at any
time *t*, but each of these representations in turn produces a
train of innumerable fading, graded fusions with all the others (SW
VI: 90). Thus innumerable series are generated and become interwoven
(Weiss 1928: 92). The constantly generated perceptual representations
gradually sink and shade away, fusing less and less with those
trailing after (SW VI: 90). But at the slightest return (i.e., due to
the finger or eye moving in reverse of its initial direction), all
the earlier percepts, now aided by the very similar new-comers, begin
to rise, which rising is associated with




> a *nisus* [upward pressure] to reproduce
> all those remaining [representation], whose [rising] velocity has
> exactly the same gradations as the earlier [graded] fusions. (SW VI:
> 90)
> 
> 


How does this picture begin to explain the spatial character of
visual and tangible representations? The key is that *any* of
the earlier acquired percepts can, in rising, pull up over
the *limen* *all* the others, to wit, in their ordered
places next to or between each other, and this all the while that
the *act* of representing remains "purely
intensive" (SW VI: 91). Thus the spatiality of our (visual)
representations is a function not of immediate sensation, but of an
interior process that lends perception "spatial form",
namely those already present representations that reappear, governed
by a law according to which each representation affects, in a regular
way, the appearance of the others connected to it (SW VI: 91). Herbart
writes:




> Insofar as the instantaneous [new]
> sense-perception [*Wahrnehmung*] fuses with the already ordered
> representation, it too becomes ordered; and in this way the persisting
> perception is incorporated in a continuous transition to spatial
> form. (SW VI: 91)
> 
> 
> 


 Temporal representations are generated in a
similar way, viz., in accordance with the laws governing the
reproduction of the continuously woven tissue of representations (for
a more detailed account of the generation of temporal representation,
see Stout 1888b: 474, ff.).


### 3.7 Higher cognition


#### 3.7.1 Thinking things


We do not perceive "the spatial" or "the
temporal" as such, but only ever *things* in space,
or *events* in time
 (SW VI: 112).[56]
 Herbart again explains this fact in
terms of the "complete and sufficient explanatory ground"
of the psyche's unity (SW VI: 116). The soul's unity
necessitates that our representations of things, and the events taking
place among them, originally constitute themselves out of the simple
sensations of the particular senses. Therefore, all our
representations would present (*darstellen*) only a single
object that would be neither spatial nor temporal, without parts, and
immune to differentiation--except for the inhibitions and
oppositions that underlie the simple sensations of the particular
senses in their mutual encounters in the psyche (SW VI: 115, e.g.;
cf. Stout 1888b: 478). This is what conditions the multiplicity of
things and events: they are nothing other than the determinate
groupings of sensations *in our consciousness* (Weiss 1928:
93).


#### 3.7.2 Conceptual thinking


But if our sensible representations would, in themselves, present a
simple, partless, Parmenidean object beyond time and space, how is it
that they in fact seem to represent distinct *things* in our
awareness? At first glance Herbart would seem to be presenting the
Kantian picture of a chaotic sensible manifold, upon which a
spontaneous Understanding could work its synthetic operations. But in
keeping with his anti-faculty position, Herbart argues instead for a
kind of "passive synthesis" *avant la lettre* (SW
VI: 116), by which certain representations are connected and collected
into separate unities, but spontaneously, motivated solely from
within, in accordance with the laws of psycho-mechanics and
psycho-statics (cf. esp. SW VI: 114, ff.).


Herbart proceeds by giving a
"naturalized"[57]
 account of concept formation, that is,
of *representation-masses* that, over time, develop into
instruments by which we become conscious of *things*, and
ultimately of ourselves. Thus, while there is "no doubt that
just as concepts arise out of sense-perceptions
[*Wahrnehmungen*], so, too, do clear concepts arise out of
unclear[58]
concepts"--nevertheless, these processes must be explained
without recourse to a *deus ex machina* one calls "the
Understanding" (SW VI: 117).


Anticipating the battles over logical psychologism of the late
19th and early 20th centuries, Herbart carefully
distinguishes between a psychological and a logical sense of
"concept" (SW VI: 119-20; cf. Stout 1888b: 477; van
der Schaar 2013: 83). He writes:




> Every thought [*cogitatum*],
> considered merely according to its quality [sc. *qua
> cogitatum*], is a concept in the logical sense. (SW VI:
> 119)
> 
> 
> 


 By "concept in the logical sense", he means the
represented



> content considered apart from the psychological
> conditions and circumstances of its presentation at this or that time
> to this or that individual mind. (Stout 1888b: 477)
> 
> 
> 


 Thus, concepts offer "a common knowledge
for all men and all times", and, as such, are *nothing
psychological* (SW VI: 120). Psychology, by contrast,
investigates *real* thinking, and tries to determine how
concepts come to be *actually* thought. As a thought-content
of consciousness, then, a "concept" is a representation, namely one
"which has as its represent*ed* [content] the concept in
the *logical* sense" (SW VI: 120), or, as Weiss puts it,
"that representation through which
the *repraesentandum*[59]
 (i.e., the logical concept) is represented
in reality" (Weiss 1928:
 94).[60]


What, then, distinguishes a (psychological) concept from other mental
contents, like sensations, imaginings, or memories? Because the soul
is, *ex hypothesi*, a *tabula rasa*, there are neither
original concepts (like Kant's categories) nor faculties of
concepts (like Kant's Understanding or Reason): "*all
concepts are things that have come to be*" (SW VI: 120;
cf. esp. SW VI: 129, ff.). The incipient concept must therefore find
its origin in the psyche's attempt to preserve itself, that is,
its inherent simplicity, in the face of an outside disturbance. A
representation in the process of coming to be is called a sensation
(*Empfindung*) or perception (*Wahrnehmung*) (SW VI:
120). Upon entering consciousness, it is immediately subject to
inhibition by other, already present representations. When, under
certain circumstances, it returns to consciousness, the representation
is called an "imagining [*Einbildung*]", and, as we
saw in our discussion of representational reproduction, when this
reproduced imagining connects with a series of fused (temporal)
representations, it may become a memory (SW VI: 121).


When, then, do concepts arise? They are not generated as individual
representations at a particular point in time, nor do we have them in
addition to sensations and imaginings. Rather,



> 
> 
> we ascribe concepts to ourselves insofar as we abstract from the
> entrance of our representations into consciousness, and instead
> reflect upon the fact that they exist there, and now in fact allow
> their 
> *repraesentatum*[61]
>  (the concept in the logical sense) to appear
> [in consciousness]. (SW VI: 121) 
> 
> 


So, if the psychological concept is to have as
its *repraesentatum* just the content of the logical
concept (its *repraesentandum*) and nothing more, then the
psychological concept would have to shed all its peculiar and
contingent traits, all of the complexions and fusions that have
inevitably accrued to it in its own generation and reproduction (SW
VI: 121). How is this possible? First, through a process of isolation
into a "crude" or "confused" concept (SW VI:
125); second, through the crude concept's analysis by means of
judgments; and third, through the classification of these judgments
(cf. Stout 1888b: 477; Weiss (1928) overlooks the first step).


Isolation occurs as many representational series are progressively
curtailed, in accordance with the laws of reproduction. Thus, if
there we take two similar sensations, *a* and *b*,
Herbart argues that as *b* is occurring, *a* reproduces
itself as an imagining, together with all its fusions and
complications.[62]
 If now a third similar sensation*,
c*, appears, then *a* and *b*, together with their
connections (and connections of connections) reproduce themselves,
but "now there is already an inhibition, as the connections of
the one and the other will differ" (SW VI: 123). Imagine now
that new, similar sensations flow in by the hundreds or thousands:
"it is evident that then diverse associations of all the
preceding [sensations] will be as good as extinguished in their
reproduction", letting only a tiny amount of each enter
consciousness (SW VI: 123). Nevertheless, all these small amounts add
up to a considerable total vivacity (*Totalkraft*), and this
fused representation is tantamount to a concept. In other words, as
similar elements of representational sequences fuse, the opposing
links of these series cancel each other out, leaving only the fused
total force shining forth surrounded by a "dim margin of
competing alternatives" (Stout 1888b: 478). Having seen one and
the same man in various positions, moods, clothes and places, then,
should we see him again, the *total*-representation that now
appears is the concept of this 
man.[63]
 According to Herbart, crude general
concepts of objects and events arise analogously to these incipient
individual ones (SW VI: 124-5).


Having shown how incipient concepts arise as the strong, common
nodes of reproduced series of similar representations, he proceeds to
show how, given such nodular representations, they can be definitely
discriminated into subject and predicate, viz. a judgment (Stout
1888b: 478). He observes that the assimilation of a new sensation to
earlier, similar representations can be regarded as (analogous to) a
judgment of a crude psychological, if not of a logical sort:




> the sensation provides the subject; the fusion is
> ... the copula; the earlier representation now fusing with [the
> presently occurring] sensation takes the position of the
> predicate. (SW VI: 126; cf. Stout 1888b: 479)
> 
> 
> 


 Although in this case, the subject and predicate
fuse so quickly and imperceptibly as to be indistinguishable, yet it
provides the template of the *conscious* separation of subject
and predicate, and hence of logical judgments proper. To wit: if and
when the fusion is somehow hampered or delayed, then its beginning,
middle, and end are able to "have their say" (SW VI:
126). Specifically, at first the newly arrived representation (i.e.,
the sensation) of the subject subsists alone in consciousness. As it
starts to sink, the representation of the predicate rises, exerting
an influence--partly inhibiting, partly promoting--on the
representational sequences extending out from the subject as they
strive to evolve. "The copula appears in the middle as the
expression of that change in disposition which takes place in the
fusion" of the subject and predicate (SW VI:
126).[64]


### 3.8 Apperception


#### 3.8.1 Background


Herbart is perhaps most famous for his theory of apperception and
its application to the problems of the ego and self-consciousness
(Boring 1950: 256-7; Stout 1888b: 498). He considers these
notions and their metaphysical elaboration as faculties or powers to
be nonsense, giving rise to paradoxes of self-consciousness; for
example, "a faculty of self-observation [introspection]"
raises the specter of an infinite regress of
"self"-observing powers (SW VI: 140). This is not to deny
that ego, self-consciousness, or self-perception answer to genuine
psychological phenomena. Rather, it is to set a task for psychology,
namely how to account for these psychological facts solely in terms of
representations and without recourse to faculties, since




> in the soul there are only representations; and
> out of these everything must be composed that is to appear in
> consciousness. (SW VI: 141)
> 
> 
> 


 Because Herbart's theory of apperception is
ultimately about the formation (*Bildung*) or structuring of
the ego, it also provides the cornerstone of his theory of education
(*Bildung*) (Hayward 1907: 15; Boring 1950: 257; Weiss 1928:
98).


As we have seen, representations never appear singly, but
continuously interact, complicating and fusing with or inhibiting
each other. They form sequences and series, which, in turn, get
interwoven with each other, forming stable groupings called
representational masses. Simply put, "apperception" is
Herbart's term for the assimilation of one representation or
representational mass into another. In this section I will explain
not only the mechanism of this process, but also why Herbart calls it
"apperception".[65]


#### 3.8.2 Mechanics of apperception


We earlier dealt with the fusion and complication of
representations, i.e., with the laws governing the formation of
representational series and masses. We are therefore already familiar
with the laws of the assimilative process called
"apperception", but only from the "outside",
observing the representational masses objectively. To understand the
assimilative process as "apperception" proper, we must
now recall that representations are not (merely) represent*ed*
"objects" of consciousness (*repraesentata*),
but (also)--as perturbations of the
soul--represent*ing* "subjects" of
consciousness (*repraesentantia*). In other words,
representations, as *bewusst* or
conscious,[66]
 must be (also) conceived as
"observing", of "being-aware"
(*beobachtend*). Always keeping this peculiar characteristic
of Herbartian representations in mind, let us consider his
interpretation of the phenomenon that has been (in his view)
mistakenly called "inner sense" or a "faculty of
self-observation [*Selbst-Beobachtung*, i.e.,
introspection]". He writes:




> One representation (or representation-mass) is
> observed; *another* representation (or representation-mass) is
> the observer. (SW VI: 141; emphasis added)
> 
> 


In order to support this claim, Herbart considers two cases: (a)
the assimilation of a sense-representation (a "sensum"),
called "outer apperception"; and (b) the assimilation of a
reproduced (i.e., recollected) representation from below
the *limen*, called "inner apperception" (Stout
1888b: 448). The latter is treated as analogous to the former (Stout
1889: 448).


##### 3.8.2.1 Outer apperception


A new sense perception or perceptual series, \(W, w, \mathfrak{w},
\omega\) ("\(W\)" for *Wahrnehmung*, sense
perception), always appears in an arena of consciousness already
occupied by some older representation or representational group, \(R,
r, \mathfrak{r}, \rho\) (SW VI: 143). At first, the "unarrested
intensity" of \(W, w, \ldots\) gives it as it were the drop on
the pre-existing representations, initially forcing them down against
the threshold (Stout 1888b: 484; SW VI: 143). At the same time, in
accordance with the psycho-mechanical laws of reproduction, elements
of the new series (e.g., \(w, \mathfrak{w}\)) reawaken the
subliminal *similars* amongst the older representations (e.g.,
\(r,\mathfrak{r}\)), and fuse with these, while simultaneously
inhibiting the *dissimilars* (e.g., \(R, \rho\)). But the
similars (\(r, \mathfrak{r}\)), being themselves more strongly bound to
the dissimilars (\(R, \rho\)) (as members of the same mass), gradually
draw up the latter, and so the whole mass \((R, r, \mathfrak{r}, \rho)\)
returns more strongly to inhibit \(W, w, \ldots\) (cf. esp. Stout
1888b: 484). As Stout points out, the returning pre-formation \((R, r,
\ldots)\) would seem likely to suppress \(W, w, \ldots\) except for
their "points of affinity":




> So far as they are homogeneous they fuse. The
> appercipient group retains in consciousness what is kindred to itself,
> and at the same time represses what is antagonistic. (Stout 1888b:
> 485)
> 
> 
> 


 Hence




> the sense-given group \([W, w, \ldots]\) becomes
> [after considerable modification] incorporated with the pre-existing
> system of presentations \([R, r, \ldots]\). (Stout 1888b:
> 485)
> 
> 


##### 3.8.2.2 Inner apperception


The process of outer apperception provides the model for inner
apperception (SW VI: 141). Simply replace the *sensa* \(W,
w,\ldots\) with a relatively weak representational series \(m, n, o,
\boldsymbol{p}, q, \ldots\) already present in (as opposed to newly
entering) the soul. If now there is in consciousness at the same time
a second "stable and powerful mass", \(P, \mathrm{P},
\boldsymbol{p}, \pi, \ldots\), the two series will complicate with or
"fold into" each other, generating some new complex (such
as \(Pm\) or \(Pn\)) that has elements from each series (Stout 1888b:
485). Now from each member of the new complex, two chains of
reproduction will evolve, e.g., in the case of \(Pm\), one from \(P\),
and another from \(m\). Each of these two chains strives to unfold
itself according to its own law. But because both series contain the
common member \(\boldsymbol{p}\), the evolving chains must fuse at
this node and so reinforce each other. As in the case of outer
apperception, the *m*-series is initially more vivacious and
depresses the *P*-series. As they interact, the greater
strength and coherence of the *P*-series reacts,
"[re-]form[ing] the [weaker *m*-series] in its own
image": the stronger mass preserves the similar elements in the
weaker by fusing with it, while driving it back at other, dissimilar
points (SW VI: 144). From the point at which the two chains are fused
at \(\boldsymbol{p}\), their respective reproductions cannot continue,
as they would have separately. Instead, they now become interwoven
into a new representational mass with "a new total-force"
(SW VI: 141).


In both inner and outer apperception, we find a stronger and more
stable structure into which a relatively unsettled and hence weaker
element is integrated. They are drawn together at nodes of
similarity, while dissimilarity blocks a complete fusion. As a result
of this contest of forces, the weaker element gets stuck or
"fixed" by the stronger. Now recall that both stronger
and weaker elements on this account are *representings*;
therefore the stronger one will be the observ-*ing*
("awar-ing") consciousness, while the weaker one, while
not *un*-conscious (for it is stuck *above*
the *limen*), is the observ-*ed*. In the above example,
the *m*-series will be "observed" "like an
object" by the *P*-series (SW VI:
144).[67] It
is just this unbalanced relation between representations (or
representational structures and elements) that constitutes the
phenomenon of self-perception, i.e., apperception.


#### 3.8.3 Apperception and perception


Herbart's account of apperception is closely linked to the
phenomenon of attention, for, as Stout puts it, "to be in
consciousness is not the same thing as to be an [explicit] object of
consciousness":




> [t]here is always a dim margin of
> [re]presentations, which, though not distinctly attended to, are none
> the less components of the total conscious state. (Stout 1888b: 485)
> 
> 
> 


 Consider the following situation: one is
engrossed in an activity like reading or a game, and so fails to
notice a background noise, like a refrigerator's hum. Only when
the hum "suddenly" stops do we realize that it had been
"in our consciousness" all along, yet without being an
"object of consciousness". Hence, if to perceive is to
attend, then sense perception depends on an apperceiving mass (Stout
1888b: 486). It is only when the dimmed representation begins to fuse
with the vivacious grouping at the center of awareness that the
former




> acquire[s] that peculiar distinctness, which we
> express by saying that we notice it, observe it, or attend to it, or
> that it is an object of notice, observation or attention. (Stout
> 1888b: 485)
> 
> 
> 


 Thus, in one respect, sensation always precedes
apperception, namely insofar as all representations and their
groupings originate in sensory disturbances (SW VI: 143). Yet
genuine *perception*, even of *sensa*, depends in turn
on apperception, for only apperception allows us to *attend
to* the sensed "as" or "in terms of" the
apperceiving mass to which it is being assimilated (Stout 1888b: 485,
f., SS29). As we saw in Section 3.7.2, this is just to
say that we need a representational mass called a
"concept" in order to recognize a new representation as
an instance of it, and thus in the full sense to perceive it at
all.


#### 3.8.4 Apperception, self-control, and education


Apperception is closely connected to morality, as we will see in
more detail in the section on Herbart's ethics. It is
interesting to note, however, that even in his discussion of inner
perception (or as we might call it, "self-awareness"), his
examples all have a normative dimension. Thus, as in the case of an
unattended *external* humming noise, which we suddenly realize
has been going on in the margin of consciousness, so too we most
easily recognize *inner* perception when it lapses, e.g., when
one lets slip a secret, or inappropriately laughs or yawns (SW VI:
145). One *ought* to have noticed and resisted the incipient
impulses towards these actions (SW VI: 145). In
short, *self-control* is a case of inner perception. Hence, in
the case of "weak or uneducated people, children, and esp. of
animals", one does not "expect them to mark their inner
conditions" (SW VI: 145).


On Herbart's theory, such cases of failing to arrest or
"fix" a representational evolution may be explained by the
absence of representational masses sufficiently articulated and
strengthened, not just into "concepts", but into clear
judgments formed out of these concepts, which are called
"maxims" (SW VI: 146). It is the *educated* person
who "should know better", who is expected to have maxims
that arise to ward off foolish, inappropriate, or unethical impulses.
These "maxim"-masses are called "inner
perceptions" (self-consciousness or self-control) just when they
successfully "outstrip, fix, and govern
[*beherrschen*]" rough and precipitate excitations (SW
VI: 146).


The German word for "education" is
"*Bildung*", literally: "formation".
Now, apperception depends on the action of dominant representational
masses, and self-control and self-awareness are functions of
apperception. Thus the educator has a keen interest in forming or
shaping the incipient concept- and maxim-masses in the young. Unless
raw masses are strengthened and clarified, they will remain
"mere heaps [of representations] lacking inner formation and
order [*Ausbildung und Anordnung*], as in the case of rough
persons" (SW VI: 147). The more reticulated representational
chains become, the more defined, stable, and effective are the
resulting concept-masses. These in turn allow for the most acute
perception, as a




> skilled musician ... will pick out of a
> large choir of voices the one which is at fault ... [or the]
> physician perceives in an instant symptoms which have escaped the long
> and anxious scrutiny
> 
> 
> 


 of the inexpert (Stout 1888b: 486). Similarly,
the development of moral concepts will produce the morally perceptive
person, as we will discuss in Section 5.


#### 3.8.5 Apperception and ego-consciousness


Apperception or "self-consciousness" seems naturally to
involve the notion of the ego or "I": for what could
self-consciousness be other than a self or ego that has somehow turned
its thought back upon itself, so as to be simultaneously subject and
object of awareness? (SW VI: 169) Now Herbart believes that his
account of apperception will reveal the substantial "I" to
be but an illusion generated by the interplay among differential
representational masses (SW VI: 141). Nevertheless, although there is
no such *thing* as the "ego", yet this does not
mean that there is no *phenomenon* answering to the word,
"I". We constantly make use of the first-person singular
pronoun, which somehow expresses a first-person awareness,
an *ego-consciousness*, and this psychological state is clearly
of central importance. Herbart tries to explain the ego (correctly
conceived) in naturalistic terms, viz. as the evolution of
representational masses from childhood to adulthood.


He analyzes the genesis of self-consciousness as the evolution
of apperception. From a complex of bodily sensations, desires, and
aversions, the child becomes aware of representations
in *other* beings, which it conceives as pictures carried
around in their bodies. As that conception joins with observed
intentional activities in animals and people--i.e., actions they
carry out for their own satisfaction--the "itself"
arises, though in the third person. Only when such recursive phenomena
are apperceived within my own body does the representation
of *my* self arise (SW VI: 177). This bodily self, then,
appears as the "gathering place" not just of my
representations, but also as the "*origin of all
movements* connected physiologically with bodily feelings",
the pole of all attraction and repulsion.


##### 3.8.5.1 The growth of ego-consciousness


This nexus persists through time, and constantly receiving
additions, forming and reforming itself. Hence, *Bildung*, in
the most literal sense, is the constant accumulation
of *Bilder* (pictures) around this node (SW VI: 177). As the
human being begins to reflect upon its "self", it becomes
aware of its overriding determination as a represent*ing*,
know*ing*, cogniz*ing* entity; and the further
its *Bildung* advances, the more this conviction grows (SW VI:
178; 180). Hence, "I", the being that exists in this way,
become aware of myself as not a thing, but an act-*ing*.


Especially important for the *Ausbildung* or development of
self-consciousness is the reminiscence of the past. For in this way
one comes to see a difference between that center of *past*
(psychic) conditions and current ones; hence all psychic conditions
are recognized as *accidental*: the individual itself cannot be
reduced to any one of them, and hence appears, in apperception, to
stand forth as *distinct* from them (SW VI: 179). Thus, we come
increasingly to see our selves as distinct from our external
environment, and from the here and now, and a (representational)
complex emerges "of which all the component parts may be
negated, so that none of them seems essential to it"--and
this is the ego (SW VI: 180).


Although the ego comes into focus through reflection on its own
past, yet it is always in the present, projecting itself into the
future. This leads to the conception of the ego as a
"drive" (SW VI: 182). But a drive *to* sense,
experience, or act always implies a goal. Hence "the ego appears
most clearly in its outer activity" (SW VI: 182):
it *represents* its action to itself, and assumes a cognitive
distance from its actions. "It knows what it is about to do, and
it also knows what it did" (SW VI: 182). In this way, the ego
progressively abstracts itself from its activity, and eventually
appears to itself as a "mere knowing that now has no
object" (SW VI: 182). Further, by being with others in public,
we come to notice an inner private sphere; for while other people and
things may appear opaque, "the ego is always present to
itself" (SW VI: 183). Thus the educated (*gebildet*)
person comes to ascribe




> a soul to himself, indeed a *character*,
> [which he respects] as higher than the body. The inner perception is
> [now] seen as the source of knowledge of the true self. (SW VI:
> 186)
> 
> 


##### 3.8.5.2 Dispelling the illusion of the ego


Herbart continues:



> 
> 
> But now comes philosophical reflection, which denies true
> self-knowledge to inner perception. It does not care about
> the *temporal being*, the *individual*, but wants to
> know about its [*sc. the individual's*] enduring and
> fixed foundation. It now discovers itself gradually, viz. that
> perception utterly lacks the actual soul-essence, the substance of the
> soul; and that such a substance has to be *attached to it in
> thought*.... Nevertheless, the ego remains the genuine, ever
> selfsame identity of the representing with the represented [thing].
> This ego appears as a given, as the most secure and indisputable fact
> of consciousness. ... A peculiar kind of cognition is invented
> for this: a *pure, intellectual power*. But if one
> asks *what this [thing] is*, which intellectual intuition
> intuits, there appears the absurd concept of an ego severed from the individual. (SW VI: 186; cf. Beiser 2014:
> 133)
> 
> 


Thus, the ego reaches the complete illusion of itself as a
perduring substance.


##### 3.8.5.3 The method of relations, again


Herbart corrects this metaphysical illusion of the ego-soul through
his method of relations.




> As with all concepts that lack an essential
> component [yet] to which they *stand in relation*,
> without *containing* it or immediately indicating it: so here,
> too, in the case of the ego, the illusion lies in this, that one
> imagines this concept to be thinkable [even] after separating out
> everything particular and individual. (SW VI: 187)
> 
> 
> 


 In other words, abstracted from its
"contents", the ego does not exist: it




> 
> *is a point, that is and can be represented only insofar as innumerable [representational] sequences point back to it, viz. as their common presupposition*
> 
> 
> 


 or anchor (SW VI: 168). It is merely a notional
point of reference, a common node of all representational series (SW
VI: 168).


This analysis brings into focus the relation of soul to ego. Recall
the metaphysical axiom, that the soul is a simple
whole--originally *not* representing--whose
self-preservations against various disturbances result in
"represent*ing*s". The soul in itself, in its
simple and thus unknowable quality as *not representing* soul,
cannot become either subject or object of consciousness. But the
soul *with respect to* all of its representations is the true
subject: the one, undivided, yet most variously active subject of all
consciousness. Now as we consider psychic activity to
be *generally* a represent*ing* over against a
represent*ed*, there arises the peculiar case where the
represented entity is identical with itself (SW VI: 190-1). The
soul "unfold[s] the represented world; and, in the middle of the
world, the *represented*, own self" (SW VI: 191).


This *represented* self, then, is the ego, the apperceptive
system of the soul's perturbations. As we will see in the final
section on Herbart's pedagogy, education just amounts to the
best development of this ego, i.e., its virtuous character. This
education (*Ausbildung*) culminates in science, by which
Herbart means the soul's self-knowledge in terms of *his
psychology*. For this "*science speaks of the soul*
as the ground of the represented world and of its own
Self". Thus, while Herbart's language of a culminating,
reflective science of the self may remind one of an Idealistic
absolute science, he takes great pains to distance his notion of
science from *speculative* or *intuitionistic
metaphysics*. Yes, in "science", the knower is the
soul, and "knowing and known are one and the same, viz. the soul
in the system of its self-preservations"; however, he adds,
"I know of myself, not with innate, but with a
permanently *acquired* knowledge" (SW VI: 191).


## 4. Aesthetics & ethics


### 4.1 Aesthetics


Whereas metaphysics and psychology deal with the real, aesthetics
concerns just those concepts "that solely indicate a value or
disvalue" (Weiss 1928: 108; cf. SW XI: 24; 26). Aesthetics is
thus a *science of values*. In particular, aesthetics inquires
into the beautiful, which is not a cognitive concept, i.e., no
predicate of beings insofar as they exist. Rather the beautiful
"denotes the way ... an object is apprehended by an
observer..." (SW IV: 500; cf. Weiss 1928: 109).


Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, and is
an *experience* of the subject. At the same time, the beautiful
is not something merely subjective like a feeling of pleasantness, for
it arises and subsists in the observer only *with respect to* an
object (cf. SW IV: 602). What the aesthetic conception articulates
about the object does not "depend on any individuality, but
rather solely on the quality of the represented [object]" (SW
VI: 273). Suppose I declare: "Rembrandt's *Aristotle
with a Bust of Homer* is beautiful". On the one hand, the
beauty of the painting is something that lies not *in* the
painting, but in my, the beholder's experience of it. But the
predicate, "is beautiful", does not attach to my
experience, but to its object, the painting. I do not claim that my
experience is beautiful, but that the painting is. Nor am I merely
saying that it *seems* beautiful *to me*; rather, the
claim pertains to the painting itself, viz. that it *is*
beautiful.


#### 4.1.1 Aesthetic judgment


For Herbart, an aesthetic judgment is marked by the *immediacy
and involuntariness* with which it is made. Such judgments are, in
other words, independent of the personal preference of the subject,
and are, in a sense, forced upon her. They are warranted by a
peculiar, originary kind of evidence springing from the observation of
the object (SW X: 318). They are clear, without having been learned or
proved, and stand forth as absolute and non-negotiable claims (SW IV:
105; 47). This absolute and self-evident character lets aesthetic
judgments function as the principles of a *science* of
aesthetics.




> They let aesthetic feeling be brought into the
> form of a judgment, let the beautiful be treated scientifically, and
> let aesthetics become a science of principles. (Weiss 1928:
> 109)
> 
> 


Such immediate, involuntary judgments arise upon the
"complete [or perfect] representation of the object [of the
judgment]": "the beautiful is the effect of complete [or
perfect] representation" (Weiss 1928: 110). By "complete
representation", Herbart means the kind that arises of itself in
the utterly non-partisan observer, moved by the object alone. A
beautiful object will necessarily find favor, an ugly object distaste,
for it appears clearly to one free "of the disturbing pressures
and demands of the will" (SW III: 526). In short, aesthetic
judgment depends on a contemplative state of ataraxic indifference or
will-less-ness (*Willenlosigkeit*) (cf. SW II: 335; Beiser
2014: 126).


#### 4.1.2 Aesthetic validity and "conscience"


The aesthetic judgment is synthetic, connecting the theoretical
cognition of the object with its evaluation. The former is the subject
of the judgment, the latter its predicate (SW IX: 80; 329, n.\*).
Herbart does not, of course, regard such judgments as functions of
a *power* of judgment. Rather, judgments of taste are the
involuntary effect of any perfect representation, "provided the
latter does not immediately disappear in the flux" of psychic
change (SW II: 45). The aesthetic judgment seems to possess an
absolute validity. This might seem strange, given the subjectivity of
taste, but as we saw above, the neutral judge's judgment makes a
claim about the object (cf. Kant, *Critique of Judgment*,
SSSS2, 4). But there is a further problem: if each aesthetic
judgment pertains to a single and particular representation, how can
it have universal validity? (Cf. esp. Beiser 2014: 129) On
Herbart's view, it gains the "appearance of an enduring,
indeed eternal authority", thanks to a kind of "subjective
necessity" (SW II: 350). That is, although each new perfected
representation inevitably draws after it a new judgment, yet it is
also true that the same representation will always provoke the same
judgment (SW II: 350). In other words, under identical subjective and
objective conditions, the same aesthetic judgment *must* recur,
and this produces the appearance of eternal validity.


Now, as one repeatedly passes aesthetic judgments and becomes aware
of their peculiar validity, they come to exert "a slow pressure
upon the [individual], who calls it his
'conscience'" (SW I: 265). Only he who repeatedly
generates aesthetic judgments in fact acquires such a
"conscience". We may take Herbart to be speaking here of a
sense of artistic propriety characteristic of the connoisseur or the
trained musician. In musical practice, for example, one makes myriad
judgments regarding the tempo, articulation, or dynamics. Over time,
these fuse into stable appercipient masses--the musical
"conscience"--and music conflicting with them seems
"wrong" and *must* be criticized. Such a Herbartian
conscience is no kind of faculty of taste or judgment, but a facility
acquired in accordance with the laws of concept formation.


#### 4.1.3 The beautiful


Much as Aristotle rejects Plato's unitary conception of the
Good, Herbart emphasizes the particularity of the
beautiful. Aesthetics cannot and ought not try to abstract from
individual judgments of taste in order to discover "the"
common essence of the beautiful (or the ugly). This is because Herbart
holds the original aesthetic judgments, *in their
absoluteness*, to be the principles of
aesthetics.

 
> 
> 
> [Their] evidence, ... absoluteness, and ... perfect
> representation of the object as the indispensable preconditions of the
> possibility [of such judgments] exclude the possibility of any highest
> aesthetic propositions [*Grundsatze*] ... to which a
> number of aesthetic judgments ... should be subordinated. (SW IV:
> 47)


Although it *is* universally true of the aesthetic that the
object involuntarily pleases or repels, yet the objects of aesthetic
judgment themselves cannot be reduced to a formula. If one abstracts
from their particularity, one is left with "no object containing
something that an aesthetic judgment could determine".


What is it in the object that elicits approval or
disapproval--what lets an object be judged
"beautiful"? Beauty is a function of relations
(*Verhaltnisse*) or form, as in the "relations in
the outline of a statue, in the characters of a drama, of tones in
musical chords" (SW IX: 329; cf. SW IX: 313, SW II: 344). For
this reason, Herbart holds that only an object exhibiting internal
structure or a relation to other objects can have aesthetic
interest. An object without relations is "aesthetically
insignificant" (Weiss 1928: 115). In music, no single tone can
be considered, in itself, beautiful or ugly, although single tones
constitute the intervals and chords that, as relations, elicit
aesthetic judgment (cf. SW II: 344). Hence the axiom of all
aesthetics is this:




> All simple aesthetic elements must themselves be
> relations, viz., relations whose *relata*, considered in
> themselves, have no aesthetic value. (SW III: 331)
> 
> 
> 


 We now see better what it is that aesthetic
judgments express approval or disapproval of, viz. relations that can
be grasped in a single representing act (Weiss 1928: 116).


#### 4.1.4 The task of aesthetics as a discipline


Thus aesthetics starts with the simplest formal determinations
underlying approbation or disapproval (Weiss 1928: 117). Its
disciplinary task is



> 
> 
> neither to define, nor demonstrate, nor deduce, nor even to
> distinguish amongst types of art or argue about a given work of art.
> Rather, it should reveal the *simple relations* that generate
> approbation or deprecation in case of a perfect representing. It
> should make us *conscious* ... of the specific approbation
> and of the specific disapproval that is originally proper to any
> particular relationship whatsoever. (SW II: 345)
> 
> 


The concepts we use to think these elemental relations Herbart
calls "paradigms or Ideas" (Weiss 1928: 118). The
exhaustive presentation of these elementary relations grounds
aesthetics as a science. Once they are in hand, it can survey all
possible aesthetic relations, as in figured bass. Indeed, Herbart
considers figured bass to be the only existing model of an aesthetic
science, for it "demands and receives an absolute judgment for
its simple intervals, chords, and progressions, without proving or
explaining anything" (SW II: 345).


Should these universal aesthetic Ideas be organized in a general
aesthetics, they could then be applied in different material spheres,
e.g., of color, tone, figure, but also, crucially, of *relations of
the will*. Such specific ramifications of the paradigms are called
"techniques" (*Kunstlehren*) or "practical
sciences" (SW IV: 47). The discipline dealing with the
paradigmatic elements of approbation or disapprobation of relations of
will is *practical philosophy*, i.e., ethics, to which we now
turn.


### 4.2 Ethics


All evaluative judgments are aesthetic; they evaluate the
represented relations in their object. *Practical philosophy*
or ethics evaluates relations of the will. Therefore, ethical
judgments are a kind of aesthetic judgment (cf. SW VII: 10; SW X: 309;
Beiser 2014: 108; 125, ff.). Because such judgments often conflict,
the task of practical philosophy is not to pass judgment itself, but
to cause us to judge correctly. Hence, all practical philosophy can
and should do is to "correctly present the object, [in such a
way] as to be perfectly grasped", that object being relations of
the will (SW II: 334); thus, as figured bass presents a theory of
beautiful tonal relations, practical philosophy seeks the "whole
set of *relations* by which the will becomes the object of
praise or blame" (SW IX: 329: n.\*). Like Kant, Herbart holds
that the determining grounds of moral action must be found in *a
priori* norms, and rejects eudemonism or any "material
motives" as grounds for practical laws (cf. Beiser 2014: 94,
125, ff.). For Herbart as for Kant, morally evaluative judgments are
to be made solely with an eye to the "form of the will",
which ethics determines.


#### 4.2.1 The object of practical judgment


Practical judgment judges the "will", a species of
desire marked by determinate cognition and fixing of its object, and
by conviction that the object is attainable. While I might desire to
leap tall buildings in a bound, I cannot will it (SW II: 99). Now the
value of the will's object cannot determine its evaluation,
since Herbart like Kant excludes all material grounds as determinative
of moral action. Hence the will itself is the object of
evaluation--but how? Because every instance of willing is
nonetheless bound to its object, *individual* acts of willing
cannot be the object of moral evaluation. Further, an act of willing
isolated from its object also cannot be the object of moral
evaluation, since




> otherwise, the difference between a good and evil
> will would disappear: willing and willing-well would be one and the
> same. (Weiss 1928: 122)
> 
> 


Herbart's solution to the dilemma is to say that practical
philosophy considers the will not in itself, but only insofar as it
enters into relation with another
will.[68] It
is these various possible relations *among* *wills*
that constitute the possible forms of the will, and that are judged
fine or shameful by practical judgment (SW X: 348). In this way, the
aesthetic elements and paradigmatic Ideas of general aesthetics
govern practical philosophy, as well.


#### 4.2.2 The paradigms or Ideas of practical philosophy


Herbart identifies five such elementary relations of will that
demand aesthetic approval, viz., the Ideas of inner freedom;
perfection; benevolence; right; fairness/justice (SW II: 356). The
first Idea is the Idea *of* Ideas, i.e., the general decision
or determination of the will always "to act in accordance with
the patterns *as* patterns, in accordance with taste in
general" (SW II: 357). Unlike the other Ideas, inner freedom is
a paradigm that is unconditionally pleasing, and which therefore does
not need to be commanded. On the other hand, the will can easily come
into conflict with the other four paradigms, and such conflict
is *displeasing*. The insight of practical judgment into the
paradigmatic pleasing-ness of the Ideas therefore makes itself felt as
a demand to neutralize that conflict:




> [t]he ethical commandment springs solely out of
> judgments of displeasure, and appears when, and for as long as, a
> willing conflicts with the practical Idea.
> 
> 


#### 4.2.3 The virtuous human being


Herbart's Doctrine of Ideas naturally leads to the notion of
virtue or human excellence, for "the ideal, complete realization
of inner freedom [just] is the *virtue* of the
individual" (Weiss 1928: 145; cf. SW II: 409, ff.,
esp. 411-12). Here we advance from aesthetic pleasure in the
paradigms of the will to their actual realization: "Virtue does
not forever stay home but strides forth into an alien world" (SW
II: 414). Thus the individual who sees and approves of the practical
Ideas also feels compelled to enact them in a coherent way of
life. This unity is the *Ideal of virtue*, according to which
"no part of [practical] insight may lack the corresponding
will[,] and there should be no lack of connection among its
parts" (SW II: 412). The virtuous life must exclude vice and
lack of virtue, and react to the situations that at every turn demand
virtue's activity (SW II: 412-13).


Instead of an indefinitely ramifying list of duties to achieve this
ideal, Herbart proposes that the sense of art or *Kunstsinn*
can help us gain an overview of virtue (SW II: 415). That is,
life's circumstances appear as a matter to be formed, and the
virtuous person is able to judge the *finest* way in which a
situation should be handled (SW II: 416). But because the artistic
sense is in constant conflict with external forces and internal
feelings, it must be continually rekindled (SW II: 417). Hence, the
Ideal of virtue can be at best asymptotically approached and it is
this approach that Herbart calls "morality". Since an
approach implies a temporal sequence, human life may be understood as
a chain of ethical actions and passions (SW II: 417, f.).


Herbart analyzes this chain into three main parts. First, there is
virtue as "the picture of a beautiful reality", belonging
to imagination, dream, and fantasy, in which the need for intervening
in reality is lacking: the Ideas are simply assumed as universally
effective (SW II: 417-18). Second, the need to act arises, and
the striving will encounters obstacles even within the sphere of
thought. Finally, we really act, and try to realize the beautiful
world of thought (SW II: 418). While social reality hampers the
achievement of virtue, the individual, conscious of his inner freedom,
must try to find all possible avenues towards moral fulfillment (Weiss
1928: 156). It is in preparing the individual for a life of moral
action that education is required.


## 5. Pedagogy


Herbart writes:



> The sole and entire task of education
> [*Erziehung*] is encompassed by the concept,
> "morality" [*Moralitat*]. (SW I: 259)
> 
> 
> 


 If virtue is the realization of human freedom,
then the goal of Herbartian education is to make the
child *capable* of living virtuously, viz., by forming the
pupil's character. For reasons that will become clearer below,
Herbart identifies moral character with a "many-sided"
character. Many-sidedness is a regulative ideal guiding one's
striving towards full individuality: the teacher helps the pupil
develop all his[69]
 unique talents and interests as far and as
coherently as possible. That is, the teacher helps the pupil
systematically connect his interests around the central principle
that is *his
 self*.[70]


### 5.1 Many-sidedness and "interest"


Instruction aiming at many-sidedness has two main phases,
"engrossment" (*Vertiefung*) and
"reflection" (*Besinnung*), each of which in turn
has a "resting" and a "progressive" moment:
resting engrossment is "clarity"; progressive engrossment
is "association"; resting reflection is
"system"; progressive reflection is "method"
(SW II: 38, ff.; cf. esp. Glockner 1892; Beiser 2014:
106-7). It is important to note that these phases of learning
recapitulate the process of apperception. That is, clarity occurs
when a representation or representational series comes into full
consciousness, where it hovers in the full light of attention. One is
engrossed *in* it, which is simply to say, one is not aware
of anything else. But of course the child's mind rarely stays
occupied with a single representation for long; its imagination
(*Phantasie*) rapidly leads it, usually by association, to
other, similar representations (SW II: 40). This spontaneity of
absorption in environing objects is the source of a *natural*
many-sidedness, and thus the seed of the fully formed personality. While the phases of engrossment are natural to all human
beings, it is obvious that in themselves they have no direction or
organizing 
 principle.[71]


The teacher does not simply give the principle to the
child. Rather, his instruction aims to bring the child by stages to
recognize the principle on and as its own, by *reflecting* on
its immediate experience. The child's maturity determines the
scope of reflection, but she will always fall short of the full
self-reflection characteristic of the adult. Since many-sidedness
depends on reflection for its full solidity, the child can also only
ever approximate adult versatility and virtue (PS I: 149). For
Herbart, the teacher promotes reflection by promoting what he calls
the child's "interest" (*Interesse*). Now,
the child's natural engrossment in its activities must be
respected as symbols of its individuality. At the same time,
engrossment is a kind of seclusion, whereas interest is an opening up
of the person in and to the 
world.[72]
 Step by step, the teacher must lead the
pupil to become an interested, active learner, who desires not to
possess knowledge, but to hover "*between* merely
spectating [on the one hand] and grasping [on the other]"
(cf. SW II: 42).


The first phase of interest is *noticing* objects:




> the noticed object not only stands forth for a
> certain duration from the flow of psychic activity, but also aids the
> reproduction of suppressed representations. (Weiss 1928: 194; cf. SW
> II: 42; 53)
> 
> 
> 


 As other representations rise, new, imagined
representations are anticipated (as we saw frequently happens in
apperception). Should an imagined representation be perfectly
represented, it will naturally provoke an aesthetic judgment of
approval. This leads to a "demand" for the imagined
object, i.e., an overpowering sense for its realization; and this
demand finally expresses itself in action in the world (SW II:
42-3). It is thus clear that by "cultivating
interest", Herbart does not mean simply getting the pupil
"to be interested in something". Rather, as these four
phases of interest map onto the phases of engrossment and reflection,
interest is an expression of many-sidedness, namely its activity in
the world. For "demand" here is not simply a strong
desire, but an apperceptive "mental anticipation" of the
object's realization. As such it is necessary for the pupil to
advance to a more perfect state of systematic and aesthetic
completeness.[73]
 Thus by promoting interest and
many-sidedness, education primes the pupil for action (PS:
181).[74]


Thus far, "interest" has remained quite abstract: it
is, *in nuce*, a questing openness towards certain objects,
leading to action. Now the kind of action Herbart has in mind is not
an instinctive reaction, but is integrated into a systematic plan. For
the totality of "the interesting" is prescribed by
*culture*,[75]
and its divisions into the cultural and natural sciences (SW II: 44,
f.). Education must accordingly pursue in parallel the formation of
the pupil's imagination and understanding (PS I: 59; cf. 181).
Because all knowledge is rooted in experience, organized through
speculation, and grasped as a whole aesthetically, *Bildung*
must develop these three dimensions equally (SW II: 53). Equally
important, however, is the pupil's constant, active
participation in his surroundings, in order to develop an empathic
understanding of her fellow human beings (PS I: 156; SW II: 51,
ff.). In all these cases, a teacher is needed to modify experience and
human interaction in order to maximize the yield of knowledge. For
experience merely accumulates random representations;
*instruction* helps the person to analyze, organize and combine
these "formless fragments" (Weiss 1928:
 200).[76]
 By the same token,
mere everyday contact with others does not produce empathy.


Hence, the teacher must not be narrowly committed to his scientific
expertise, but demonstrate interest in the world and human beings (SW
II: 50). While native taste and thoughtfulness cannot be taught, the
teacher must be alert to these and fan such sparks in order
to *complete* what nature has prepared (SW II: 46). Further, he
must respect the "personal unity" of the child:
Herbart's rule:




> to give equal right to engrossment and reflection
> in every in area of inquiry, no matter how small; i.e., to tend in
> order to: *clarity* of the particular; *association* of
> the many*; coordination* of what has been associated, as well
> as practice in progressing *through* this organization.
> 
> 
> 


 In all this, the elements of
instruction--"facts, information, ideas,
knowledge"--are not negligible, but rather




> vitally important, for ... they become built
> up into "apperception masses", which, in the process of
> taking in *more* facts, information, ideas, knowledge, give
> rise to "apperceptive interest", this latter being itself
> of first importance in the character-forming process. (Hayward 1907:
> 70)
> 
> 


### 5.2 Character


We have so far been discussing the ideal of the many-sidedness; the
many-sided person and the person of character is one and the same,
though regarded from different perspectives (PS I: 199; SW II: 89; cf.
SW IV, esp. "*Padagogisches Gutachten usw.*":
519, ff). Herbart is particularly concerned with *moral
character*, and its virtues of stability, hardness
(*Harte*), and invulnerability. He wants to show that a
many-sided interest serves moral character, and how pedagogy devoted
to the former contributes to moral education (Weiss 1928: 211). For
Herbart, (moral) character, like all spiritual (*geistig*)
aspects of human life, is not a natural given, but a gradual
acquisition. Psychologically speaking, it is the will that in the
young child is stamped through repeated interaction with the outer
world, settling into "uniform and stable [ways] in which [it
pursues] certain goals while excluding others"; thus, the will
becomes *character* (Weiss 1928: 211; cf. SW II: 90).


Character has distinct objective and subjective sides (SW II:
90-1). Objectively, character depends on the child's
susceptibility to formation and its individuality. Although the child
is not born with "a" character (which term is reserved for
settled traits), yet he is born with certain dispositions, including a
"disposition to stability of character" (SW II: 91). This
manifests itself in what Herbart calls the will's
"memory", i.e., the fact that under like stimuli, the will
will will like actions (SW II: 91-2). In this respect, there
seems to be something predictable, hence "objective" in
human character. Although this stability is but relative, and one
spontaneously finds himself choosing or forsaking, avoiding this or
pursuing that, yet



> 
> 
> where there is a memory of the will, the choice [in a given situation]
> will be made of itself. The preponderance of wishes will involuntarily
> organize itself [and manifests itself in] choice. (SW II: 92; SW
> V: 203)
> 
> 


In different individuals, their inclinations and naturally
differing intensity will cause the stability of simple willing to
vary: "every individuality is and remains a chameleon" (SW
II: 93). Nonetheless, they originate in a "unified source and
point of reference" that constitutes the "essential core
of individuality" (Weiss 1928: 213). Hence while choice only
occurs in accordance with an individual, particular standard, it
remains the precondition for the consolidation of character itself. It
is out of simple willing and the psychological character to which it
gradually gives rise that the "matter" is gathered, as it
were, with which one has to work, and from which he ultimately
"must secure the demands that he makes of himself":
"Being is what gets a person started; demands follow
after" (PS I: 198).


On the other hand, these demands typify the higher, subjective
aspect of character, "higher" because marked by reflective
intelligence, an apperceptive distinction between willing and the
objects of will, between I and not-I. Thus the ego now identifies the
natural or simple will as its "own" will: the natural
stability of the simple will becomes a willed or conscious stability.
In addition, the reflective effort to grasp oneself leads to
a *demand* regarding the objects towards
which *conscious* willing is directed. That is, the will must
adapt itself to changes in the object: it perceives a *demand*
that one must "precisely orient oneself in view of
circumstances", and to do so differently as circumstances
shift. Hence the stability of character must be tempered with
flexibility (*Motivitat*); in the "precision of this
flexibility lies the art of *characterful* living" (PS I:
201; 351, f.; cf. esp. 198). Individual willing settles into
character through the struggle that arises in the individual's
attempt to defend the ego and the will's stability. Because the
stability of character is only relative, and shifts over the years,
its true *principle* can only consist in being oriented towards
a realm of purposes (*Zwecke*) or ultimate values
(*Werte*) (Weiss 1928: 216).


### 5.3 Ethical aspect of character



> 
> To bring it about that the pupil finds himself, *as*
> choosing the good, *as* rejecting the evil: this--or
> nothing--is character-formation! (SW I: 261)
> 
> 
> 


 Character has an ineluctably ethical aspect: we
want (our) character not to be of just any sort, but good. Like
Aristotle, Herbart holds that we always stand in some relation to virtue
and vice. While not by nature good or bad, our actions and character
necessarily fall somewhere on the spectrum of virtue and vice. Virtue
is thus not something attached from the outside to an ethically
neutral self; rather, it is a natural quality of man that will develop
well or poorly. So Herbart, like Aristotle and Plato, does not think
that education should aim to inculcate moral truths or commandments,
so much as lead the "moral[ly constituted human being]
to *recognize* his own value and dignity, and [then] to elevate
it" (PS I: 199). Here again we see the transition from the
objective facticity of one's constitution as a being
with *some* moral charge, to the subjective endorsement of it,
of accepting responsibility for the excellence of one's moral
constitution as the source of one's value and dignity. It is a
movement of "awakening self-reflection", in which the
form-law governing our involuntary (aesthetic) approval or disapproval
of human actions or situations is elevated to norm-law, i.e., is
accepted as binding on me, and to which I have a responsibility that I
accept (cf. Weiss 1928: 216).


As with character generally, moral character displays a kind of
natural memory, a "perduring in simple willing [,] the natural
beginning of unity and consistency of moral willing", already
evident in the small child's incipient moral feeling (PS I: 199;
cf. SW II: 120-1). All this points to the fact that in the
objective or natural constitution of character, we already find
"conceptions of the good and right". This natural moral
memory shows itself in the fact that




> moral judgment as the pure natural appearance of
> the essence of humanity is not "obscure" and
> "mutable", but [always] "decisive", that it
> always appears as the same willing whenever the same stimulus is
> renewed and nothing hinders or neutralizes a pure conception of the
> object, [i.e.,] whenever the mind is in a state of pure
> contemplation. (Weiss 1928: 217; cf. esp. PS I: 131)
> 
> 


This consistent, disinterested willing just is the phenomenon of
conscience, which thus reveals itself as a form of willing, namely the
natural desire for the good as neutrally judged. As will, conscience,
too, has an object, namely the moral ideal, i.e., its own relation to
other wills. As we saw in our discussion of Herbart's ethics,




> [t]he judged [thing, sc. judged by
> "conscience"] is also [the] will, [only in this case] the
> will in its relation to other wills (PS I: 202)
> 
> 
> 


 Conscience as "natural" or
"objective" will thus articulates the (moral) demands
that the human being makes of himself, the pursuit of which
determines his moral character, now properly so
called. Self-reflection at first notices objective as well as
subjective willing, but when the object has been completely
represented, viz., the individual will as a member
or *relatum* of a will-relation, then this complete
representation of the object also provokes approval or disapproval as an immediate
"aesthetic" effect . In other
words, the individual goes beyond merely registering how he feels or
finds himself, to positively approving or censuring that same inner
state.


We see here a special case of apperception as an interaction among
conflicting representational masses, in which one representational
group is not only "noticed" but evaluated by another, held
to what (from its perspective) is perceived as an alien claim. Now, on
the one hand, since the soul is postulated as a unity, the difference
between how one *is*, and how one judges that one *ought to
be*, indicates an inner conflict. On the other hand, the moral
personality, as a manifestation of the integral soul, must or ought
also to be integrated. In short, the conflict must be resolved so that
the judged will is brought into agreement with the aesthetic
(apperceiving, evaluating) will, and so "merge into a single
person": "[T]his person represents the ideal of an
ethically self-determining will" (PS I: 202; cf. 131). But since
this ideal is rarely if ever achieved, we constantly feel compelled to
"interrupt our activity and alter our mental disposition from
within". Thus, for the sake of the unity of the moral
personality, the human takes as a categorical imperative what
previously was but an aesthetic judgment.


Now it is a presupposition of pedagogy that all human beings are
capable of living up to the ideal of an integrated, unified,
autonomous personality (PS I: 202; 93). But how does the will become
decisive? In other words, how do we gain a moral character
that *acts* for the good? We may approach this problem by
asking how those natures that successfully form themselves do so, and
through what stages they must pass in "gaining a
character" (Weiss 1928: 221-2). This can help the
pedagogue develop a plan for optimizing what is otherwise a haphazard
process. The resolute character depends, first, upon a
moral *eros*, and striving towards a representation. The will
generates the act out of a desire (PS I: 360). But active deeds in
turn depend on natural disposition--including bodily health; the
will's memory; and the spirit's mobility or
"flexibility" (PS I: 365). The less motile the spirit,
the firmer the will (PS I: 365;
198).[77] Now
natural disposition develops very slowly and only fully matures in
adults when they enter the world. Hence character-education has
little latitude, since children rarely are placed in situations of
true responsibility. At just the moment when the young adult takes up
responsibilities, his receptivity for education is exhausted (SW II:
88, f.; PS I: 364).


Herbart draws two conclusions: First, that character-formation must
focus on the young person's "sphere of desire
[*Begehrungskreis*]", as the one aspect of character
apparently susceptible to "a lasting influence" (Weiss
1928: 224). And since desires aim at goals, and goals are
representations, the educator can set to work upon the "sphere
of representations", and thus shape the ultimate targets for the
mature individual's future desire (SW II: 118, f.). Second,
Herbart concludes that character-development gains stability and
security by being accelerated and integrated into the actual period
and process of education. The teacher must keep in mind that character
"is solely formed through action out of *one's own
will*" (PS I: 251). Therefore, Herbart's pedagogy
emphasizes the importance of offering the child's will ample
opportunity to express itself: "Boys and youths must
be *dared* to become men" ("*Massregeln der
Kinderregierung*"; Herbart 1887b: 17). It is the work itself
that fixes the bounds of thought and action, not the teacher; within
those bounds the student is to be given maximal freedom (PS I:
308). By frequently exercising the freedom of the will in purposeful
activity, the pedagogue is able to "harden" the
pupil's will (PS I: 368-9).


We began by asking how moral character is to be formed. This
question finally calls for consideration of the "influences
that specially affect the moral features of character" (Weiss
1928: 225). Chief among these is aesthetic judgment, which must
therefore be constantly exercised, so as to become the power
mastering desires. The pedagogue must therefore carefully attend to
the contents of the child's or sphere of thoughts. First, the
pupil should gain a clear and particularized familiarity with a
"whole series of moral elements and their most common causes in
life", e.g., the main relationships of daily life, family,
country, and their various conflicts and contradictions. Further,
since character ultimately depends on the integration of the person,
all domains of human interest must be brought into relation with the
ideal: thus, for Herbart as for
Montaigne,[78]
 history in the broadest sense provides an
indispensable space in which to exercise the young person's
aesthetic and practical judgment. Since passive presentation of
historical, literary, or philosophical *pictures* must be
avoided, the instructor must strive to bring peoples and persons of
the past to the fore *as living people*: practice in
recognizing many human types sharpens the pupil's
"ethical eye", securing the child from dangerous
surprises in life (SW II: 50). Again, because historical figures
appear at a distance, the pupil can contemplate them in a
disinterested fashion, letting "pure taste" rule action
in his imagination. Such training is the best one can do in preparing
the person for adulthood.