## 1. A Divided Soul



Gustav Theodor Fechner (1801-1887) is one of the most enigmatic
thinkers of nineteenth century German philosophy. His intellectual
soul was fractured, torn into two deeply divided halves, each of which
claimed dominance over the other. His entire career was an attempt to
unite these warring sides. But, despite his best efforts, he never
succeeded. 



What were these halves? On the one hand, Fechner had deep positivist
proclivities, which made him advocate the strictest standards of
observation and measurement in science, and which led him to adopt
early versions of phenomenalism and verificationism in philosophy. On
the other hand, Fechner also had a desperate longing for metaphysics,
for a complete vision of the entire cosmos, which his piecemeal
scientific work could never satisfy. The problem facing him was
daunting: How to be both a cautious and sober scientist and a daring
and imaginative metaphysician?



These two sides of Fechner represent conflicting currents of his age.
Growing up in the early nineteenth century, Fechner was exposed to the
rise of romanticism and the growth of the empirical sciences. He was
an early student of romantic *Naturphilosophie*, the writings
of Schelling, Oken and Steffans, which were Faustian attempts to grasp
nature as a whole. But he was also a student of physics and physiology
at the University of Leipzig, where his mentors, Alfred Volkmann and
Ernst Weber, were at the forefront of experimental work on the
psychology of perception. Fechner learned early that the speculative
methods of *Naturphilosophie* were insufficient to yield
careful and substantive results in science; despite that, he never
lost the longing for unity, the desire for a complete vision of
things, which is characteristic of *Naturphilosophie*.



Each side of Fechner's personality bore its characteristic
fruit. The product of his positivist side was his early scientific
work on the psychology of perception, and his massive two volume work
*Elemente der Psychophysik* (1860), which attempts to describe
in precise laws the relationship between the psychic and physical.
Because it stressed the dependence of the mental on its physical
expression and embodiment, Fechner's philosophy of mind has been
described as a form of materialism. The product of his metaphysical
side is his so-called "panpsychism", the the doctrine that
the cosmos is psychic, that it is an embodiment of the psychic (for a
more precise definition of this term,
 see below, section 4).
 Fechner put forward this doctrine in his two most famous works:
*Nanna oder uber das Seelenleben der Pflanzen* (1848a) and
*Zend-Avesta oder uber die Dinge des Himmels und des
Jenseits* (1851). 



Fechner's effort to harmonize the two sides of his nature came
with his *inductive metaphysics*, i.e., the attempt to reach
general metaphysical conclusions on the basis of the methods and
results of the empirical sciences. Like other philosophers of his
generation, viz., Lotze, Trendelenburg and Hartmann, Fechner rejected
the synthetic methods of the German idealists (Fichte, Schelling,
Hegel), who attempted to derive their conclusions by *a priori*
methods. In his view, metaphysics should follow, not lead the
empirical sciences, which are autonomous and stand on their own
foundation independent of philosophy. The crucial question was whether
general metaphysical principles really could be based on the empirical
sciences, whose results are always piecemeal and tentative. 



Any attempt to understand Fechner must come to terms with both sides
of his personality. We must do justice to his panpsychism as well as
his positivism. We can dismiss the panpsychism on positivist grounds,
as many have done; but if we do that, we beg questions against
Fechner. He insisted that his conclusions are based on well-grounded
inferences from facts of experience, and he pointed out (rightly) that
resistance to his views was often based on little more than prejudice.
Far from a reckless metaphysician, Fechner himself applied positivist
standards to his own metaphysics. We can dispute whether he met those
standards; but we can can do so only after a careful examination of
his argument. Even where his conclusions extend beyond the empirical
evidence for them, they at least raise interesting questions and
possibilities. Fechner's panpsychism raises the important
question of the limits of consciousness: Is consciousness limited to
human beings and animals? Or should we extend it to plants and indeed
all organic beings?



Many studies of Fechner are one-sided, emphasizing one side of him at
the expense of the other. Older scholarship tended to focus on his
metaphysical side, especially his panpsychism (see, for example,
Adolph 1923; Bruchmann 1887; Pastor 1901a,b; Wille 1905; and Wentscher
1924: 18-72). In reaction to such work, a more recent book by
Michael Heidelberger finds "the heart of Fechner's
philosophy" in his non-metaphysical side, and it stresses his
"non-reductive materialism" as the main achievement of his
philosophy (2004: 73-74). While Heidelberger's work is an
important corrective to older scholarship, it still makes the same
mistake: it too is one-sided. It is unconvincing because it
drastically underplays Fechner's panpsychism, which it simply
dismisses as "one of his most notorious ideas" (2004: 3).
Though odd by contemporary standards, panpsychism was Fechner's
general worldview, and its exposition and defense would preoccupy him
for much of his life. It is also deeply misleading to describe the
heart of Fechner's philosophy as any form of materialism, even
if it is a "non-reductive" kind. Fechner not only had a
deep aversion to materialism, but he also insisted that belief in the
existence of matter is only the reification of an abstraction. There
are indeed passages, which Heidelberger duly cites, where Fechner
describes his philosophy as "very materialist"; but in
those very same passages he also describes his philosophy as
"very
 idealist".[1]




The chief purpose of this introductory article is to provide a brief
survey of Fechner's most important *philosophical*
writings. No attempt is made to consider his writings on physics and
psychology, which is the task for another article. The most important
philosophical writings are, in my opinion, *Nanna*,
*Zend-Avesta* and *Ueber die physikalische und
philosophische
 Atomlehre*.[2]
 These writings represent the two sides of Fechner's philosophy,
the metaphysical and positivist. There is also no attempt to provide
an account of Fechner's *Elemente der
Psychophysik*--even though some contemporaries regarded it as
his most important work--since its results are essentially
empirical and have, on Fechner's own reading (see Fechner 1860:
I, 6), little philosophical relevance. Because Fechner's
philosophy is incomprehensible without knowing about his life, this
article also includes two biographical sections, one on his early life
and another on his mental breakdown. The latter section, though
seemingly superfluous, is crucial because it is the source and
motivation for Fechner's mature philosophy. The article
concludes with a short analysis of Fechner's theory of mind,
which is probably that aspect of his philosophy of most contemporary
interest. Finally,
 a supplement: "Dr. Mises' Merry Pranks"
 contains a survey of Fechner's early pseudonymous writings,
which should shed light on his philosophical development.


## 2. Early Years



Gustav Theodor Fechner was born on April 19, 1801, in the then Saxon
village of Grosssarchen. His father, Samuel Traugott Fischer
(1765-1806), and indeed grandfather, were pastors in the
village; and his mother, Dorothea Fechner (1744-1806), was also
from a pastoral family. This religious background had a profound
effect on Fechner, who would attempt to rationalize it in his
philosophy. 



Gustav was the second of five children. He had an older brother,
Eduard Clemens (1799-1861), who was an artist, and who moved to
Paris in 1825; he had three younger sisters, Emilie, Clementine, and
Mathilde. Though only a village pastor, Samuel Fechner was a man of
the Enlightenment: he was the first in his village to inoculate his
children; he put a lightning rod on the village church; and he was the
first to give sermons without wearing a wig. By all accounts he was a
cherished father; but he died when Gustav was only five. His death
left the family destitute. 



Fechner showed great promise from an early age. He could speak Latin
even as a boy. He learned quickly and studied avidly. When he was only
fifteen, the Rektor of his Gymnasium said to him: "Fechner, you
are still very young; you must leave because there is nothing more
that we can teach you" (Kuntze 1892: 5). But, simply because he
was too young for the university, he had to stay an extra year in the
Gymnasium. When he was only sixteen, he went to the University of
Leipzig. Since he could receive little help from his family, he had to
rely on stipends and to give tutorials. Later Fechner would support
himself through translations and literary work. This reliance on hack
literary work, as we shall soon see, would prove fateful.



Fechner was, in the truest sense of the word, "*ein
Leipziger*". Though he spent his childhood in
Grosssarchen and Dresden, he lived almost his entire life in
Leipzig, from 1817 to 1887. He travelled outside it only for
vacations, and only once for a short sojourn, a three month stay in
Paris in 1827. Leipzig was not intellectually restricting, however,
since, in the first half of the nineteenth century, it was in many
respects the cultural center of Germany. It was famous for its musical
life, for its book trade, and for its literary salons. It was called
"the Paris of Germany". Fechner enjoyed this cultural life
and was fully integrated into it.



Fechner first studied medicine, taking his Baccalaureate and doctoral
exams in 1822. But he quickly became dissatisfied with the subject.
Although he had the right to practice medicine, he confessed that he
did not have the least idea how to bleed an artery, to deliver
children, or to apply a bandage (Kuntze 1892: 38). Medicine also did
not satisfy him as an intellectual discipline because its theories
were based more on authority and tradition rather than observation and
experiment. Because of his intellectual interests, Fechner soon
gravitated toward physics, which applied higher standards and more
rigorous methods than medicine. He gave up most of his lectures on
medicine and attended only the lectures of the physiologist Ernst
Heinrich Weber (1795-1878) and the mathematician Karl Mollweide
(1774-1825). For a while Fechner became Mollweide's
assistant, but he confessed that he had little talent for mathematics
(Kuntze 1892: 37). Weber's and Mollweide's work on
perception would prove to be a profound influence on Fechner's
later psychophysics. 



A crucial event in Fechner's intellectual development came in
1820 with his reading of Lorenz Oken's *Lehrbuch zur
Naturphilosophie* (1809). Oken was an admirer of Schelling's
*Naturphilosophie*, and in his *Lehrbuch* he set out to
provide a systematic exposition of its basic ideas and to reconcile
its many opponents (in his "Vorrede" [1809:
 v-vi]).[3]
 Fechner was excited by Oken's breathtaking speculations about
the whole of nature. From his study of medicine he had become
accustomed to see nature as a mechanism; but Oken gave him an exciting
new way of conceiving nature as an organic whole. Fechner later said
of his first reading of Oken's book: "A new light seemed
to me to illuminate the whole world and the sciences of the world; I
was dazzled by it" (Kuntze 1892: 39).



For the next four years, Fechner devoted himself to
*Naturphilosophie*. Although he said that he little understood
Oken's book, of which he read only the first chapter, he went on
to read other *Naturphilosophen*, especially Schelling and
Steffens. He was indeed so involved in *Naturphilosophie* that
in 1823 he wrote his PhD dissertation on it, *Praemissae ad
theoriam organismi generalem* (a summary is provided by Marilyn
Marshall 1974b), which was a general theory of organisms. In 1824, in
a collection of essays, *Stapelia mixta*, he made his own
proposals for the method of *Naturphilosophie*
 (1824).[4]




In the midst of his fascination with *Naturphilosophie*,
Fechner started writing satires under the pseudonym "Dr.
Mises". His first two publications were spoofs of the
pretensions and practices of the medicine of his day: *Beweis,
dass der Mond aus Jodine bestehe* (1821) and *Panegyrikus
der jezigen Medicin und Naturgeschichte* (1822). These satires
also contain a critique of the methods of *Naturphilosophie*,
which Dr. Mises chastened for its hasty analogies and its lack of
careful experimentation. Despite his awareness of its flaws, Fechner
did not lose his enthusiasm for *Naturphilosophie*. He believed
that its problems could be overcome by finding and employing the
proper methodology. Hence the proposals in *Stapelia mixta*,
which were designed to put *Naturphilosophie* on a sounder
methodological footing.



However, in 1824, the very year in which *Stapelia mixta*
appeared, Fechner seemed to have lost further confidence in
*Naturphilosophie*. In that year he had begun to translate the
French physicists Louis Jacques Thenard (1777-1857) and
Jena Baptiste Biot (1774-1862), whose work deeply impressed him
(Thenard 1813-16 [trans. 1825-28] and Biot 1817
[trans. 1828-29]). By following careful methods of
experimentation and observation, the French physicists seemed to
produce definite results. Fechner asked himself if Oken and Schelling
could ever have produced the precise laws of optics found in
Biot's work? (Kuntze 1892: 39-40). 



Despite such disillusionment, *Naturphilosophie* would remain a
profound influence on Fechner. There are two fundamental ideals of
*Naturphilosophie* which would have an enduring effect on him:
first, its ideal of a unified worldview; and, second, its organic
concept of nature. However much Fechner rejected the methods of
*Naturphilosophie*, he was still excited by these ideals, which
he would never renounce. Already by 1824, then, there is a basic
tension in Fechner's intellectual life: the hankering for
speculative *Naturphilosophie* and the demand for exact
science. 



In the Winter Semester 1823-24, at the tender age of twenty-two,
Fechner began his academic career by lecturing on physiology for the
faculty of medicine. After the death of Ludwig Gilbert
(1769-1824), the Leipzig professor of physics, in 1824, Fechner
served as his temporary substitute. Because he was still so young, the
position could not be made permanent. It was only in 1834 that Fechner
finally became professor of physics in Leipzig. 



During the 1820s, Fechner began his first experimental work, taking as
his subject the new and exciting field of electricity. He conducted
experiments to test, and to perfect the measurements for, Ohm's
 law,[5]
 which had been discovered in 1826, but which was at first very
controversial. Fechner's exact observations and experiments were
highly praised and contributed to the general acceptance of
Ohm's law. The experiments were collected under the title
*Massbestimmungen uber die galvanische Kette*
(Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1831). 



In 1827 Fechner took a long journey through Bavaria, Salzburg, Tirol,
and Switzerland, which finally ended with his three month stay in
Paris. There he finally met Biot and Thenard as well as
Andre Marie Ampere (1775-1836); their exacting
experimental work served as a model for him. Fechner's
translations of Biot and Thenard played an important role in
disseminating French mathematical science in Germany. 



From 1838 to 1840 Fechner undertook experiments on the psychology of
sense perception. In doing so he became part of a Leipzig tradition:
in the 1830s Alfred Volkmann (1801-1877), and Ernst Heinrich
Weber (1795-1878) and Eduard Friedrich Weber (1806-1871)
had conducted experiments on the psychology and physiology of sense
perception. Fechner continued in that tradition by conducting
experiments on color perception. He wanted to investigate the
connection between the objective phenomenon of light and its
subjective perception. He discovered that the appearance of many color
phenomena is due more to retinal fatigue rather than any property of
light itself. Fechner's results proved fruitful and were later
taken up by
 Helmholtz.[6]



Although Fechner was making a name for himself, he was still nearly
destitute. His lecturing posts were either poorly paid or not paid at
all, so he somehow had to make up for the lack of income. To keep the
wolf from the door, he engaged in various translation and writing
projects. The most questionable of these projects was his editing
Breitkopf and Hartel's *Hauslexikon*, a household
guide (1834). This work consisted in eight volumes, each containing
eight to nine hundred pages; a third of the articles had to be written
by Fechner himself. So our philosopher found himself writing on the
best way to set the table and how to cut meat. Fechner's motive
for undertaking this work was totally financial: previous editions of
the *Hauslexikon* had been very profitable. But, as fortune
would have it, this edition proved to be a bust. Fechner's
mighty labors were for very little gain. It was working on such
projects that so exhausted him, leading to his breakdown in 1840.


## 3. The Breakdown



The most dramatic and fateful event in Fechner's life was his
mental breakdown, which lasted for nearly four years, beginning in
December 1839 and ending in October 1843. The breakdown was extremely
severe, leading to near death and loss of sanity. His mental and
physical collapse was the talk of Leipzig. No one expected Fechner to
come out of it. But, remarkably, he did. That he survived it at all,
and then continued in a productive career, is astonishing. Fechner
himself regarded it as "a miracle". 



Fechner's breakdown was a watershed in his intellectual
development. It forced him to reevaluate the orientation of his work.
From now on, he would write on only what was important to him. No more
hackwork. More importantly, during his recovery Fechner had a mystical
experience which it became his mission to spell out in philosophical
prose. Some of Fechner's iconic works are the direct result of
this experience. 



The story of the breakdown was told by Fechner himself in a memoir,
entitled 'Krankheitsgeschichte', written in 1845
(reproduced in Kuntze 1892: 106-126). What follows are the
highlights of his story. 



In the Autumn of 1839 the strain of overwork was beginning to take its
toll on Fechner. There were acute physical symptoms of mental stress.
He was suffering from headaches, insomnia and lethargy. But there were
also symptoms of neurosis. His thought was obsessive and compulsive.
He complained that his thinking was leading nowhere, that he would
constantly come back to the same point, that in doing so he was
exhausting himself. It was impossible for him to stop thinking; he
could not relax or distract himself. Rather than he controlling his
thinking, it was as if his thinking were controlling him. 



The worst physical symptom of Fechner's growing illness was near
blindness. He had strained his eyes doing his experimental work. He
had to look through colored glasses at the sun, so that images of
bright objects would remain in his eyes. He also had to stare for long
periods at very fine measurement scales, which taxed his vision. His
sight received "its final blow" in 1840. His eyes became
so sensitive to light that he could not open them. He had to live in a
completely darkened room and to wear a blindfold. Because of the
deterioration of his sight, he had to abandon reading and writing; and
because he could not read or write, he could not work. His great enemy
became boredom. All could have been bearable to him if he could only
sleep; but his insomnia was relentless. 



Though Fechner could not read himself, someone could still read to
him. For a while, this was his only source of stimulation. His wife
would often read to him; so would a friend, who would visit him daily.
That friend was no less than the young Hermann Lotze, who was just
then beginning his writing career. But, eventually, even his visits
had to stop. Fechner could not bear the strain of listening. There
could be only complete silence in that darkened room.



Anything that involved mental effort was now unbearable to Fechner.
Because even conversation was impossible for him, he avoided all
contact with others, even his wife. And so Fechner became completely
isolated, from the world and others. He was utterly alone in that
black and silent room. 



Desperate, Fechner finally made the fateful decision to listen to his
doctors. They would attempt an experimental remedy from traditional
Chinese medicine. They would apply to his back moxa--a down of
dried leaves from the plant *Artemisia moxa*. The immediate
effect was to create swellings, which left scars on his back; but the
long-term effect was much worse: digestion became impossible. Now
Fechner could not eat or drink; he quickly became emaciated. He was on
the brink of starvation. 



Fechner was rescued from starvation by a woman who was acquainted with
his family. She had read of his illness, and dreamed of a remedy for
it. She sent him pieces of dried ham, cleaned of all fat. To his
surprise, Fechner enjoyed eating it, and he gradually recovered his
strength through it. 



Some of the symptoms Fechner describes in the depths of his illness
sound like schizophrenia. He complained that his thoughts were beyond
his control. They would arise from very incidental reasons and he
could not stop them. As he wrote of his state of mind: "My inner
being divided itself into two parts: in my self and in my
thoughts." (114)



Fechner later wrote that only two things prevented him from sinking
into complete oblivion: the care of his wife and his religious faith.
He was especially strengthened and comforted by the thought that there
was compensation in another life for the sorrows endured in this life.
These eschatological themes will later play a central role in his
theory of religion. 



The worst month of his illness, Fechner later wrote, was August 1843.
It seemed he could not sink any further into depression, and that
there could be neither rescue nor redemption from all his suffering.
But, slowly and gradually, a process of recovery began in October. He
found that he could now speak without having unpleasant sensations,
and that the more he spoke, the more he liked speaking. With
self-confidence and prudence, his powers gradually strengthened. For a
few seconds, he could open his eyes without feeling any pain; he later
found that he could do this for longer moments. Fechner told himself
that he was not merely passive, that he had the power to exercise his
eyes, and that he could make them stronger. Eventually, he wrote, they
felt "a real hunger for light". 



Thus Fechner cured himself. It was as if it were all a question of
will power. He found a source of strength within himself, a power to
go out and meet the world. He now believed that he had allowed himself
to sink into nothingness; if he was the source of his
self-annihilation, he reasoned, he could also be the source of his
self-affirmation. And so by Christmas of 1843, full of hope and
confidence, Fechner walked out of his dark night, a new man. He would
be a productive writer for the next forty four years.


## 4. The Soul of Plants



Fechner has gone down in history as "the father of
panpsychism". But that phrase is problematic. We should drop the
claim to paternity since the doctrine is very old and has had a wealth
of followers, both in ancient and modern times. The more important
question is whether it is accurate to describe Fechner's
philosophy as "panpsychism". The label is correct if it
means the following: the doctrine that all living beings are psychic,
i.e., have the power of
 consciousness.[7]




We should distinguish panpsychism from organicism. The panpsychist
holds that all living beings are psychic where the psyche involves the
power of consciousness; the organicists holds that living beings are
not necessarily psychic, that their living powers might not be
conscious but only be subconscious drives. Organicism is ambiguous: it
can mean 


1. the doctrine that everything in the universe is alive; or
2. the doctrine that the universe is organic in structure, i.e.,
forms a whole where the whole precedes the parts and makes them
possible.



It is possible to hold (a) and (b); but it is also possible to hold
(b) and not (a) if one thinks that there are inorganic parts within
the organic whole. Organicists are not necessarily panpsychists
because they might hold that there are living creatures who are not
conscious; panpsychists are organicists at least in sense (b) but not
necessarily in sense (a). Fechner was an organicist in sense (b) but
not (a) because he held that there is such a thing as inorganic nature
(Fechner 1879: 37). 



Fechner's first exposition of panpsychism is his *Nanna oder
uber das Seelenleben der Pflanzen*, which he first published
in 1848. *Nanna* took the first step toward panpsychism by
arguing that plants are conscious beings, having a life of feeling and
volition. In his *Zend-Avesta*, which first appeared in 1851,
Fechner took his panpsychism a giant step further by contending that
planets, and indeed the cosmos as a whole, are also psychic or mental.
Fechner defended and elaborated his panpsychism in two works of the
early 1860s: *Ueber die Seelenfrage* (1861) and *Die Drei
Motive and Grunde des Glaubens* (1863). His final exposition
of his doctrine appears in his *Die Tagesansicht gegenuber der
Nachtansicht* (1879).



Fechner's panpsychism originated from a mystical experience
which came at the end of his mental
 breakdown.[8]
 The day he began to see again, 5 October 1843, he walked into the
garden of his house to look at the plants and flowers. Now the whole
world appeared alive to him; it seemed for the first time to reveal
itself to him. The flowers were all illuminated, as if from within.
The light they shed seemed to come from their very souls. 



> 
> 
> The whole garden seemed to me transformed, as if not I but all of
> nature were arisen anew; and I thought, it is only a matter of opening
> my eyes again to allow a nature grown old to become young again.
> (*Nanna*: 65) 
> 
> 
> 



From that day onward, Fechner made it his mission to be true to that
experience, to capture its meaning in philosophical prose. The
ultimate results of his efforts were *Nanna* and
*Zend-Avesta*. 



Though Fechner's panpsychism arose from a mystical experience,
it is not based upon it; that experience was the origin of his view,
not the rationale for it. Fechner insisted in both *Nanna* and
*Zend-Avesta* that his doctrine was based upon the best natural
science. While he did not claim certainty or finality for his
doctrine, he still maintained that it was the most "likely
story" given the latest findings of empirical research. 



Fechner explains the title of his work in his forward (*Nanna*:
xi). He wanted a short and catchy name for his book. He first
considered "Flora" and "Hamadryas"; but then
he found the first too botanical and the second too archaic. Just the
right name came from Uhland's work on Nordic mythology (1836:
147-148). Nanna was the goddess of flowers, the wife of Baldur,
the god of light. 



Fechner writes that it is the purpose of his work to show how plants
are part of a world ensouled by God (*Nanna*: xiii). It then
seems as if panpsychism can be proven simply from the omnipresence of
God. But Fechner explicitly rejects this strategy because it would
make the question of the soul of plants depend on general metaphysical
questions, such as the relationships between God and nature or mind
and body (*Nanna*: 7). Furthermore, even if we could prove the
omnipresence of the divine mind, Fechner adds, it still would not
prove that each individual thing is conscious. It would still be
possible for the divine mind to be omnipresent in nature even though
no individual thing is conscious (*Nanna*: 3). For these
reasons, Fechner will investigate the question of the soul of plants
on its own, apart from any general metaphysics; he asks: What evidence
do we have for the common view that only humans and animals but not
plants have souls? 



All belief in the existence of other minds, Fechner reminds us, is
based on analogy. We assume that other humans have minds because their
speech and actions are like our own; and we infer that animals have
minds because, in crucial respects, their actions are like our own.
But we must be careful with analogy, Fechner warns, because we cannot
demand that other creatures be exactly like ourselves in all respects.
The very nature of analogy means that they are like us in some
respects but unlike us in others. We are permitted to infer, because
analogies do not exactly hold, that other creatures have minds
*similar* to our own; but similarity does not mean identical or
alike in all respects. Their minds could still be, in other respects,
very different from our own. Though we assume that worms have souls,
we recognize that they are very different ones from our own
(*Nanna*: 6). Why cannot we then say that plants too have
souls, though very different ones from us?



Fechner makes it his business to argue that all the reasons for
ascribing souls to animals also hold for plants (*Nanna*: 7).
Plants and animals have very similar structures and functions. They
share a similar pattern of development (birth, maturity, death); both
have similar cellular structures; both require nutrition, both engage
in digestion, excretion, respiration. All that we can infer from the
differences in their organic structure, function and development is
that plants have *different* souls than our own, not that they
have no souls at all (*Nanna*: 9).



The most common reason for denying souls to plants, Fechner notes, is
that they do not have a central nervous system. If one destroys the
nerves of a human or animal, they show no signs of life. It therefore
seems that plants cannot a have a soul because they have no nervous
system. But here Fechner raises an interesting question: Are nerves
the only possible organs to produce sensation? Nature has many means
to the same end, and we should not assume that there is only one way
to produce sensation. If we cut all the strings of a violin, it
produces no sound; but not all instruments are stringed. We can
produce sound from wind instruments. Similarly, nature might have many
means of creating sensations apart from a nervous system
(*Nanna*: 28). The fibers of plants could perform the same
function as nerves.



Another common reason for denying souls to plants is that they are not
capable of locomotion, of changing their position, as humans and
animals are (*Nanna*: 41, 71). But why should motion to
different places be necessary for life?, Fechner asks. Plants move
too, its just that they move vertically rather than horizontally. One
maintains that the movements of plants are not voluntary, like that of
humans and animals, because they are subject to physical necessity.
But Fechner replies that the actions of animals too can be shown to be
physically necessary. The mere necessity of an action--its
explicability according to mechanical causes--does not show that
it cannot be also accompanied by internal or mental events
(*Nanna*: 79). 



A weak point of Fechner's argument is that he never sufficiently
clarifies what he means by the soul or mind. His argument is cast in
the language of having "a soul", which makes it seem as if
he means a special kind of substance. He tells us that by a soul
(*Seele*) he means the same thing as mind (*Geist*); but
this only kicks the can down the road: What are the criteria of a
mind? The crucial consideration for Fechner seems to be sentience,
consciousness or awareness, or at least the possibility of it. Even
the most primitive plants, he argues, have consciousness or feeling;
though it might not be on the level of humans and animals, it is still
at least as lively and intense (*Nanna*: 188). This is
interesting because Fechner seems to exclude the possibility of the
subconscious; he does not allow, as Leibniz famously did, the
existence of subconscious living creatures. In some places, Fechner
seems to hold that having feelings and desires are sufficient for the
presence of a mind; but he also writes that there can be sensation and
desire without consciousness (*Nanna*: 53). In other places, he
makes purposive activity a necessary condition of having a mind. Only
a being with a soul has a purpose, he says (*Nanna*: 152). The
crucial consideration for an organism, he also contends, is that its
organization allows it to effectively achieve its ends
(*Nanna*: 191). But this too becomes troubled because Fechner
concedes that there can be purposive or organic development without
any awareness of it (*Nanna*: 87).



One of the most important differences between Fechner's
panpsychism and Schelling's and Hegel's idealism is that,
for Schelling and Hegel, the ideal does not necessarily imply the
presence of consciousness. What makes a creature living is its
purposive activity, which need not imply that its activity is directed
by consciousness. These differences with the idealist tradition
eventually became public in Fechner's sharp criticism of Eduard
von Hartmann's *Die Philosophie des Unbewussten*, which
put forward a strong case for the presence of subconscious life
throughout nature (see Fechner 1879:
 22).[9]



## 5. The Soul of the Universe



*Zend-Avesta* is Fechner's most personal work, the
statement of his fundamental beliefs. It is nineteenth century
metaphysics in the grand style, on a par with Schopenhauer's
*Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung* and Lotze's
*Mikrokosmus*. It is a much more ambitious work than
*Nanna*. Whereas *Nanna* would deal strictly with the
realm of botany, *Zend-Avesta* would consider the cosmos as a
whole. While *Nanna* would prove only that plants have souls,
*Zend-Avesta* would attempt to show that the entire
*organic* universe has a
 soul.[10]
 Although this panpsychic doctrine was the inspiration for
*Nanna*, Fechner, as we have seen, refused to make it the basis
of his argument. Now, in *Zend-Avesta,* it will be his purpose
to prove this doctrine. 



*Zend-Avesta* is unapologetically religious. Fechner conceives
it as a defense of ancient natural religion. In his preface he writes
that its purpose is to restore an old belief: "that all of
nature is living and divinely ensouled" (*ZA*: vi).
*Zend-Avesta,* which means "living word" in ancient
Persian, was the sacred text of Zoroastrianism. Fechner hopes that his
work will be a new *Zend-Avesta* (*ZA*: vii).



Although it has a religious agenda, *Zend-Avesta* was no
defense of the Christian faith. Fechner's natural religion was
decidedly not Christianity. His denial of a transcendent dimension
beyond nature, his insistence that the mental be embodied in the
physical, and his affirmation of a God of nature, all depart
drastically from Christian dogma. Still, Fechner was sympathetic to
Christianity--the faith of his family and fathers--and
attempted to interpret many of its beliefs in terms of his
 philosophy.[11]
 He conceived his own religion as a synthesis of Christianity and
paganism (Fechner 1879: 71).



Despite his religious agenda, Fechner insists that he intends to base
his faith upon the best science. This work follows a different course
from most *Naturphilosophie,* he writes, because it does not
begin from universal principles and descend to matter of fact; rather,
it begins from an examination of the particulars of experience and
ascends to the universal. "The whole tendency of this
writing", he says in the preface, "is that the universal
rests on the particular rather than the particular on the
universal." (*ZA*: xiii) It will show that the realm of
the soul is much wider than usually thought, and then proceed to
demonstrate that it extends to the universe as a whole. 



There was some equivocation on Fechner's part on the basis for
his natural religion. Although he insisted that it had to be based on
science, he had to admit that it could not be based on "exact
research" (*ZA*: vii, xiv). The very nature of the
subject matter did not permit "empirical confirmation and
mathematical calculation". Furthermore, he vacillates concerning
how it is based on empirical fact. He insists that he will allow only
inferences based on experience; but then he says that his theory is in
order as long as it does not contradict the results of science
(*ZA*: xiv). He then went on to admit that to believe in the
soul of the stars would be always "a matter of faith"
(*Glaubenssache*; *ZA*: 7). 



We should contrast Fechner's attitude toward religion and
science with the materialists of his day (Feuerbach, Vogt,
Buchner, Moleschott). It was a major advantage of his philosophy,
Fechner claimed, that it could reconcile science with religion. The
materialists saw this as no advantage at all; they insisted that
modern science was moving in the direction of materialism, which made
it necessary to reject all the religious dogmas of the past. Fechner
was well aware of the threat of materialism and did his best to
counter it. His constant appeal to science was an attempt to meet the
materialists on their own ground. 



To prove that the universe has a soul, Fechner again follows the
guiding thread of analogy, just as he did in *Nanna*. He begins
by considering the body closest to us: the earth. He finds many
similarities between the earth and our body: both are self-enclosed
purposive wholes; both consist in solid, fluid, gaseous materials in
manifold connections; both go through cycles of changes; both go
through processes of development whereby they become differentiated
and more finely organized (*ZA*: 29-31). Furthermore, the
earth has a circulatory system like that of our body (*ZA*:
73-74). Because of these many similarities, we are justified in
concluding, Fechner argues, that the earth is an individual organism
(*ZA*: 35). Of course, because it is a much greater organism,
there is much in the earth that one does not find in man; but there is
nothing in man that one does not already find in the earth
(*ZA*: 37). The main difference between the human body and the
earth is that the earth is a higher organism than the body; this is
because it is more independent, self-sufficient, massive and powerful
(*ZA*: 31). All the characteristics of the human
organism--unity, multiplicity, organization and development from
within--the earth has to a greater degree (*ZA*:
35-6). 



Having demonstrated that the earth is an organism, Fechner proceeds to
argue that it also has a soul. Because the earth has a body much like
our own, we are justified, on the basis of analogy, to assume that it
has a soul much like our own (*ZA*: 110-111). If we
regard freedom as a necessary characteristic of the soul, we should
also attribute it to the earth, which is an even more self-sufficient
and independent being (*ZA*: 113). All the respects in which
the earth is unlike us are only reasons to attribute to it a higher
soul (*ZA*: 115). To the objection that the earth does not have
a nervous system and other organic functions like ours, Fechner
replies that, though the presence of these functions proves a soul,
their absence does not disprove the soul either but only the lack of
an *animal* or *human* soul (*ZA*: 130). It is
easier to prove that the earth has a soul than plants do, Fechner
claims, for the simple reason that we have souls and are part of the
earth (*ZA*: 120). We are all parts of the earth, Fechner
argues at length, and just for that reason the earth must have also a
soul, because a soul cannot arise from matter but only another soul
(*ZA*: 140-1). 



Fechner conceives the soul of the earth as present within all
individual souls, much like Averroes famous doctrine of the
universal intellect. All the different representations in one mind
presuppose a single general consciousness; but the same is the case
for the different representations in different minds: they too
presuppose a general consciousness (*ZA*: 160-1). What we
perceive or think as an individual mind we perceive or think through
the general mind (*ZA*: 164). This single common consciousness
in all individual consciousness explains, Fechner believes, how mutual
understanding and communication are possible. Although we are
independent and self-sufficient with respect to one another, that is
not with respect to the higher mind. That I know myself and only
myself, and that you know yourself and only yourself, does not prevent
the higher spirit from knowing both of us. What is separation
(*Scheidung*) for us is only a distinction
(*Unterscheidung*) for it. 



The earth is only one planet in the cosmos, and as such only one
organism within an infinite one, one mind within an infinite one. The
universal organism is nothing less than God, who is the tree of life,
from which everything grows and upon which everything depends
(*ZA*: 23). God is not *above* space and time, Fechner
insists, but he is *within* them. He not only *does*
everything in all things, but he *is* everything in all things
(*ZA*: 200). "God is the one and all" (*ZA*:
223), Fechner says, endorsing the *hen kai pan of* the
*Goethezeit*. The external world of appearances is not opposed
to God, but it is simply his external side (*ZA*: 201).
God's spirit does not stand outside the material world but
expresses itself in and through it. Fechner distinguishes between a
narrower and broader concept of God: the narrow concept is God as
spirit alone; the broader concept is spirit *and* its
embodiment in the world (*ZA*: 200-1). In the same way,
he says, we talk about a person as a personality but also as a whole
being involving its body. But it is noteworthy that Fechner says that
God in the narrow sense, i.e., God as a pure spirit, is only an
abstraction (*ZA*: 204). The concept of the world in a broad
sense, in which it includes spiritual and physical existence,
coincides with the concept of God (*ZA*: 204). Fechner admits
that, in this sense, his view is pantheistic, but he insists that it
is not so in the Hegelian sense in which the spirit exists
*only* in its individual manifestations. 


## 6. The Existence of Atoms



In 1855 Fechner published a book much less famous than *Nanna*
and *Zend-Avesta* but one just as important for the exposition
of his philosophy: *Uber die physikalische und philosophische
Atomlehre*. While *Nanna* and *Zend-Avesta* make up
the speculative or metaphysical side of Fechner's philosophy,
the *Atomlehre* represents its positivist side. It is in this
work that Fechner puts forward his phenomenalism and verificationism.
All that exists, and all that we can meaningfully talk about, it now
turns out, is an object of possible experience. It is as if the soul
of the universe were swept away with a positivist broom



The *Atomlehre* was Fechner's contribution to a major
controversy in the mid nineteenth century: the existence of the atom.
Fechner argued that, by the best standards of observation and
experiment then current in physics, the most probable view is that
atoms really do exist; they are not only a convenient fiction or a
fallacious hypostasis. The simplest and most consistent interpretation
of the data of observation and experiment is that there are atoms
behind the laws of experience. 



The question of the existence of the atom had divided philosophy and
natural science against one another. The philosophers held that atoms
are only a fiction or hypostasis, while the physicists claimed that
they are a reality, the best inference from observation and
experiment, even though they are unobservable themselves. This
disagreement among philosophers and scientists reflected their wider
disagreements about the nature of matter and scientific method. They
were opposed on three fronts. First, the philosophers held that matter
is infinitely divisible and continuous, while the scientists
maintained that it is indivisible and discrete. Second, the
philosophers made forces fundamental, analyzing matter into powers of
attraction and repulsion; the scientists, however, made matter the
basis of force, claiming that forces inhere in matter and that they
are only a way of accounting for its law-like regularities. Third, the
philosophers stated that the fundamental questions about nature cannot
be settled by observation and experiment and have to be determined
*a priori*; the physicists insisted that every question of
natural science has to be determined by observation and experiment and
that questions about its very possibility are not the concern of
natural science. The chief philosophers, who were all Germans, were
Schelling, Hegel and Herbart; their philosophy of nature was in the
tradition of Kant's *Metaphysische Anfangsgrunde der
Naturwissenschaften*. The main scientists, who were French, were
one and all experimental physicists, men like Andre
Ampere (1775-1836), Augustin Cauchy (1858-1898) and
Augustin Fresnel (1788-1827).



Atomism had become such a controversial issue in the mid nineteenth
century partly because of the rise of materialism, and partly because
of the traditional reputation of atomism. Materialism had become a
rising force in German philosophy in the early 1850s; and by
1855--the very year Fechner published his work--Karl Vogt,
Heinrich Czolbe, and Ludwig Buchner published their manifestos of
materialism (Vogt 1855; Buchner 1855; Czolbe 1855). The German
materialists were not unqualified champions of atomism. Though Czolbe
had explicitly defended it (1855: 105 and 1875: 95), Buchner was
more cautious, stating only that the atom was still a working
hypothesis (1855 [1904: 39-40]). Nevertheless, the reputation of
atomism as a materialist doctrine had been formed since antiquity.
Atomism, whose chief exposition was Lucretius' *De rerum
naturae,* stood for a completely naturalistic worldview.



As one could surmise from the author of *Nanna* and
*Zend-Avesta,* Fechner was not sympathetic to materialism and
lamented its rising power in German life and letters. It was one of
the most interesting features of his book that it would attempt to
break the traditional association of atomism with materialism. Fechner
argued that atomism does not necessarily support materialism, and that
it is indeed ultimately a better support for the beliefs in the
existence of God and immortality than the opposing view of the
philosophers. Part I of *Atomlehre* lays out the experimental
evidence for *physical* atomism; but Part II states the case
for a *philosophical* atomism which supports a metaphysics
avowing the existence of God and immortality. The battle between
philosophy and physics about the existence of the atom should not be
seen, at least in Fechner's view, as a struggle between faith
and science. 



The most remarkable feature of Fechner's book is that it is a
defense of atomism at all. In *Nanna* and *Zend-Avesta*
Fechner had expounded the organic vision of the universe so
characteristic of romanticism. The support for that organic vision, as
set forth by the *Naturphilosophen* (Schelling, Hegel, and
Herbart), had been the dynamic theory of matter, according to which
matter consists essentially in living force. If matter consists in
force, the *Naturphilosophen* argued, then there is no
fundamental difference in kind between mind and matter, because they
are only different degrees of development and organization of force.
It was just this view of matter, however, that Fechner had rejected in
his *Atomlehre*. He was very explicit that force presupposes
the existence of matter, that trying to analyze matter into these
forces was like trying to analyze sounds into the intervals between
them (*Atom*: 112, 113). But this repudiation of dynamicism
inevitably poses the question: Did Fechner's atomism not
undermine his
 organicism?[12]




The chief reason that Fechner advocates atomism is because he thinks
that it better explains the facts than its rival, dynamicism. Atomism
is not simply a good model of explanation but the correct ontology,
i.e., the right account of what exists in the world. That is to say,
atomism does not work simply on a hypothetical basis: *if*
atoms exist, then we can account for the phenomena; rather, it
postulates that atoms do exist, and that only as such do they explain
phenomena. The atomist knows that the existence of atoms cannot be
confirmed by experience; but he still insists that the only way to
explain what we do know about experience is to assume the existence of
atoms (*Atom*: 25, 30). Here again the natural scientist
follows the guide of analogy. He assumes that the same laws that hold
for the macroscopic world also hold for the microscopic, an assumption
which brings consistency into his general worldview (*Atom*:
33, 35-6, 88). Fechner concedes that many phenomena explicable
according to atomism are also explicable according to dynamicism; but
he insists that there always comes a point where phenomena reveal
themselves that dynamicism cannot explain (*Atom*: 13, 21, 24).
When we examine mass macroscopic phenomena in greater
detail--taking them apart into their microscopic
constituents--we find that the facts we then discover are
explicable according to atomism alone. 



Fechner cites the following experiments and phenomena in favor of
atomism. 


1. The refraction of a ray of light into different colors was often
regarded as a difficulty of the wave theory of light. Why should a
single transparent ray suddenly transform itself into a multitude of
colors? The investigations of Cauchy have shown, however, that
refraction into different colors *follows from*, and is not
only *consistent with*, wave theory if one supposes that there
are discrete particles in the aether (*Atom*:
 18).[13]
2. A heat ray (*Warmestralung*) and heat conduction
(*Warmefortpfanzung*) seem to be very different phenomena.
But Fourier has demonstrated that conduction follows under the same
laws that hold for rays provided that one assumes rays consist in
discrete particles (*Atom*: 22).
3. The phenomena of isomery--objects having the same mass and
chemical constitution but producing different experimental
results--are explicable only according to atomism. The atomist
assumes that there is something more to atoms beside their mass and
chemical constitution: namely, their direction or positions. The
different results are then ascribed to the different directions or
positions of the atoms (*Atom*: 37). The dynamicist, however,
can refer to only mass and chemical constitution.
4. Two crystal formations can be exactly alike in their parts and
structure even though they are incongruous with one another. The
atomist explains their incongruity from the different directions of
their constituent atoms (*Atom*: 43)
5. A rubber band, when stretched, eventually breaks in one place. The
dynamicist cannot explain this break in a single place; his adherence
to the principle of continuity forces him to claim that the rubber
band stretches *ad infinitum* or breaks in all places. The
atomist explains the break from the growing distance between particles
inside the band; the attraction between the particles lessens as the
band stretches and the distance between the particles grows
(*Atom*: 54-55)
6. When a body expands because of heat, its density diminishes as its
volume increases (*Atom*: 45). The atomist can easily explain
this: the particles spread further apart from one another as the body
is heated.
7. The atomist can explain organic development--the
differentiation of a primal mass into a multitude of organs and
functions--better than the dynamicist, because he claims that the
original apparently undifferentiated mass in fact consists in many
different kinds of particles with their different structures
(*Atom*: 60-62). The dynamicist, who chastens the atomist
for speculation beyond experience, can refer to only the small visible
differences between primal masses, which are not sufficient to explain
differentiation or the differences between individuals.



As case 1 demonstrates, Fechner still holds an aether theory. He even
includes the aether into his summary of his doctrine, according to
which ponderable matter consists in spatially discrete parts, in
between which there is an imponderable substance or aether
(*Atom*: 79). Fechner admits, however, that there is much
uncertainty about the relation of ponderable to imponderable matter.
He knew that the aether theory was problematic, though this did not
stop him from referring to Cauchy's experiments. In the
introduction to Part I of *Atomlehre,* he is explicit that
atomism does not depend on the theory of aether (*Atom*:
14-15). The question whether light or heat are atomistically
explicable is independent of the existence of the aether, he insists.




It was a crucial aspect of Fechner's defense of atomism that it
made no philosophical claims about the nature of matter itself. Its
foundation lies simply with its explanation of empirical phenomena; it
does not attempt to answer deeper philosophical questions about the
possibility of matter and experience. As Fechner put it: the physicist
does not worry about a philosophical analysis of matter anymore than a
builder troubles himself about the chemical analysis of his brick and
mortar (*Atom*: 72). The philosopher always claimed that the
atomist did not go far enough in his analysis of matter, that he did
not try to answer ultimate questions. What he fails to see, however,
is that the physicist does not attempt to answer such questions; he is
only trying to explain the data given in experience. From this modest
empirical point of view, Fechner was willing to make significant
concessions to the dynamicist: perhaps matter did ultimately consist
in forces of attraction and repulsion (*Atom*: 72); perhaps the
spaces between matter were ultimately filled, so that everything is
continuous after all (*Atom*: 76). 



But this modest empiricist defense of atomism was disingenuous. It was
only half the story. For Fechner had a more aggressive philosophical
defense of atomism, a positivist-style counterattack which claimed
that the questions posed by the philosopher are meaningless. Unlike
the physicist, the philosopher does not intend to stay within the
limits of experience; he attempts to go beyond these limits to find
the conditions of their possibility. What makes experience possible
for him is the unconditioned, the thing-in-itself; and his
speculations therefore are so many attempts to know the
thing-in-itself. But the thing-in-itself, Fechner insists, is an
illusion, something which does not really exist (*Atom*: 94,
98). The world does not consist in the appearances of a
thing-in-itself but in nothing more than appearances (*Atom*:
94). Matter is only what appears, or what would appear under certain
circumstances (*Atom*: 95). The idea that there is something
behind the appearances, something that makes them all one thing, is
simply an hypostasis, the reification of a concept that unites all
these appearances into one (*Atom*: 96). As part of this
counterattack, Fechner went on to argue that the dynamicist's
concept of force or power is only a reification of the concept of a
law (*Atom*: 106). It did not even make sense to analyze a body
into its powers because power is only a relational concept between
bodies; to attempt to construct matter from powers would be like
constructing sound from tone intervals (*Atom*: 112). 



Also in the spirit of this counterattack, Fechner sets out a
definition of matter which spurns any philosophical account of it.
Matter is defined as what resists the sense of touch; it is nothing
more nor less than "tangibility"
(*Handgreiflichkeit*) (*Atom*: 90). In response to the
philosopher, who asks what is it that is so tangible, Fechner replies
that it is nothing more than what he feels and what he infers from
that feeling (*Atom*: 92). Fechner does not then allow the
philosopher to speculate about the sources or conditions of that
feeling. Rather, he claims the very idea that there is something
behind this feeling, that there is a reality that that makes it
possible, is an illusion (*Atom*: 94). 



Hence Fechner's defense of atomism is not what it first appears
to be, or at least not what he pretends it to be. It does not carve
out a realm of experience in which atomism holds, then leaving aside a
transcendent realm which is the proper domain of metaphysics. Instead,
Fechner argues that there is no such transcendent realm and that
metaphysics deludes itself when it speculates about it. In this
respect, Fechner's attack on metaphysics anticipates exactly
what Otto Liebmann would write ten years later in his famous *Kant
und die Epigonen* (1865). 



Though he was very aggressive in his attack on the philosophers,
Fechner insisted that he had nothing against philosophy *per
se*; his target was only *contemporary* philosophy,
specifically the metaphysics of Schelling, Hegel, and Herbart
(*Atom*: xiii). The second part of his book was indeed devoted
to his own philosophy, his own metaphysics of matter. It would give up
the empirical limits on *physical* atomism, and then attempt to
provide a *philosophical atomism,* which would give "the
ultimate construction of matter itself" (*Atom*: viii).
Fechner reassured his readers that he was not sacrificing their
demands for a worldview and that he would sketch one of his own. He
expressed his complete agreement with the philosophers about the need
to investigate "the most universal, the highest and the
ultimate"; he said that he differed from them only in
*how* he wanted to conduct such an investigation. While
Schelling, Hegel and Herbart had followed an *a priori*
methodology, which preceded natural science, Fechner insisted on an
*a posteriori* methodology which would be based upon the
natural sciences. His metaphysics would come *after*, not
*prior to* or *before*, physics (*Atom*: 126).
The foundation for his metaphysics would be nothing less than the
whole of natural science (*Atom*: 127). 



The great hope of Fechner, like many other philosophers of his age
(Trendelenburg, Lotze, Hartmann), was that the natural sciences could
provide a worldview more reliable than the *a priori* methods
of the old metaphysics. The old metaphysics here was not simply the
rationalism of Leibniz and Wolff but the metaphysics of natural
science of Kant, Schelling, Hegel and Herbart, which was still
indebted to the old rationalism in its faith in pure reason. This new
worldview would still be able to satisfy the interests of morality and
religion; and it would disarm the threat of materialism, which
regarded the old morality and religion as little more than
superstition. 



The distinguishing feature of Fechner's new metaphysics is his
insistence that it is based upon experience alone rather than the
*a priori* reasoning of the old *Naturphilosophie*.
Accordingly, the basic principle of his philosophical atomism is that
atoms are "limiting concepts" in the analysis of
experience. This means that they represent the ultimate units of
analysis *hitherto*, so that they involve no claim that the
analysis is complete. Atoms must be defined strictly in relation to
the empirically given; they are not points behind or beyond space and
time but within it; but there is always the stipulation that however
small they are represented to be is never enough (*Atom*: 132).
They appear to our representation as the smallest visible and tangible
points; yet they are are smaller than the smallest we can see and
touch (*Atom*: 156). 



Fechner's new metaphysics did not avoid the problems or the
concepts of the old metaphysics; it simply cast them in a
quasi-empirical dress. Though Fechner adamantly insists that his atoms
be defined empirically, he goes on to attribute to them the classic
properties of the monad, all of which transcend the empirically given.
Thus he writes that his atoms are utterly simple beings, having no
characteristics (*Atom*: 133); that they are extensionless
points (*Atom*: 120); and that they are completely independent
of one another, so that they cannot be connected to one another
(*Atom*: 142). Now Fechner confronts the old conundrum which
caused so much trouble for Leibniz: How do unextended points give rise
to the extended entities of experience? Fechner breezily dismisses the
problem. Extension does not arise from the atoms themselves but the
relationships between them; it is their aggregation which gives rise
to their spatial appearance (*Atom*: 156-157). But this
quick solution still did not explain how spatial relationships could
arise from spaceless beings. 


## 7. Theory of Mind



Beginning in *Zend-Avesta* Fechner set forth a theory of
mind-body relations, which he then expounded in greater detail in his
*Ueber die Seelenfrage* and *Elemente der Psychophysik*.
This theory has been explained in great detail by Michael Heidelberger
(2004: 73-115), who regards it as Fechner's most important
contribution to philosophy. There is no necessary connection between
this theory and Fechner's panpsychism: the theory could be true
even if human minds where the only minds in the universe; panpsychism
is more about the extent rather than the nature of mind.



Fechner's theory begins with a distinction between two
standpoints, two ways of observing or knowing a human being. There is
an internal and external standpoint, corresponding to which there are
two kinds of appearances of a human being, internal and external
appearances. An internal appearance is how I appear to myself or
*self-appearance*; an external appearance is how I appear to
others. There are two kinds of knowledge corresponding to each kind of
appearance. We know ourselves as minds immediately, i.e., intuitively
or directly and without the need to make an inference; but we know
others mediately, i.e., intellectually or indirectly, through
inferences we make from certain signs, viz., actions or words.



The main point that Fechner makes about these standpoints is that
their appearances belong to one and the same thing. There are not two
distinct entities, a mind corresponding to internal appearances and a
body corresponding to external appearances; rather, there is one and
the same thing that appears inwardly to myself and outwardly to
others. "Inwardly it appears to itself thus; and outwardly it
appears thus; but what appears is one and the same"
(*ZA*: 253). Hence Fechner's theory has been described as
a "two aspect theory" of the self. 



This is the simplest formulation of the theory. It becomes more
complicated, however, when Fechner adds other claims to it. The most
striking of these claims is that the mind and body are nothing but
their appearances. The mind is nothing but its (actual and possible)
appearances to itself; and the body is nothing but its (actual and
possible) appearances to others. There is no mind in itself beyond how
it appears to itself; and there is no body in itself, apart from and
prior to how it appears to others. The theory then is a form of
"neutral monism", according to which there is one and the
same kind of thing which has two aspects or attributes depending on
how it is
 viewed.[14]
 This thing consists in only its appearances, whether internal or
external.



Another claim that Fechner adds to his theory is that the two
appearances are connected to one another in a causal or law-like way
(see 1861: 211 and *ZA*: 253). Hence he says explicitly that
they are in a relation of interchange (*Wechselbedingheit*),
that they are intimately connected with one another (*solidarisch
zusammenhangen*) (1861: 211). This is notable because some dual
aspect theories exclude the possibility of any interaction between the
mental and physical appearances precisely because they are such
different kinds of attribute. Spinoza, for example, forbade any causal
interaction between the mental and physical because they were such
different kinds of attribute of substance (Spinoza 1677: Pars Prima,
Propositio VI & X). Fechner saw the interaction as problematic, as
difficult to explain, but he did not forbid its possibility. Despite
all the differences between mental and physical characteristics, he
assumed that they referred to distinct events which, somehow, could
interact. The whole purpose of his *Psychophysik* was to
explain the interaction between them. 



Still another puzzling claim added to Fechner's theory is what
he calls "the most universal law of psychophysics": that
nothing exists, originates or acts in the mind without something
existing, originating or acting in the body; in other words,
everything mental has its expression in the physical (1861: 211). This
principle seems to bias the connection between mind and body, so that
the mind appears as the body but not conversely; but the theory
originally called for a *reciprocal* connection or interaction
between mind and body (as we have just seen above).



It is on the basis of this universal law that Fechner's theory
has been described as "materialist" (Heidelberger 2004:
98, 107). This is an odd description, though, because the law seems to
postulate that the mind has an efficacy on the body rather than the
conversely. Materialist theories are often epiphenomenal, allowing the
causal direction to move only from the body to the mind. But
Fechner's law seems to say the opposite. 



We will leave aside, for reasons of space, further complications in
Fechner's theory. To avoid serious confusion, though, it is
necessary to consider, if only briefly, the origins of the
 theory.[15]
 Fechner himself stated that his theory had its roots in
Schelling's *Naturphilosophie* (*Atom*: xiv).
There is a certain plausibility to Fechner's genealogy. In the
early 1800s Schelling had developed his own dual aspect theory of the
mind and body, according to which the mental and physical, the ideal
and the real, are two equal and independent appearances of the
absolute. We need not cast doubt on Fechner's genealogy. The
*initial impetus* for his dual aspect theory might indeed have
been Schelling; perhaps, if he had not read Schelling, he would never
have suggested a dual aspect theory. Still, it is important to see
that Fechner developed his theory along lines completely different
from Schelling's. It was a fundamental principle of
Schelling's theory that the mental and physical are one and the
same because they are different manifestations or appearances of
living force; the mental is the highest organization and development
of that force, the physical is its lowest organization and
development. His theory therefore rested upon the dynamic theory of
matter central to his *Naturphilosophie*. But Fechner, as we
have seen, rejected this theory, which was in conflict with his
atomism. Furthermore, Schelling, like Spinoza, forbade the possibility
of interaction between the mental and physical, the very possibility
that Fechner wanted to investigate (Schelling 1859: I/4, 344).