The Kantian Foundation of Schopenhauers Pessimism 2017

Downloaded by [University of California, San Diego] at 09:12 03 May 2017
The Kantian Foundation of

Schopenhauer’s Pessimism
Vanden Auweele’s study is a clear, original, and well-argued reconstruction

of the philosophical underpinnings, and somewhat surprisingly, Kantian
roots of Schopenhauer’s pessimistic world view.
—Sandra Shapshay, Indiana University-Bloomington, USA
This book connects Schopenhauer’s philosophy with transcendental idealism

by exploring the distinctly Kantian roots of his pessimism. By clearly discern-
ing four types of coming to knowledge, it demonstrates how Schopenhauer’s
epistemology can enlighten this connection with other areas of his philos-
ophy. The individual chapters in this book discuss how these knowledge
types—immediate or mediate, representational or non-representational—
relate to Schopenhauer’s metaphysics, ethics and action, philosophy of reli-
gion, aesthetics, and asceticism. In each of these areas, a specific sense of
knowledge serves to disarm a number of paradoxes and inconsistencies typ-
ically associated with Schopenhauer’s philosophy. The Kantian Foundation
of Schopenhauer’s Pessimism shows how Schopenhauer’s claim that he is a
true successor to Kant can be justified.
Dennis Vanden Auweele is assistant professor of philosophy of religion at

the RU Groningen (University of Groningen) and postdoctoral researcher at
KU Leuven (University of Leuven). He is the editor (with Jonathan Head) of
Schopenhauer’s Fourfold Root (Routledge, 2017) and, in Dutch, Philosophy
at Twilight: On Power and Hope, Impotence and Despair (2016).
Routledge Studies in Nineteenth-Century Philosophy
For a full list of titles in this series, please visit www.routledge.com
5 Peirce’s Account of Purposefulness

A Kantian Perspective
Gabriele Gava
6 Mill’s A System of Logic

Critical Appraisals
Edited by Antis Loizides
7 Hegel on Beauty
Julia Peters
8 Pragmatism, Kant, and Transcendental Philosophy

Edited by Gabriele Gava and Robert Stern
9 An Interpretation of Nietzsche’s On the Uses and Disadvantages

of History for Life
Anthony K. Jensen
10 Hegel’s Philosophical Psychology

Edited by Susanne Herrmann-Sinai and Lucia Ziglioli
11 Nietzsche and the Philosophers

Edited by Mark T. Conard
12 Schopenhaur’s Fourfold Root

Edited by Jonathan Head and Dennis Vanden Auweele
13 Nietzsche’s Psychology of Ressentiment

Revenge and Justice in On the Genealogy of Morals
Guy Elgat
14 The Kantian Foundation of Schopenhauer’s Pessimism

Dennis Vanden Auweele
Dennis Vanden Auweele

Schopenhauer’s Pessimism
The Kantian Foundation of
First published 2017
by Routledge
711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017
and by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2017 Taylor & Francis
The right of Dennis Vanden Auweele to be identified as author of this

work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and
78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or
reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical,
or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including
photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or
retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.
Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks
or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and
explanation without intent to infringe.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Vanden Auweele, Dennis, author.
Title: The Kantian foundation of Schopenhauer’s pessimism /
by Dennis Vanden Auweele.
Description: 1 [edition]. | New York : Routledge, 2017. | Series:
Routledge studies in nineteenth-century philosophy ; 14 | Includes
bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016056801 | ISBN 9781138744271 (hardback :
alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Schopenhauer, Arthur, 1788–1860. | Kant,
Immanuel, 1724–1804—Influence.
Classification: LCC B3148 .V36 2017 | DDC 193—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016056801
ISBN: 978-1-138-74427-1 (hbk)
ISBN: 978-1-315-18119-6 (ebk)
Typeset in Sabon
by Apex CoVantage, LLC
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
The Tragedy of Macbeth

William Shakespeare
To Hanna
For all that is yet to come
Contents
Preface xi
Note on References xiii
Introduction 1
1 Schopenhauer’s Philosophical Pedigree 9
2 Schopenhauer on Knowledge 28
3 Schopenhauer’s Metaphysics 83
4 Schopenhauer on Ethics and Action 118
5 Schopenhauer’s Philosophy of Religion 156
6 Schopenhauer’s Aesthetics 175
7 Schopenhauer’s Ascetics 190
Conclusion 222
Bibliography 229
Index 239
Preface
Arthur Schopenhauer was thirty years of age when he published The World
as Will and Representation. While certainly influenced from a great variety
of sources, this work contributed an original and highly influential philo-
sophical theory to the canon of world history. Schopenhauer’s novelty was
then and still is today overshadowed by his rather unfortunate historical
position. He comes after Kant, jointly with Hegel and before Nietzsche. This
means that many of his interventions in philosophy came too late, given that
Kant made many of the same points (and often in a far more complex way
than Schopenhauer); or Schopenhauer had the bad luck of coinciding with
Hegel’s philosophy, which commanded the attention of many philosophers
in the 19th and 20th century (even if largely in terms of a reformulation or
opposition to Hegelian dialectic); or Schopenhauer was not yet Nietzsche and
did not give the intellectual foundation for numerous aspects of postmodern
philosophy. If one would ask any lecturer in philosopher to drop one of the
aforementioned philosophers from a class on the history of philosophy, my
fear is that Schopenhauer would often find himself cut from the syllabus.
Some might even be tempted to speculate that Schopenhauer’s interventions
in the history of philosophy could have been more profound if Schopen-
hauer had the patience to allow his thoughts to develop more fully. Indeed,
speaking from a philosophical perspective, Schopenhauer was rather young
when he declared his ‘single thought’ at the fragile age of thirty. But despite
many of its shortcomings (which scholars galore have not hesitated to point
out), the monumental achievement of penning down his metaphysics of will
at this age is also an accomplishment that few scholars would be able to
match. But who, save for Schopenhauer, would want to be judged by such
a youthful work for all of eternity to come? Scholars of Kant’s philosophy
have a tendency to say that Kant matured only in and through his Critique
of Pure Reason, when the philosopher of Königsberg was already fifty-seven.
At the time of writing this preface as the closing piece of this monograph,
I am of the same age that Schopenhauer was when he published The World
as Will and Representation. I am unsure whether this book will be published
in print before reaching my next birthday, but I am delighted that I have so
much in common with Schopenhauer. Obviously, this is not to say that this
xii Preface
manuscript will rival Schopenhauer’s work. My hopes are only that I could
make good Arthur proud, and I feel humbled by the thought that at the age
of thirty I am capable of contributing a manuscript that I hope deals fairly
with the magnum opus (and many other works) of the misanthropic sage
of Frankfurt. I do hope that I will not have to wait as long as Schopenhauer
had to wait to receive philosophical recognition, though!
Schopenhauer was largely a lone wolf in his philosophy. Although enjoy-
ing correspondence with a good number of friends, foes and disciples, he
was set on making his own way in philosophy. While I like to think of myself
as a solitary worker, I must confess to having received a vast amount of guid-
ance and support. Originally, this work was part of my doctoral dissertation,
which I defended in 2014 at the Institute of Philosophy, KU Leuven. While
the readers of that dissertation would be at odds to recognize the original
text in it, I do remain heavily indebted to the guidance, counsel and friend-
ship that I received from my doctoral supervisor, William Desmond. What-
ever role Kant played for Schopenhauer’s philosophy, I feel confident to say
that Desmond’s influence on my thought is even greater. I enjoyed many
conversations and lectures at the University of Leuven, which has such a
great variety of enthusiastic researchers. Because of the serious risk of leav-
ing someone out, I merely express my gratitude to the faculty as a whole.
I received well-needed financial support from the Research Foundation—
Flanders (FWO), which was instrumental in bringing this book to successful
completion. Two research stays allowed me to converse and interact with
scholars that challenged my previous assumptions. The first of these was in
the spring of 2012 at Hong Kong Baptist University, where Stephen Palm-
quist vehemently challenged my reading of Kant’s philosophy of religion. In
the fall-winter of 2015, I enjoyed a research stay—supported by the Acade-
mische Stichting Leuven—at the University of Southampton. Extensive con-
versations with David Woods and Christopher Janaway have surely enriched
this book. My gratitude also goes to the people at Routledge. The support of
Andrew Weckenmann and Allie Simmons helped to bring this process to a
swift completion. I am also particularly grateful to Maria Kelly for helping
me on numerous occasions for turning my Dutch-styled English into more
proper English. Any mistakes or clumsy formulations that remain are on me.
Two more individuals should be singled out for their remarkable contribu-
tion to this work. Jonathan Head has been my partner in crime on a number
of previous ventures. When we happened to be seated next to each other at a
Kant conference, it quickly became apparent that we shared interests in not
only Kant, but also Schopenhauer and Nietzsche. This was the foundation
for a friendship that, I feel confident to say, was mutually enriching. Finally,
I cannot but express the sincerest of gratitude to Hanna Vandenbussche.
I enjoyed the luxury of being in conversation with you on philosophy—
especially topics such as evil, grace, pessimism and transcendence—for many
years, and it is my profound hope that these conversations might go on for
many years to come. If Schopenhauer convinced me to become a pessimist,
it is you who is seducing me back to optimism. There might be hope yet.
Note on References
Schopenhauer’s works are referenced using the pagination of: Arthur

Schopenhauer, Sämtliche Werke in 7 Bänden. Edited by Arthur Hübscher
(Leipzig: F.A. Brockhaus, 1937). The translations are taken from, with the
exception of the second volume of The World as Will and Representation,
the Cambridge Edition of the Works of Arthur Schopenhauer (see Bibliogra-
phy). Different books are referenced using a set of abbreviations:
UWS: On the Fourfold Root of the Principle of Sufficient Reason

USF: On Vision and Colors
WWV1/2: The World as Will and Representation (resp. volume 1 and 2)
BGE: The Two Fundamental Problems of Ethics
WN: On Will in Nature
PP1/2: Parerga and Paralipomena (resp. volume 1 and 2)
I refer to Schopenhauer’s correspondence by the siglum B followed by the num-

ber of the letter. Translations of the letters are my own unless noted otherwise.
Kant’s works are referenced using the pagination of the Akademie Aus-
gabe: Immanuel Kant, Gesammelte Schriften. Edited by Bd. 1–22 Preussische
Akademie der Wissenschaften, Bd. 23 Deutsche Akademie der Wissen-
schaften zu Berlin, ab Bd. 24 Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen
(Berlin: Verlag Walter de Gruyter, 1900 ff). Translations are taken from the
Cambridge Edition of the Works of Immanuel Kant—except for Critique of
the Power of Judgment (see Bibliography). Different books are referenced
using a set of abbreviations:
A / B: Critique of Pure Reason

GMS: Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals
KpV: Critique of Practical Reason
KU: Critique of the Power of Judgment
IaG: Idea for a Universal History a Cosmopolitan View
RGV: Religion within the Bounds of Mere Reason
Anth: Anthropology from a Pragmatic Point of View
SF: Conflict of the Faculties
MS: The Metaphysics of Morals
Introduction
If one could say that Kant died at least two deaths, one academic around
1798 and one physical in 1804, then one could definitely say that Schopen-
hauer was born at least three times. He was physically born on February 22,
1788, but came to life intellectually only when he published his ‘single
thought’ in 1818 and finally made his big appearance to a wider audience in
1851 with the publication of his Parerga and Paralipomena (which was only
nine years prior to his death). Incidentally, the very notion of being ‘born
anew’ will be central to understanding Schopenhauer’s philosophy.
Because of this fairly late ‘third birth’, most of his mature intellectual
life was spent in morose and disgruntled loathing of what he liked to call
state-philosophers that undeservingly attracted attention that should have
been paid to him. Throughout his writings one can accordingly detect an
impressive amount of wisecracks and witticisms, snide insults as well, at
the expense of his contemporaries—prominently featuring Schelling, Fichte,
Jacobi and Hegel. One likely root of his philosophical disagreement with
these, at that time, more respected thinkers was that, with them, existential
engagement with philosophy was all but lacking. They preferred to continue
age-old, often to Schopenhauer nonsensical, debates so as to sustain their
profession (and secure their paycheck) rather than deal with the cold, hard
truth. Schopenhauer made a remark on this subject in an interview with
the French journalist Frédéric Morin—a note somewhat similar to Friedrich
Nietzsche’s distrust towards ‘systematizers’:1
Mistrust every saccharine metaphysics! A philosophy in which one does

not hear, between the pages, tears, howling and chattering of teeth, and
the frightful din of general, reciprocal murder, is no philosophy.2
From statements such as this, it is not hard to discern why Schopenhauer

exerted such decisive influence on Friedrich Nietzsche. A different but
related potential root of Schopenhauer’s untimeliness was that he would
propose thoughts, positions and concepts that were overly advanced for his
own age since these would become fashionable only during the second half
of the 19th century. Already in 1818, Schopenhauer prophetically realized
2 Introduction
his intellectual fate when he declared that the truth of any philosophical
system is accepted and respected for a brief span of time only, after being
first dismissed and later disparaged: “[Truth is] granted only a short victory
celebration between the two long periods of time when it is condemned as
paradoxical or disparaged as trivial. The author of truth usually meets with
the first fate as well” (WWV1 xv). Most of Schopenhauer’s life was spent
in that first period, but he did briefly enjoy the acclaim of the second phase,
and it could be said that the later 19th-century3 philosophy, and even some
postmodern philosophy, regards some—but certainly not all!—of Schopen-

hauer’s philosophy as something that goes without saying.
Schopenhauer’s untimeliness has a number of consequences, but perhaps
the most academically confounding of these is that most systematic accounts
of the history of philosophy tend to locate his philosophy closer to the later
Schelling and Nietzsche than the early Schelling, Fichte and Hegel. This mis-
take was signaled by Lore Hühn in terms of the noteworthy absence of
literature on Schopenhauer as a post-Kantian philosopher:
Schopenhauer’s main work The World as Will and Representation, hav-

ing its popularity mainly in the second half of the 19th century, belongs
to the most carefully studied texts of post-Kantian philosophy in Ger-
many. The more surprising it appears that the ideological relations,
especially the earliest, of Schopenhauer to German Idealism remain for
the most part unclarified and a desideratum for research.4
It might be an exaggeration to claim that Schopenhauer’s main work is one

of the ‘most carefully studied texts of post-Kantian philosophy’, but Hühn
rightly signals a dearth of research on Schopenhauer’s relationship to early
19th-century post-Kantian philosophy.5 Marcello Ruta similarly points out
how this dearth can be explained by the commonly made mistake to read
Schopenhauer as a post-Hegelian rather than post-Kantian philosopher:
“This absence [of literature] is not only an absence, but the expression of
a mistake with regard to the position of Schopenhauer in the context of
German philosophy in the 19th century. This mistake consists of the follow-
ing: at least from the end of the 19th century, Schopenhauer has been and
remains to be fundamentally considered as a post-Hegelian philosopher”.6
While Schopenhauer’s philosophy undoubtedly pairs up more smoothly
with regard to themes and arguments with the second rather than the first
half of the 19th century, he did nevertheless come to intellectual maturity
in a time that struggled to find its proper bearings from the philosophy of
Immanuel Kant.
Luckily, times are changing: there have been serious attempts to show how
certain aspects of Schopenhauer’s philosophy have a Kantian pedigree, or
that Schopenhauer was at least decisively influenced by a particular reading
of Kant’s philosophy. This is most overtly true for Schopenhauer’s engage-
ment with epistemology and metaphysics. In this vein, Sandra Shapshay has
Introduction 3
rightly emphasized the need to read Schopenhauer as a post-Kantian, or even
neo-Kantian.7 With regard to Schopenhauer’s aesthetics, there are a number
of authors who argue that Schopenhauer’s aesthetics is a transformation of
Kant’s aesthetics.8 This monograph takes these points one step further and
argues that Schopenhauer’s pessimism—together with his ethics, ascetics
and philosophy of religion—are a continuation of Kant’s views. Schopen-
hauer continues a line of argumentation that Kant had already determina-
tively started. As such, this Kantian frame will be a decisive aspect of this
exegesis of Schopenhauer’s philosophy, even of those aspects that do not

seem to blend as smoothly with Kant’s philosophy such as pessimism, reli-
gion and compassion. This Kantian frame is not just a first inspiration and
impetus for Schopenhauer, but also the self-proclaimed premise of Schopen-
hauer’s thought. Schopenhauer signals that the starting point of his philos-
ophy is transcendental idealism, but that he draws different conclusions for
Kant’s premises. As such, he calls his philosophy the “the correct conclusion
[Ergebniss] of Kantian philosophy” (WWV2 13). This could appear awk-
ward, and perhaps even rightly so.
One reason why it might be awkward to read Schopenhauer’s philosophy
as drawing the correct conclusions from transcendental idealism is Schopen-
hauer’s pessimism. Indeed, what renders Schopenhauer’s philosophy perhaps
most untimely among his contemporaries is that he was a fierce advocate for
something we now impose upon his text as pessimism. These days, it stands
as a somewhat uncontestable truth that Schopenhauer was a pessimist and
diligently advocated pessimism as the proper report to existence. Despite
the fact that Schopenhauer does not mouth his allegiance to pessimism all
that much—he is keen on assaulting and humiliating optimism, though—he
has become known to many as the world’s most melancholic philosopher.
This label can be profoundly misleading, however, if it is improperly inter-
preted. What is pessimism? One way to define this concept is to have a look
at its opposite terms, such as ‘optimism’ and ‘realism’ (in a non-technical,
non-philosophical sense). One could say that a realist sees the world as it
is; an optimist then sees the world as it can be; a pessimist mostly sees the
vast distance between what the realist and the optimist see. An optimist
thinks that this is the best of all possible worlds; a pessimist fears that the
optimist is right. A common definition of a pessimistic attitude could then
be as follows: the attitude of a person who believes that the worst thing
might happen on all occasions, which gives rise to such sentiments as gloom
and despair. There has been a long history of discussion of whether or not
Schopenhauer really is a pessimist, and, if so, of what kind.9
What should be intuitively clear is that Schopenhauer’s philosophy has
nothing to do with morose states of mind like gloom and despair. There
always remains a glitter of hope. But what to make of this hope is a conten-
tious matter in itself. As I will argue more thoroughly in what is to come, if
there is even such a thing as a unified sense of Schopenhauerian pessimism,
this must relate to a threefold thesis. First, reality in itself is principally ill
4 Introduction
adjusted to facilitate the desires, designs and goals of all beings. The pri-
mary goal of all being is, according to Schopenhauer, to persevere in exis-
tence, which it attempts to accomplish through sustaining itself by means of
nutrition and procreation, but can do so only for a limited amount of time.
After some time, the life force of all particular beings runs empty and fades
away from existence. It is in this respect that Schopenhauer, in an impressive
reversal of Leibniz’s creed, proclaims this world the “worst of all possible”
(WWV2 667), since an ever so slightly worse world could just not exist. This
world can only barely and for a very short span of time sustain itself and its
inhabitants. Second, the natural tools of all particular beings to accomplish
their primary desires, designs and goals are woefully incapable of accom-
plishing the ultimate end of these. Schopenhauer calls these natural tools
the affirmation of the will to life, and the ultimate end of any human being
is to arrive at a state of happiness, which is, for Schopenhauer, a state of
sustained release from suffering. Insofar as human beings attempt to quench
their desires and achieve happiness, they will actually find themselves in
perennial dissatisfaction. Third, the proper relationship to existence is one in
which the human being radically turns away from the affirmation of the will
to life by means of certain practices that instill a peculiar type of intuitively
grasped knowledge or cognition (I use these terms interchangeably)10 that
silences the will to life. These practices are compassion, aesthetics, religion
and ascetics. As such, Schopenhauer’s pessimism does not relate to the actual
possibility of something good emerging from existence; it relates only to the
redemptive potential of nature and the natural capacities of human agents.
The central purpose of this monograph is then to clarify Schopenhau-
er’s pessimism in terms of these theses whilst elaborating and defending
Schopenhauer’s claim that his philosophy has distinctively Kantian roots.
The major innovation of Schopenhauer’s post-Kantian philosophy was to
tease out an implicit but ambiguous sense of pessimism that was hiding
underneath Kant’s Enlightenment, rationalist optimism. In several other
studies, I have detailed some aspects of Kant’s pessimism.11 The results of
these studies will be summarized throughout this monograph. What should
be mentioned is that there is a definite bipolarity to Kant’s philosophy as it
can be taken, on the one hand, into the heights of absolute idealism (early
Schelling, Fichte, Hegel) but also, on the other hand, into the depths of nat-
uralism (later Schelling, Schopenhauer). By no means do I mean to dismiss
the former, but the other heritage of Kant’s has been largely neglected in
traditional commentaries. This darker aspect of Kant could perhaps even
be shown to contribute to a clear descent from Kant to Schopenhauer to
Nietzsche. Obviously, such sweeping claims cannot be sustained in the
current work. Instead, this monograph focuses on detailing in what way
Schopenhauer departs from a Kantian point of departure to erect a compre-
hensive, pessimistic philosophy that includes a soteriology.
What will be found to be unequivocally central in this endeavor is Schopen-
hauer’s particular approach to knowledge or cognition (Erkenntnis). The
Introduction 5
different aspects of Schopenhauer’s philosophy, namely, build upon a respec-
tive and specific sense of knowledge generated by the pairing of, on the
one hand, the (non-)representational nature of that knowledge and, on the
other hand, the (im)mediate nature of the apprehension of that knowledge.12
Before we are able to understand properly Schopenhauer’s metaphysics
(chapter 3), ethics (chapter 4), philosophy of religion (chapter 5), aesthetics
(chapter 6) and ascetics (chapter 7), we have to come to a proper under-
standing of his epistemology. This will already preliminarily dismantle many
claims of inconsistency that allegedly haunt Schopenhauer’s philosophy—

some of these allegations go all the way back to its inception. Many of these
allegations miss the multifaceted character of Schopenhauer’s philosophical
analysis of knowledge.
The type of knowledge that is central in ‘normal cognition’ is representa-
tional in nature and apprehended via mediation. This means that this type of
knowledge is based upon an external object that is different from the subject
as well as a perceiving subject that is also different from the object. The
knowledge that is gained here comes to be through the merging of subject
and object, which Schopenhauer generally calls a representation:
There are two essential, necessary and inseparable halves to the world
as representation [. . .]. The first is the object, whose form is space and
time, and thus multiplicity. The other half, however, is the subject, which
does not lie in either space or time because it is present complete and
undivided in each representing being.
(WWV1 6)
The second type of knowledge is non-representational in nature, i.e., not

dependent upon an object different from the subject, but still mediated
in apprehension, namely by an embodied subject. As such, this type of
knowledge does not depend on an external object, but still requires to be
apprehended by a subject. This is the type of self-knowledge that is the
central building block of Schopenhauer’s metaphysics as first outlined in
book II of WWV1, namely the knowledge that is conveyed through the
non-representational apprehension of our body as will. The third type of
knowledge is representational in nature, and thus depends on some sort of
external object, but is not subjectively apprehended by an embodied subject.
As such, the external object does not pass through the subjective filter of the
individual, or in other words, the bit of knowledge is received objectively.
Obviously, something has to receive this bit of knowledge, but this is a ‘pure
subject’ rather than a ‘particular subject’. This is the type of knowledge that
is central for Schopenhauer’s aesthetics: the Platonic ideas present them-
selves purely, to a pure subject, by means of the representational object of
an artwork. Such knowledge is also conveyed by certain religious symbols
and allegories that can have a similar redemptive effect. Obviously, Schopen-
hauer does not mean to say that those who enjoy aesthetic perception are
6 Introduction
without bodies. Rather, he believes that the subjective elements that are asso-
ciated usually with perception are lacking in aesthetic perception. The final
type of knowledge is non-representational and immediately apprehended.
This is the intuitive type of knowledge that is central in Schopenhauer eth-
ics and ascetics, which comprehensively and immediately grasps the inner
essence of reality as endless striving. This knowledge facilitates the enduring
transition from a normal subject towards a pure subject.
By distinguishing clearly between these four different types of knowledge,
we will be able to show that Schopenhauer’s philosophy is, for the most part,
self-consistent (chapter 2). Afterwards, we will apply this fourfold distinc-
tion to respectively metaphysics, ethics, aesthetics, religion and ascetics so
as to properly grasp the nature of Schopenhauer’s pessimism. Next to the
multifaceted analysis of knowledge, there is another, rather strangely for-
gotten, key to understanding Schopenhauer’s pessimism, namely its Kantian
legacy. Even though most of Schopenhauer’s philosophy was engaged exten-
sively only in the second half of the 19th century, he did mature at a time
when Kant’s philosophy was the central issue at stake in most philosophical
and even theological debates. Most participants in these debates empha-
size, some more than others, that their philosophy was properly Kantian,
or at least the proper conclusion to be drawn from transcendental idealism.
Schopenhauer was no exception to this rule. The next chapter will then give
an indication of Schopenhauer’s report to Kantian philosophy.
Perhaps the most important Kantian lesson that Schopenhauer took to
heart was that, no matter what, “human beings lead a second, abstract life
alongside our concrete life” (WWV1 101). Human beings are concrete beings
who have an ambiguous intuition that there is more to appearances. This
is odd because, while Schopenhauer did not use the term naturalism very
often, some sense of it seems applicable to his philosophy (see chapter three).
What makes human beings special if naturalism is true? On the one hand,
Schopenhauer holds that all of representational reality is the expression of
one and the same inner essence and, on the other hand, human beings are
first and foremost natural beings in no way qualitatively distinct from the
rest of reality. When not at all constrained by considerations of propriety (if
Schopenhauer was ever constrained by these), he would emphatically insist
that his philosophy does not appeal to transcendence: “My philosophy does
not speak of Cloud-Cuckoo-Land, only of this world, i.e. it is immanent,
not transcendent” (B 280). This naturalism notwithstanding, Schopenhauer
duly held that some natural beings were equipped to escape the immediacy
of natural existence and search for purpose elsewhere. Human beings might
have the same inner essence as the rest of reality; they have a definite ‘des-
tiny’, which is what pulls human beings away from nature:
Two fundamental purposes, diametrically opposed, are constantly cross-

ing each other in [the human being]: that of the individual will, directed
towards chimerical happiness in an ephemeral, dreamlike, deceptive
Introduction 7
existence where, as regards the past, happiness and unhappiness are a
matter of indifference, but the present is at every moment becoming the
past; and that of destiny, evidently enough directed towards the destruc-
tion of our happiness and thereby toward mortification of our will and
elimination of the delusion that holds us chained in the bonds of this
world.
(WWV2 732)
Notes
1. “I distrust all systematizers and avoid them. The will to system is a lack of integ-
rity” (Friedrich Nietzsche, The Anti-Christ, Ecce Homo, Twilight of the Idols:
And Other Writings. Edited by Aaron Ridley and Judith Norman (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2005), p. 159).
2. “Misstrauen Sie jeder süsslichen Metaphysik! Eine Philosophie, in der man
zwischen den Seiten nicht die Tränen, das Heulen und Zähneklappern und
das furchtbare Getöse des gegenseitigen allgemeinen Mordens hört, ist keine
Philosophie” (Arthur Hübscher, ‘Schopenhauers Gespräche’. In: Jahrbuch der
Schopenhauer-Gesellschaft 20 (1933) 331; Translation taken from: Peter Dews,
The Idea of Evil (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2013), p. 124.
3. Next to Nietzsche, Schopenhauer exerted impressive influence on the circle sur-
rounding Richard Wagner, but also on the so-called school of pessimism (Eduard
Von Hartmann, Paul Deussen). Nietzsche’s engagement with Schopenhauer could
have been significantly influenced by the latter. For an account of Schopenhauer’s
influence in the later 19th century: Stephan Atzert, Im Schatten Schopenhauers:
Nietzsche, Deussen und Freud (Würzburg: Königshausen und Neumann, 2015).
4. “Schopenhauers Hauptwerk Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung gehört, seiner
Popularität in der zweiten Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts entsprechend, zu den an
sorgfältigsten erforschen Texten der nachkantischen Philosophie in Deutschland.
Um so erstaunlicher mutet es an, dass die geistgeschichtlichen Kostellationen,
insbesondere die Nähe, in der Schopenhauer zum deutschen Idealismus stand,
nach wie vor weitgehend unaufgeklärt und noch eind Desiderat der Forschung
sind” (Lore Hühn, ‘Die Wiederkehr des Verdrängten. Überlegungen zur Rolle
des Anfangs bei Schellung und Schopenhauer’. In: Schopenhauer Jahrbuch 86
(2005) 55, my translation).
5. While it is generally speaking hard to illustrate the absence of something, one
example might be illuminating. Paul Franks has written a highly original and
very comprehensive account of the post-Kantian discussions regarding syste-
maticity, skepticism and transcendental philosophy. An impressive range of
authors is discussed. Schopenhauer is not mentioned even once—which is not
to the demerit of this volume, but does signal a general willingness to disregard
Schopenhauer as an interlocutor in the post-Kantian debates. The three central
topics of this monograph are nevertheless central concerns of Schopenhauer.
See: Paul Franks, All or Nothing: Systematicity, Transcendental Arguments, and
Scepticism in German Idealism (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press,
2005).
6. “Cette absence n’est pas seulement absence, mais qu’elle est l’expression d’une
méprise sur la position de Schopenhauer dans le contexte de la philosophie
allemande du 19e Siècle. Cette méprise tient dans l’affirmation suivante:
Schopenhauer, à partir de la fin du 19e siècle au moins, a été et continue à être
fondamentalement considéré comme un philosophe post-hégélien“ (Marcello
Ruta, Schopenhauer et Schelling, philosophes du temps et de l’éternité. La
8 Introduction
deuxième voie du post-kantisme (Paris: L’Harmattan, 2014), p. 36; my transla-
tion, author’s emphasis).
7. Sandra Shapshay, ‘Schopenhauer’s reception of Kant’. In: Bloomsbury Companion
to Kant, 2nd edition. Edited by Dennis Schulting (London: Continuum Press,
2015) 313–318. See also: Sebastian Gardner, ‘Schopenhauer’s Contraction of
Reason: Clarifying Kant and Undoing German Idealism’. In: The Kantian Review
17 (2012) 375–401.
8. E.g., Bart Vandenabeele, The Sublime in Schopenhauer’s Philosophy (London:
Palgrave Macmillan, 2015); Sandra Shapshay, ‘Schopenhauer’s Transformation
of the Kantian Sublime’. In: Kantian Review 17 (2012) 479–511.

9. For a very helpful overview of these discussion, see the first chapters of: Gerard
Mannion, Schopenhauer, Religion and Morality: The Humble Path to Ethics
(Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003).
10. Christopher Janaway draws, however, a distinction between Erkentniss and
Wissen—translated respectively as cognition and knowledge. Only the latter is
of a conceptual nature, so only it can be called knowledge proper (Christopher
Janaway, Self and World in Schopenhauer’s Philosophy (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1989), pp. 51 and 161–162). I think this difference is important, but it
will not be settled by terminology (Schopenhauer himself abhorred philosoph-
ical terminology and jargon). Instead, I prefer to distinguish between different
forms of knowing on a twofold axis that will be detailed below.
11. See: Dennis Vanden Auweele, ‘Kant on Religious Moral Education’. In: Kantian
Review 20 (2015) 373–394; Dennis Vanden Auweele (2013), ‘New Perspective
on Schopenhauer’s Ontology of Will’. In: Schopenhauer-Jahrbuch 94 (2013)
31–52; Dennis Vanden Auweele (2014), ‘For the Love of God: Kant on
Grace’. In: International Philosophical Quarterly 54 (2014) 175–190; Dennis
Vanden Auweele (2013), ‘The Lutheran Influence on Kant’s Depraved Will’. In:
International Journal for the Philosophy of Religion 73 (2013) 117–134.
12. I am indebted to David Hamlyn’s excellent essay for this distinction: David
Hamlyn, ‘Schopenhauer on Knowledge’. In: The Cambridge Companion to
Schopenhauer. Edited by Christopher Janaway (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1999), pp. 44–62.
1 Schopenhauer’s Philosophical
Pedigree
Schopenhauer matured at a time when philosophy was trying to find its

proper bearings from the revolutionary impact of Kant’s transcendental
idealism. Kant’s philosophy is undoubtedly among the most inspiring and
thought-provoking of the entire modern era. One of the reasons that Kant
still engages many philosophers today, as well as causes wildly different
interpretations both in the past and the present, is that he remained vexingly
unclear on a great number of issues. Keeping both his popularity and ambi-
guity in mind, it should not come as a surprise that a myriad of very different
thinkers arose in the Kantian aftermath, often claiming to be Kant’s true
successors. Most of these successors built upon Kant’s architectonic ratio-
nality and completed the system of reason Kant never finished. Only one
proponent of Kant, perhaps even his greatest adulator, understood Kant’s
philosophy in a very different light. Schopenhauer advanced the view that
transcendental idealism, if thought through correctly, leads to a profound
sense of pessimism. Needless to say, he often stood alone in his interpretation
of Kant, as well as his advocacy of pessimism. Nevertheless, this chapter
seeks to provide a first tentative suggestion that Schopenhauer was on the
right track and that he built upon at least one forgotten strait of Kant’s
transcendental philosophy.
By this, I do not mean to dismiss or even diminish the influence that several
other sources might have had on Schopenhauer’s philosophy. Indeed, there
is something to be said for the idea that Indian thought, Plato’s philosophy,
Goethe and even Christianity are significant factors that profoundly influ-
ence Schopenhauer’s philosophy (we will return especially to Christianity).
The reason for focusing on Kant in this monograph is obvious: despite the
fact of Schopenhauer’s very vocal praise of Kant, not many commentators
have explored the connection between their respective philosophies in terms
of organic development. Such development is of the kind that Schopenhauer
took an element of Kant’s philosophy, often ignored or dismissed, and fol-
lowed its train of thought to its logical and organic conclusion. This prelim-
inary chapter seeks to sketch out the contours of the aftermath of Kantian
philosophy (section one); then it discusses the potential influence of Indian
thought on Schopenhauer (section two) and finally summarizes some of the
10 Schopenhauer’s Philosophical Pedigree
elements of Kant’s philosophy that organically lead towards Schopenhauer’s
philosophy (section three). Particularly those elements in this final section
will be explored more comprehensively when Schopenhauer’s philosophy is
presented more systematically in the chapters to come.
Section 1: The Kantian Aftermath

By the end of Kant’s life, transcendental philosophy had already become the
standard for academic discussions on a variety of subjects. In fact, there were

entire courses at various universities uniquely devoted to clarifying and edi-
fying Kant’s transcendental idealism, most importantly his Critique of Pure
Reason—a work that still commands the interest of many scholars. Among
these professors that made a career of teaching ‘Kantianism’ (while offering
relatively minor criticism) was first and foremost Karl Leonhard Reinhold,
whose idealistic revisionary reading of Kant significantly influenced Fichte,
Jacobi, Schelling and Hegel. Schopenhauer’s primary source for Kant’s phi-
losophy was, however, a slightly less appreciative reader of Kant, namely
Gottlob Ernst Schulze. Schulze inspired Schopenhauer’s life-long admiration
for Kant, but also urged Schopenhauer to study Plato’s dialogues closely.1
In his anonymously published Aenesidemus, Schulze launched a skeptical
attack on Kant’s epistemological model or, more precisely, Reinhold’s read-
ing of Kant’s epistemology. Schulze argued that Kant’s introduction of an
unknown thing in itself as the cause of sensory intuitions was inconsistent
with Kant’s argument that causality is valid only for subjective consciousness
and therefore loses all validity outside of it. Accordingly, Schulze suggested
to remove the in itself from Kant’s philosophy and emphasized the need to
remain skeptical about anything outside of self-consciousness. Schulze advo-
cated that a more rigorous sense of idealism was the proper conclusion to be
drawn from Kant’s epistemological premises in the First Critique.
Although Schulze’s skeptical attack on Kant’s philosophy finds only some
resonance in Schopenhauer’s philosophy, young Arthur did take most of his
first teacher’s advice to heart, as he would carefully study both Kant and
Plato. At times, he could even be read as attempting to reconcile the respec-
tive insights of Kant and Plato (e.g., WWV1 201–202). Schopenhauer would,
contrary to Schulze, remain true to transcendental idealism by emphasizing
the rigorous (toto genere) distinction between the phenomenal and the nou-
menal. Schopenhauer’s slightly naïve allegiance to one unfashionable aspect
of Kant’s philosophy fell on deaf ears ever since the more overtly idealistic
preoccupations of Schelling, Fichte and Hegel clearly began to dominate
the philosophical field. At a young age, Schopenhauer was enthralled by
these philosophical projects, particularly when he moved to Berlin to attend
Fichte’s and Schleiermacher’s Berlin-lectures. While initially deeply enthu-
siastic, Schopenhauer would turn his back on both after only a short time.
Besides doctrinal, methodological and existential disagreements, Schopen-
hauer himself would single out several minor issues that annoyed him. For
Schopenhauer’s Philosophical Pedigree 11
instance, Fichte’s excessive use of philosophical terminology vexed Schopen-
hauer, and Schleiermacher’s obstinate refusal to read the original texts of
philosophers (dabbling with secondary studies),2 which he combined with
syrupy patriotism,3 rubbed the Anglophile Schopenhauer the wrong way.4
Initially, one would find nothing but praise of Schelling in Schopenhauer’s
notes and publications (see especially the first version of Schopenhauer’s
doctoral dissertation), but his approval would wane after a while and make
way for disdain similar to what Schopenhauer experienced for Fichte, Jacobi
and Hegel.
After these earliest engagements with Kant’s philosophy (Reinhold, Schulze,
but also Christian Garve), Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph Schelling in his System
des transcendentalen Idealismus (1800) and Johann Gottlieb Fichte in his
Wissenschaftlehre (1794–1813) dedicated themselves to challenging Kant’s
critique of idealism. Joined later on by Hegel, they would reinforce Kant’s
claims on noumenal rationality and transpose this rationality to a system
that would initially be named ‘philosophy of identity’. Accordingly, they
advocated a more positive use of dialectical reasoning so as to apply the
rational method germane to the Enlightenment to the full range of reality
and through this, in Schopenhauer’s view, they blatantly miss “the amazing
Kant’s” (UWS 1) most important contribution to the history of philoso-
phy, namely his separation of appearances from the in itself. Kant himself
even denounced, in an open letter of 1799, Fichte’s idealistic revision of his
philosophy. While Schelling, Fichte and Hegel were largely sympathetic to
Kant’s theoretical philosophy, they would object to Kant’s speculative agnos-
ticism and extended rational dialectics beyond Kant’s critical boundaries in
such a way that rationality was postulated to govern the full range of real-
ity. Despite the fact of Kant’s public objection to Fichte’s idealism, his First
Critique could be read as leaving the door open for a Fichtean ‘science of
reason’ since Kant himself admits that “a critique” is always “propadeutic”
and must lead to “a system of pure reason (science), the whole (true as well
as apparent) philosophical cognition from pure reason in systematic inter-
connection, and is called metaphysics” (B 869 / A 841).
Contrary to Fichte’s and Schelling’s appeal to dialectical rationality
to complete the system of reason, Friedrich Heinrich Jacobi influentially
argued that the Enlightenment’s emphasis on reason would necessarily lead
to a form of nihilism, fatalism and atheism. In particular, Jacobi believed that
Kant’s philosophy inadvertently leads to atheism by rejecting any truth from
theology or religion that could clash with Enlightenment rationality. Jacobi
was personally intermingled in the so-called Atheismusstreit that would
ultimately condemn Fichte for advocating pantheism, which was, at that
time at least, considered as equally offensive as atheism. Alternatively, Jacobi
espoused renewed faith in revelation to counter the ensuing nihilism by fer-
vently espousing a robust sense of transcendent orthodox theism: “God is
outside of me, a living Being existing on Its own, or else I am God”.5 Jacobi
did aptly envision a future in which nihilism and, at least methodological,
atheism would enter the scene. Friedrich Schleiermacher in his turn opposed
the stark dualism that Jacobi detected between reason and faith by initiat-
ing a philosophical/theological movement that would become increasingly
popular throughout the 19th and 20th century—mostly among theologians,
however—namely liberal theology. Schleiermacher’s main interest was to
reconcile the principles of the Enlightenment with Protestant Orthodoxy,
effectively making him the philosophical father of what is now called ‘Tradi-
tional Hermeneutics’, later on continued by Wilhelm Dilthey, Martin Heide-
gger and Hans-Georg Gadamer. Schleiermacher developed his hermeneutics

mainly in an attempt to find the proper way of interpreting the New Tes-
tament. In his Hermeneutics and Criticism, a work spanning twenty years
and published posthumously, he developed different forms of hermeneutics,
such as grammatical (technical) and psychological (holistic). One of his main
interests was to first clearly discern interpretation from criticism and then
combine these in a comprehensive project of ‘general hermeneutics’. To read
Kant as such a liberal theologian misses, in my view, a lot of the rationalist
and Enlightenment tendencies of Kant’s appreciation of religion.6
In his post-idealistic philosophy (from especially 1809 onwards), Schelling
would distance himself from Fichte and Hegel. In fact, Schelling’s metaphysics
of will and freedom in his Freiheitsschrift (1809) come rather close to Schopen-
hauer’s philosophy in The World as Will and Representation—something
that has prompted repeated allegations of plagiarism. Schopenhauer him-
self noted a striking similarity between Kant’s, Schelling’s and his own phi-
losophy repeatedly (e.g., BGE 82–84). In the first edition of his doctoral
dissertation, Schopenhauer even praises Schelling for giving a “very worth-
while and clarifying exposition of Kant’s teaching” (UWS 76–77). In later
editions of this work, Schopenhauer would remove the praise of Schelling
and replace it with something coming rather close to a charge of plagiarism:
“So here Schelling stands to Kant in the fortunate position of Amerigo to
Columbus: someone else’s discovery is stamped with his name” (BGE 83).
While Schopenhauer closely read Schelling’s Freiheitsschrift,7 it is doubtful
whether the ‘misanthropic sage of Frankfurt’ was aware of Schelling’s pos-
itive philosophy and philosophy of mythology/revelation in Berlin of the
1840s. The similarities between their respective projects have been pointed
out by at least one scholar.8
In the wake of Kant’s death, numerous issues were up for debate and phi-
losophers galore would propose their respective points of view throughout
what Rüdiger Safranski calls ‘the wild years of philosophy’.9 The philosoph-
ical scene was open to defend such a myriad of philosophical positions as
absolute/subjective idealism, fideism, Romantic naturalism or liberal the-
ology.10 Most of these philosophical positions took their cues from Kant’s
epistemological model in the First Critique, and even Schopenhauer claims
to pick up only on Kant’s theoretical philosophy. Obviously, Kant’s prac-
tical philosophy and aesthetics were equally of interest to his immediate
successors. But, Schopenhauer, like many others, would explicitly distance
himself from Kant’s moral and religious philosophy.11 How authors such as
Reinhold, Fichte and Hegel engaged Kant’s philosophy has been the sub-
ject of many excellent studies.12 For his part, Schopenhauer would claim
that Kant’s distinction between the noumenal and the phenomenal finally
had silenced the long-standing philosophical debate between realism and
idealism, and was moreover the single most impressive accomplishment of
any philosopher ever since Plato. Kant did, however, not follow through
in drawing the correct, rigorous conclusions of that separation. As such,
Schopenhauer claims not only to be Kant’s successor, but also his corrector.
In his view at least, his own philosophical system is “the correct conclusion
[Ergebniss] of Kantian philosophy” (WWV2 13). While most of Schopen-
hauer’s assertions are certainly up for debate, a charitable reading of his
philosophical project would try to uncover what specific line of argumen-
tation Schopenhauer picks up from Kant and then continues to its correct
conclusion. Before attending to this point, we have to make a slight detour
to what some believe is a more significant inspiration for Schopenhauer’s
philosophy, namely the Indian Upanishads.13
Section 2: The Indian Factor

Schopenhauer is often praised for his willingness to discuss non-Western
philosophy. With the exception of Leibniz, Schopenhauer was likely the first
modern philosopher to discuss charitably and elaborately Eastern thought.
This is most overtly so for the Indian Upanishads. The Upanishads are a
part of Vedic writings (Veda literally means ‘knowledge’), which are ancient
spiritual texts of the Indian Hindu culture. These treat a vast diversity of
subjects of a philosophical and spiritual nature and supposedly prepare a
human being to pierce through the ‘shroud’ or ‘veil’ of Maya to perceive the
world as it truly is, mainly through religious rituals and mysticism. There is
serious debate whether or not Schopenhauer properly understood the mean-
ing and purpose of these texts.14 This discussion is the subject for compar-
ative research and, for our present purposes, it is mainly of interest in what
sense Schopenhauer interpreted these texts and how he incorporated their
subsequent insights, through a Kantian and Platonic transformation, in his
philosophical project. I do not believe that Eastern wisdom has a privileged
place as a formative influence of Schopenhauer’s philosophy. As such, this
monograph focuses on the Kantian inspiration of Schopenhauer.
Schopenhauer’s exposure to Indian thought happened gradually, but
clearly he believed that there was something to be gained, especially from
the Upanishads. In 1801–2, the French Indologist Abraham Hyacinthe
Anquetil-Duperron (1731–1805) published the first translation of, what
he transcribed as the, Oupnek’hat in a European language, namely Latin
(he authored but never published a French translation as well).15 This text
is notoriously difficult to read because Anquetil-Duperron kept the San-
skrit grammar and translated the Sanskrit, word for word, into Latin.
Interestingly, Schopenhauer praises this translation, even though the quotes
he gives of this text are usually paraphrases: “I read this translation with the
fullest confidence, which is immediately and joyfully confirmed. For how the
Oupnek’hat thoroughly breathes the holy spirit of the Vedas!” (PP2 422).
While Schopenhauer certainly would increasingly expose himself to other
texts of Eastern lore such as the Sanhita, Bhagavadgita and Samkhya phi-
losophy (see: PP2 420–425), it is helpful to explore Schopenhauer’s report
to the Upanishads further. The common assumption is that Schopenhauer
was first exposed to Indian thought by Friedrich Majer, an orientalist that

frequented Johanna Schopenhauer’s society parties.16 Indeed, Majer pub-
lished a highly original and influential monograph in 1818 on the subject
of Indian religion, which was titled Brahma oder die Religion der Inder als
Brahmaismus. But, as Urs App convincingly notes, Schopenhauer’s intro-
duction to Indian thought was more equivocal.17 During Schopenhauer’s
student years (1811), he regularly attended a class by one professor Heeren
on Asia-related studies where he would take ample notes. Most of the class
dealt with geographical issues, but there was some of discussion of the Vedas
and Brahma.18 Schopenhauer did already check out some library books on
Indian thought before associating closely with Majer, and he had read the
Das Asiatische Magasin of Julius Klaproth.19 Mention of the Upanishad
is marginal in the first edition of WWV1, but Schopenhauer increasingly
incorporated references and quotes as his knowledge of the Vedic tradition
grew. Incidentally, the increase in exposure to Eastern thought coincided
with an increase in charitable attention to the Christian tradition—but this
is something we will return to later (chapter seven).
As mentioned, Schopenhauer’s exposure to Eastern thought was piecemeal
but it was equally incomplete. Not all of the Upanishads were translated in
the early 19th century. The first, relatively complete, German translation
appeared only in 1882 by Franz Mischel. It remains therefore a matter of
some speculation which texts were actually read by Schopenhauer (and in
what language). One clue to this would be tracing Schopenhauer’s quotes
and references to their source. As such, we find that Schopenhauer refer-
enced the Brhadaranyaka Upanishad (WWV1 213, 243, 334; WWV2 521;
PP2 18), the Maitri Upanishad (WWV2 412, 696), the Taittiriya Upanishad
(WWV2 521), the Mundaka Upanishad (WWV2 580–581, 733) and the
Chandogya Upanishad (WWV1 245, 420, 450; WWV2 702). In WWV1,
Schopenhauer has a lengthy quote, added in the later edition of 1844, where
he recommends reading some of the Upanishads, namely Jabala, Paramaha-
msa, Aruneya and Kena (WWV1 459–460)—nowhere does he quote these
directly, however.
Certain of the Upanishads blend rather well with Schopenhauer’s philoso-
phy, but are not directly or indirectly referenced by him. One example of this
is the Katha Upanishad (part of the so-called Black Yajurveda). This text was
taken up by numerous authors that have admitted to having Schopenhaue-
rian inspirations (Emerson, Thoreau, Whitman). The Katha Upanishad tells
the story of Naciketas, who is send to Yama (death). Naciketas is received
somewhat rudely and is awarded three boons in compensation: “Since you,
a guest to be honoured / have stayed three nights in my house, unfed,—/
Homage to you, Brahma! May it be well with me!—/ Choose three boons”.20
As the third of these boons, Naciketas desires to know about the afterlife:
“There is doubt concerning a man who has departed / Some say, ‘he is’, and
others say, ‘he is not’ / Taught by you, I would know this.”21 Initially deeply
unwilling to grant this last boon, Yama ultimately divulges what is arguably
the core soteriology shared between the Upanishads and Buddhism. There
are two ways of life, one in pursuit of the ‘better’ and the other in pursuit
of the ‘pleasanter’. Yama’s initial unwillingness to answer Naciketas is then
immediately revealed as a test of whether Naciketas prefers the former to
the latter way of life. Yama had namely tempted Naciketas with excessive
worldly wealth as a third potential boon, but “you, Naciketas, contemplat-
ing desires / Both pleasant and pleasant-appearing, have let / them go”.22
The inauthentic, pleasure-seeking life is called samsara, into which most
are bound by avidya (ignorance). In this way of life, the self is perceived from
inside to outward (antaratman); when this is turned around, the illusory self
can warp into the true self (atman) by moving from ignorance to knowledge
(vidya). Part of achieving this is done by breaking the chain of samsara and
thus realizing the ultimate unity of all in brahma. This happening is a salva-
tion (moksha) that delivers human beings from suffering. Those who have
not achieved enlightenment and moksha are not released from the chain of
samsara and, after their death, will be reincarnated in accordance with their
merit (karma).
While we have not yet addressed Schopenhauer’s soteriology, many
elements in there are highly similar.23 The fact that this text is nowhere
mentioned by Schopenhauer should likely be taken as a sign that he was
unfamiliar with it. But even if he was—and it could be argued that this sote-
riology can similarly be found in other Upanishads—in what way exactly
did this influence his philosophy? Schopenhauer himself is rather bold
when he mentions that “each of the individual and disconnected remarks
that form the Upanishads could be derived as a corollary [Folgesatz] of
the thoughts I will be imparting, although conversely my thoughts cer-
tainly cannot be found there” (WWV1 xiii). This suggests that his own
philosophy remains independent from the Eastern wisdom, a notion further
corroborated by his remark in WWV2 that, though there is great “accord
between [his] doctrine ad a religion that the majority of people on earth
have adopted as their own [i.e., Buddhism], “[he] has most certainly not
stood under its influence in my philosophizing” (WWV2 186). As such,
it would stand to reason that Schopenhauer treads the Upanishads and
other Indian wisdom as he would treat any truth-based religion, namely
as “mythological cloaks for truths that are inaccessible to the untutored
human senses” (WWV1 420). We will return extensively to Schopenhauer’s
philosophy of religion below (chapter five).
No specific religion can really count as a determinate inspiration for
Schopenhauer’s work, but this does not mean that there is no real hint of
religion and religious concerns in Schopenhauer’s philosophy. Some would
read Schopenhauer as a strict secularist who, even though recognizing the
pedagogic function of some religions, would be quite happy to relinquish
all religion and religious concerns; others yet, like Nietzsche, believe that
Schopenhauer’s philosophy is a continuation of the ascetic ideal that simi-
larly drives Christianity. As such, Schopenhauer’s philosophy is tainted by
the same life-denying perspective as Christianity:
It was Christianity which first painted the Devil on the World’s wall; it
was Christianity which first brought sin into the world. Belief in the cure
which it offered has now been shaken to its deepest roots: but belief in
the sickness which it taught and propagated continues to exist.24
A similar notion is professed, albeit more approvingly, by a close friend of

Nietzsche and the original founder of the Schopenhauer-Gesellschaft, Paul
Deussen (1845–1919). What Friedrich Paulsen set out to achieve with regard
to Kant’s philosophy,25 Deussen tried to accomplish for Schopenhauer: to
show that there is no significant gap between Schopenhauer’s philosophy and
(protestant) Christianity. Incidentally, Paul Deussen was a renowned Indol-
ogist and wrote a seminal work on the Upanishads,26 but his engagement
with Schopenhauer occurred for the most part in his Die Philosophie der
Bibel.27 Deussen argued that Schopenhauer was a philosophus Christianus,
i.e., a thinker who penetrated the philosophical core of authentic Christianity.
There are indeed striking similarities between Christianity and Schopenhauer,
which will be developed in more depth below. But whether this Christian or
Indian influence was formative for Schopenhauer’s philosophy will remain
a subject of endless speculation. In this monograph, attention will be given
mostly to the Kantian pedigree of Schopenhauer’s philosophy.
Section 3: Schopenhauer’s Kantian Legacy

Arthur Schopenhauer repeatedly suggests that he is the true heir of Kant’s
transcendental philosophy, or, to put it in a more nuanced way, Schopenhau-
er’s philosophy is the ‘correct conclusion of Kantian philosophy’. There were
different potential conclusions to be drawn from Kant’s philosophy, most of
which predominantly focused on the rational architectonics of self-activating
reason. There is another side to Kant, however, a ‘dark side’ if you will, that
tends to be ‘overshadowed’ by the success of his idealist successors. This
gloomier, pessimistic Kant is not given due attention in the literature. I will
here outline the general points of that more pessimistic side of Kant and indi-
cate how Schopenhauer builds upon this aspect of Kant’s philosophy. These
points will be further developed in the chapters to come, but here we will give
a few indications why Schopenhauer feels justified in claiming that he is the
one who “fearlessly continues [Kant’s] philosophy” (WN xv).
3.1 Noumenon, Freedom and Transcendental Idealism
Kant’s critical philosophy very generally has three purposes. First, limits
are to be erected with regard to the potential reach of human understand-
ing; second, from within these limits, we have to establish what we can
know, what we must do and what we may hope for—as well as discuss all
related fields of these three questions (religion, anthropology, history, etc.);
third, certain transgressions beyond the limits of human understanding can
become necessary in order to warrant the rational consistency of practical

morality and rational hope. These limits are, famously, the limits of possible
experience. In the B-edition preface of the First Critique, Kant succinctly
summarizes these purposes of his critical philosophy by suggesting that “a
critique that limits the speculative use of reason is, to be sure, to that extent
negative” but this may have “positive and very important utility [in der
That von positivem und sehr wichtigem Nutzen], as soon as we have con-
vinced ourselves that there is an absolutely necessary practical use of pure
reason (the moral use), in which reason unavoidably extends itself beyond
the boundaries of sensibility [. . .]” (B XXV). This means that, particularly
in the practical use of reason, we are given the means to extend beyond the
limits of human understanding. At this point then, we are justified to “deny
[aufheben] knowledge [Wissen] in order to make room for faith [Glaube]”
(B XXX).
In this section, I would explore two of Kant’s concepts that are on the
limit (Grenze) of possible experience but are found not to be a boundary
(Schranke) since they have a central role to play in practical reason. These
are the notions of the thing in itself and freedom. Some have read Kant’s
introduction of a thing in itself as a distinct entity or a second reality from
phenomenal reality, which makes this distinction resonate of the traditional
philosophical distinction between ‘true reality’ and ‘reality as it appears’.
Indeed, one sometimes feels that Schopenhauer reads Kant’s distinction with
that traditional dualism in mind. For Kant, however, the notion of a thing
in itself first emerges when one cognitively strips away all forms of sensi-
ble intuition. This is what Kant calls a ‘noumenon in a negative sense’: “If
by a noumenon we understand a thing insofar as it is not an object of our
sensible intuition, because we abstract from the manner of our intuition
of it, then this is a noumenon in a negative sense” (B 307). This is the only
justified sense of attaining to a noumenon, namely by abstracting from sen-
sible intuition the subjective conditions of experience (i.e., time, space, the
categories).28
Kant discusses briefly a positive sense of a noumenon, which is “an object
of a non-sensible intuition” for which we must assume “a special kind of intu-
ition, namely intellectual intuition, which, however, is not our own, and the
possibility of which we cannot understand” (B 307). Clearly, Kant thought
that human beings have no special faculties that allow for a non-sensible
intuition and, from the perspective of the First Critique, the non-sensible
seems to be the same thing as the nonsensical. While Schopenhauer would
argue against the special intellectual intuition advanced by Schelling, Fichte
and Jacobi, he will develop a similar special faculty, namely immediate intu-
ition of ourselves as will, that will allow for a positive characterization of
the noumenon.
Kant does not stop short at using the thing in itself merely as a limiting
concept, but believes this to be the first source of a noumenal causality.29
This means that the thing in itself is the source of sensory affection; or, in
other words, the noumenon is the cause of sensible intuition. This step of
the argument was found to be problematic: how can something beyond the
conditions of sensible intuition—one of these is causality—have influence
that is causal? While there could be a convincing Kantian response to this
objection by refining the distinction between phenomenal and noumenal
causality, Schopenhauer takes this issue as a hint that he ought to establish
differently the relationship between the phenomenal, what he calls represen-
tation, and the noumenal, what he calls will. This would be a first area where
Schopenhauer continues and correct Kant’s train of thought. This subject
will be more extensively discussed in chapter two.
A similar case is to be made with regard to Kant’s analysis of freedom. In
the First Critique, Kant finds an antinomy between necessarily assuming a
causality from freedom or necessarily denying the possibility of a causality
from freedom (B 472–479 / A 444–451). In a nutshell, a causality of reason
could be said to conflict with the natural causality that supposes that no
cause is itself determinatively uncaused. A causality from freedom would be
a cause that is uncaused. In the third analogy, Kant describes this as follows:
By nature (in the empirical sense) we understand the combination of

appearances as regards their existence, in accordance with necessary
rules, i.e. in accordance with laws. There are therefore certain laws, and
indeed a priori, which first make a nature possible; the empirical laws
can only obtain and be found by means of experience, and indeed in
accord with its original laws, in accordance with which experience itself
first becomes possible.
(B 263 / A 216)
But another issue arises: if there is no causality from freedom as absolute

spontaneity, then “there is only a subordinate but never a first beginning,
and thus no completeness of the series on the side of the causes descending
one from another” (B 473–474 / A 445–446). Kant’s solution to this, as is the
case with most antinomies, is to point out how both perspectives are equally
valid from two distinct point of views: the noumenal and the phenomenal.
Both of these are holistically self-consistent and do not require each other;
but from a comprehensive point of view, the noumenal and the phenomenal
are necessary counterparts of the system of philosophy.
Schopenhauer notes that this conflict in the speculative antinomy is
“really the point where Kant’s philosophy leads to [his] own” (WWV1 595).
Schopenhauer interprets Kant’s argument to mean that there is a radical
distinction between the phenomenal realm, which is tyrannically determined
by physical, causal laws, and the noumenal realm, which is absolutely free
and unconstrained by necessity. This was, however, not Kant’s point of view.
According to Kant, the noumenal realm is not mere lawlessness, but univer-
sal, rational normativity. While Schopenhauer never overtly argued for this,
he did seem to believe that this was a mistake. Since the in itself is stripped
of all subjective consciousness, there can be no necessity about the in itself.
In other words, if the in itself is free from all subjective determination, then
it can only be pure lawlessness (we will return to this issue in chapter three).
In reading Kant’s ethics, one is often drawn to the notion—even though
this is an oversimplification—that the phenomenal is to be rearranged in
accordance with the lawgiving of the noumenal. For instance, when Kant
discusses the antinomy of duty in Metaphysics of Morals (MS 417–418), he
is clear that the subject that obligates (homo noumenon) is distinct from the
subject that is being obligated (homo phaenomenon). The lawgiving of the
rational self is to be introduced into the empirical self by a mediator, namely
the power of choice (Willkür). Again, this is an oversimplification. Schopen-
hauer’s philosophy does seem to have a similar goal in mind, if one keeps
in mind their highly different perspectives on the noumenal. For Kant, the
noumenal is rational lawfulness; for Schopenhauer, the noumenal is sheer
lawlessness. As such, Schopenhauer’s philosophy aspires to introduce the
kind of absolute, indetermination in the human agent through a variety of
means (ethics, religion, aesthetics, ascetics).
In trying to achieve this, Kant and Schopenhauer are faced with a simi-
lar difficulty: the phenomenal, natural self is vehemently opposed to sub-
jecting itself to noumenal freedom. While this notion was embryonically
slumbering in most of Kant’s ethical works of the 1780s, he finally con-
ceptualized humanity’s ill-disposition towards the moral law in Religion
within the Bounds of Mere Reason under the title of the propensity to evil
(Hang zum Böse). There is no proof whatsoever that Schopenhauer care-
fully studied Kant’s Religionschrift, given that no mention of this made in
either the published or the unpublished manuscripts. Schopenhauer was
aware, however, that Kant got into trouble with the religious authorities,
and he mentions the term ‘kingdom of ends’ a number of times. Neither of
these necessarily stem from reading Kant’s Religionschrift, especially since
Schopenhauer would probably then have used the term ‘Kingdom of God’.
Schopenhauer did carefully study Schelling’s Freiheitsschrift, in which Kant’s
Religionschrift has a significant part to play. Additionally, since Kant’s idea
of a natural ill-disposition towards the moral law can be found in his other
writings—even the First Critique—Schopenhauer can be assumed to have
known this aspect of Kant’s philosophy. In Kant’s view, because humanity as
a species is universally tainted by this ineradicable propensity to evil, there
arises a moral call to virtue despite the attraction of sensuous pleasure. The
moral dimension to the opposition to freedom is shelved in Schopenhauer’s
philosophy, but he similarly is dealing with a strong opposition to human
freedom. In this, we find most overtly that Schopenhauer continues a line
of thought of Kantian philosophy that the Königsberg philosopher never
pursued to its most radical conclusion: what does it mean that human nature
is radically depraved?
3.2 Nature as Evil

Kant consistently remains skeptical about whether we could ever have

exhaustive knowledge about human nature. Especially with regard to inner,
psychological motivations and the like, we are doomed to grope around
in the dark—which is also why empirical psychology could never be a sci-
ence.30 Anthropology will never have the same level of certainty as math-
ematics or physics. But this does not mean that Kant has refrained from
investigating human nature. Mostly in works of the 1790s, some of which
have been studied thoroughly only for a decade or two, Kant admits that he
is working from the perspective of a rather bleak picture of human nature.
In a memorable passage at the end of his Anthropology from a Pragmatic
Point of View, Kant, the philosophical flagbearer of the Aufklärung, said
about the human species that it deserves “not mere good-natured laugh-
ter at it but contempt for what constitutes its character, and the admission
that this race of terrestrial rational beings deserves no honourable place
among the (to us unknown) other rational beings” (Anth 332–333). There
are numerous locations where Kant lets his readers see into his hands and
helps them to ascertain that Kant is working from pessimistic view of human
nature. I would call this Kant’s existential pessimism, which holds that the
potential goodness, as well as the potential for goodness, of human nature is
poor. If unassisted by rationality, there are no workings in line with human
nature that have any moral potential or even the potential to bring human
beings closer to the moral good. The Protestant theologian Luther would
say: ‘Works do not justify’ (labora non iustificet). This translates to the point
of view that whatever has not passed the tribunal of autonomy, whether
nature, tradition or the supersensible, is to be questioned. Only when these
are justified by rational and autonomous deliberations and concerns can
they be incorporated critical philosophy. But by this it is implied, that what-
ever precedes or even exceeds autonomy is to be distrusted. Something like
this holds true for human nature.
If human nature cannot be supposed to be rudimentarily good, then the
question arises of how it should be approached, both theoretically and prac-
tically. This is a problem that is germane to both Kant and Schopenhauer.
They can be read as trying to formulate an answer to a clear philosoph-
ical problem—maybe, even, the philosophical problem—namely, how to
properly and authentically formulate a workable perspective on epistemol-
ogy, morality, religion, politics, etc., given a primal, more or less unspoken,
acknowledgment that whatever belongs to tradition or nature is not to be
accepted at face value. Nietzsche at one point called this the ‘bad charac-
ter’ of the modern philosopher, i.e., to be suspicious of everything: “The
philosopher pretty much has a duty to a ‘bad character’. It is his duty to be
suspicious these days, to squint as maliciously as possible out of every abyss
of mistrust”.31 The suspicion that Kant and Schopenhauer seem to share is
even more intense than it was throughout the bulk of Western history, since
that which is afforded upon them is not just suspect, but morally dangerous
and therefore in dire need of radical transformation. While their respective
views on the nature and consequences of this transformation dramatically

differ, Schopenhauer and Kant are at the very least of a similar philosophical
mindset in making these initial assumptions. Human nature is not something
that should be univocally embraced, but neither is it something that should
be ‘trained’ or ‘guided’. The primary goal of Kantian, as well as Schopen-
hauerian, philosophy is not to make us well-rounded, happy and stable nat-
ural beings, but to introduce a different form of being. Kant makes this claim
perfectly clear when he talks about how ‘religious instruction’ intends to
transform human beings: “The end of religious instruction must be to make
us other human beings and not merely better human beings” (SF 54).
Kant believes that this revolution can be accomplished by a certain faculty
of human beings which makes them receptive to morality, namely ‘reason’.
In Kant’s terms, the rational law-giving faculty of the human being (Wille)
can re-direct the power of choice (Willkür) from its natural propensity to
give priority to inclinations of self-love over the moral law. This means two
things: first, if the human agent acts upon reasonable imperatives out of
respect (Achtung) for the elevation of the moral law, they are acting in a
morally good fashion (GMS 400) and, second, if the natural behavior of the
human agent is brought under a rational/moral condition, it can become con-
ducive to a good disposition (e.g., MS 391). While many philosophers after
Kant found this dualistic view of human nature somewhat embarrassing and
in need of fine-tuning (most famously Hegel), this is, in fact, the backbone
of Kant’s theoretical and practical philosophy. Namely, there is something
noumenal that ought to interfere in the way we naturally attend to the phe-
nomenal. In theoretical philosophy, this is the workings of a transcendental
critique that puts a halt to dialectical illusion (which is a boundary practice
between the noumenal and phenomenal), where human cognition aspires to
reach beyond its limits of possible experience. Kant’s proverbial battle cry
to this effect sounds: “We must always seek the enemy here in ourselves. For
speculation in its transcendental use is dialectical in itself. The objects that
are to be feared lie in ourselves [. . .]. The seeds of the attacks, which lies in
the nature of human reason, must be extirpated” (B 806 / A 778). Similarly,
in practical philosophy, this would be the confrontation with the moral law
that reshapes our “vice-breeding inclinations” (MS 376) so as to render our
maxims in line with universal rationality.
Schopenhauer overtly picks up on this Kantian distinction, in his view a
‘dualism’, between the natural and the rational. In the Appendix to WWV1,
Schopenhauer divulges that Kant’s distinction between the empirical and
intelligible, as already mentioned, is “where Kant’s philosophy leads to
[his] own” (WWV1 595). Kant’s general distinction between reality as it
appears to the human agent (representation) and how it is in itself (will)
is something that is obviously germane to most of the Western philosoph-
ical tradition, and perhaps even ubiquitous to philosophers associated in
some way with systems of metaphysics and ontology. Schopenhauer will,
however, subscribe to this distinction on the basis of a Kantian criterion,
but will at the same time radicalize this distinction by purifying any left-
over dogmatism from Kant’s theoretical philosophy. In Kant’s view, the
basic formalistic characteristics of representational reality can derive only
from the human agent’s specific subjective constitution, and not from real-
ity in itself, since otherwise reason would be caught in an antinomy with
itself. Schopenhauer will amplify the ontological reach of Kant’s distinction
between the noumenal and phenomenal to such an extent that there can
be no similarities between both realms. In his view, the laws of thought
are valid only for representational reality and can have no bearing upon
the noumenal. As a consequence, the noumenal becomes something that
is unconstrained by any principle. Schopenhauer’s extension, here, is best
understood as consistently thinking through the project of transcendental
philosophy. If the laws of thought are valid only for the phenomenal, then
they cannot be applied in whatever fashion to the noumenal. Kant’s tran-
scendental philosophy still overly depends on concepts that are only phe-
nomenally valid in understanding the noumenal, as well as the interaction
between the noumenal and the phenomenal. Specifically, Kant would have
mistakenly used causality both to provide the distinction between the nou-
menal and phenomenal, as well as to understand the interaction between
the phenomenal and the noumenal.
Continuing upon his ‘mistake’, Kant holds that the noumenal is governed
by universal rational laws. Human beings participate in this noumenal, uni-
versal rationality by means of their rational will (Wille): they confront them-
selves with the normative appeal of the universal law. From this tack, there
is one part of the human agent that ‘obligates’ and another part that is being
‘obligated’. In Kant’s words: “When a human being is conscious of a duty
to himself, he views himself, as the subject of duty, under two attributes:
first as a sensible being, that is, as a human being [. . .], and secondly as an
intelligible being [. . .]” (MS 418). Large parts of Kant’s practical philosophy
are concerned with discovering the ‘interest’ human beings would take in
incorporating noumenal rationality (Groundwork III, Second Critique ‘On
the Incentives of Pure Practical Reason’, etc.). In Kant’s view, human beings
can be brought to incorporate a certain course of action only if that course
of action ‘interests’ them.32 There is, for Kant, no moral feeling of approval
for virtue that naturally leads human beings to moral goodness (Hutcheson,
Shaftesbury): “There is no antecedent feeling in the subject that would be
attuned to morality” (KpV 75). The interest for the moral law therefore must
be born in the confrontation with the moral law; and, since the moral law
commands disinterestedly (ohne Neigung), this interest must be rational, not
sensuous. That interest is the practical feeling of respect (Achtung), which
all human agents rationally feel whenever confronted with the moral law.
Through confrontation with the moral law, human agents stand under a
moral obligation to incorporate that moral law into their maxim, because of
that feeling of respect for the moral law. For Schopenhauer, however, there
are no starry skies above or moral law within that would fill the human
agent with respect for morality. Instead, the in itself of reality is a totally
unrestrained, voracious and chaotic will. As I will argue in more detail in
what is to come, Schopenhauer’s conclusion should be read as organically
grown from a certain line of argumentation in conceptualizing the noumenal
will as pure self-expression that had already determinatively started with
Kant (chapter three).
In his Religionschrift, Kant finally conceptualizes the ill-disposition of
the human being towards the moral law. What surprised most of his read-
ers was that Kant did not locate the problem of moral evil in the seductive
appeal of sensuous inclinations and self-love, but in the free will. In his
view, human agents have acquired a propensity throughout the exercise of
their free will to prioritize self-love over the moral law. This propensity even
goes to the root of their free will (Willkür) to such an extent that the free
will has to be radically (radix = root) changed for good to take effect, for
how can “an evil tree bear good fruit?” (RGV 45). Kant diagnoses as such
within human freedom a pervasive, inextricable and positive tendency to
resist rationality. In other words, human agents have a rebellious dimension
that rises up from within their freedom. This rebellion has to be crushed
from something coming from up high, namely the lofty moral law that while
born from human rationality must exceed it at the same time. To this line of
thought, Schopenhauer proposes a naturalistic experiment: what if all being,
the highest, the lowest, the strongest, the weakest, the rational, the irrational,
is only the expression of a single principle? And what if this single princi-
ple is just that which simply seeks its own self-expression, a principle that
ignores rationality and morality? Schopenhauer avoids any qualitative con-
flict between rationality and sensuality by leveling the playing field on the
basis of a naturalistic interpretation of existence. From this vein, Schopen-
hauer extends the radical depravity that Kant noted in the human power
of choice to encompass the entirety of reality: what if all of reality is but
the desire to self-expression and to remain unconstrained by any external
principle? Schopenhauer turns Kant’s moral anthropology into metaphysics.
By doing so, he must necessarily eschew concepts such as ‘depravity’, since
such moralistic language is dreadfully out of place if it lacks a counterpart:
there is no morally good disposition to which depravity is opposed. All of
existence dwindles into becoming pure unbridled freedom without forma-
tive constraint, rational or moral. How any morality can follow from this is
explored below (chapter four).
3.3 Rational Postulation and the Architectonics of Reason
An important aspect of Kant’s moral philosophy is the rational deduction
of the apodictic reality of autonomy and the practical necessity of duti-
ful adherence to the moral law. After Groundwork for the Metaphysics of
Morals (in which his mode of operation is different), Kant would accept
the so-called moral ‘fact of reason’ that there is such a thing as moral duty
that applies to human beings. A constitutive enabling condition of moral
duty is moral autonomy as the capacity to act in accordance with duty.

To put it bluntly: because moral duty is real, autonomy must be equally
real. This rational inference will recur throughout Kant’s writings: all the
elements that are necessary for the consistency and cogency of moral virtue
ought to be real. What is interesting is that, in making these considerations,
Kant turns to another, in his view equally valid, interest of the human being,
namely the pursuit of happiness. It would be scandalous for morality and
happiness not to converge, but regrettably “the moral law of itself does
not promise happiness” (KpV 128). In fact, the virtuous nature of moral
duty makes it so that the two lines of virtue and happiness are doomed to
forever run parallel (with the possible exception of an uplifting feeling of
self-approbation accompanying the execution of duty). The natural will and
the moral law will never meet; such a sense of holiness is otherworldly, but,
as it is also a necessary focus imaginarius of reason, the otherworldliness of
holiness becomes a postulate of practical morality. This means that, through
the infinite progress of the immortal soul, the human will and the moral
law are postulated to meet in infinitum—much like two parallel lines are
postulated to meet in infinity in Euclidean geometry. But this does not yet
guarantee the positive happiness to which human beings feel entitled when
executing their moral duties. What is here guaranteed is the possibility for the
lack of sensuous dissatisfaction in the execution of duty (holiness), not the
positive happiness in doing that duty. For this, practical reason postulates
the existence of a supreme moral lawgiver that, though unknown to finite
reason, proportions moral merit with appropriate happiness. To put all of
this differently: Kant erects a postulatory moral theology to justify the hope
that the two goals of human nature—happiness and rationality—meet. To
Schopenhauer, however, all of this boils down to wishful thinking: the archi-
tectonic ambitions of human rationality are a response to a ‘metaphysical
need’ that seeks to console us for our lives of misery. The proper conclusion
of Kant’s philosophy, and as such the conclusion of Schopenhauer’s philos-
ophy, is significantly more pessimistic: there is no personal immortality that
grants infinite progress and certainly no just divine judicator that bequeaths
rewards for our moral struggles. There is only this: a natural realm that
swallows the individual whole and does not care for what they think are
their rights. Any rational hope is founded upon irrational delusion because
reality is, in the end, not rational or moral.
To augment the feeling of hope, Kant suggests a philosophy of religion that
conceptualizes a rational religion that cultivates the human agent’s moral
resolve. By molding certain historical practices and beliefs, Kant attunes his-
torical religion to what he calls rational religion, i.e., a religion that arises in
response to moral difficulty. Historical religion must then be enlisted in the
moral struggle by cultivating the good disposition within human agents that
makes them more prone and cheerful in the execution of their duties. Prom-
ising practices include a Christology and an ecclesiology. Without going into
too much detail on this, Kant believes that the cultivation of these practices
can assist human beings in bringing the Kingdom of God down to earth.
Most scholars read Schopenhauer as not seeking assistance from religion,

like Kant, but primarily from art (which Kant also did to some extent in
the Third Critique). According to Schopenhauer, good art can acquaint the
human agent with the Platonic Ideas, timeless archetypes by which the will
manifests itself. Through the contemplation of these, the human agent is
released from servitude to the affirmation of the will to life and enjoys tem-
porary solace. Similarly, the moral incentive of compassion is generated by
the indeterminate awareness of the ultimate unity of all of reality. Through
this, the desires and pains of the particular agent wane in importance with
regard to the suffering of others. As such, moral compassion can provide a
release from a self-obsession that is the root of all suffering. But Schopen-
hauer equally assigns important soteriological potential to religion: religions
that at their core entertain a pessimistic worldview (or are ‘truth-based’) can
allegorically and symbolically communicate this insight to human agents
that are principally unable to reach this through other means, such as philos-
ophy. The highest reprieve from perennial suffering is, however, not found in
compassion, art or religion, but in the immediate and intuitive philosophical
realization of the nullity of all pursuit of happiness, the ultimate unit of all
of reality and the piercing of the veil of Maya. This profound awareness can
work as a narcotic silencer upon desires so as to bring human beings into a
saintly state of nothingness in which they feel no pain.
Schopenhauer built his pessimistic philosophy from Kantian building
blocks. He believes that he corrects Kant on certain things; he aims to com-
plete Kant’s train of thought on others; and finally he is convinced that
he may purge Kant’s philosophy of any leftover dogmatism. While others
took Kant’s philosophy into the heights of subjective and absolute idealism
thereby believing to enclose reality in a historical, progressive reason (Ver-
nunft), Schopenhauer followed Kant’s philosophy down to its deepest roots
and darkness, where he found a potential pessimistic despair that others
wanted to cover up. This is the story of that exploration of the depths of the
Kantian abyss.
Notes
1. David Cartwright, Schopenhauer: A Biography (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2010), pp. 144 ff.; Rüdiger Safranski, Schopenhauer and the Wild Years
of Philosophy. Translated by Ewald Osers (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press, 1990), p. 105.
2. Schopenhauer repeatedly expresses his insistence on reading the primary works
of canonical philosophers rather than second-hand studies: “To read all kinds
of expositions of the doctrines of the philosophers, or in general the history of
philosophy, instead of reading their own original works is like letting somebody
else chew our food” (PP1 35; cf. WWV1 xvi–xxx; PP1 208). It is then somewhat
strange that Schopenhauer provides his own history of philosophy (PP1 35–145).
3. Schopenhauer will have nothing of patriotism, especially when it seeps into the
realm of scientific knowledge. He writes: “Here where the purely and universally
human is pursued, and where truth, lucidity and beauty alone should matter,
what could be more impertinent than to assert one’s preference for the nation
to which one’s own precious person happens to belong, and motivated by such
considerations, weigh it in the balance, thereby either doing violence to the truth
or being unfair to the great intellects of foreign nations, simply in order to praise
the lesser minds of one’s own nation?” (PP2 519).
4. Cf. Safranski, 1990, pp. 120–146; Cartwright, 2010, pp. 336–402.
5. Quoted in Safranski, 1990, p. 64.
6. For a sustained argumentation of this, see my articles: ‘For the Love of God: Kant
on Grace’. In: International Philosophical Quarterly 54 (2014) 175–190; and:
‘Kant on Religious Moral Education’. In: Kantian Review 21 (2015) 373–394.
7. Cf. Schopenhauer liest Schelling: Arthur Schopenhauers handschriftlich kom-
mentiertes Handexemplar von F. W. J. Schellings Philosophische Untersuchungen
über das Wesen der menschlichen Freiheit. Edited by Lore Hühn and Sebastian
Schwenzfeur (Stuttgart: Frommann-holzboog, 2016).
8. Lore Hühn, ‘Die Wiederkehr des Verdrängten. Überlegungen zur Rolle des Anfangs
bei Schellung und Schopenhauer’. In: Schopenhauer Jahrbuch 86 (2005) 55–69.;
Lore Hühn, ‘Der Wille, der Nichts Will: Zum Paradox negativer Freiheit bei
Schelling und Schopenhauer’. In: Die Ethik Arthur Schopenhauers im Ausgang vom
Deutschen Idealismus (Fichte/Schelling). Edited by Lore Hühn (Würzburg: Ergon
Verlag, 2006), pp. 149–160; Lore Hühn, ‘Le mal chez Schelling et Schopenhauer’.
In: Schelling en 1809. La liberté pour le bien en pour le mal. Edited by Alexandra
Roux (Paris: Vrin, 2010) 229–246.
9. Safranski, 1990.
10. Cf. Robert Pippin, ‘The Kantian Aftermath: Reaction and Revolution in German
Philosophy’. In: The Cambridge History of Philosophy in the Nineteenth Century
(1790–1870). Edited by Allen Wood and Songsuk Susan Hahn (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2012), pp. 19–45.
11. Even though Kant’s moral philosophy and a forteriori account of evil in human
freedom were not fashionable, philosophers after Kant were nevertheless forced
to respond to Kant’s assertions. Many of these had a tendency to emphasize
either side of the Kantian coin: the focus lay either with rationality or with the
distance between nature and the good. On this, Peter Dews makes the following
insightful observation: “Perhaps in the end Kant’s attempt, unrivalled in its dig-
nity and profundity, to combine a steadfast confidence in human progress with
a disabused sense of the intractability of human evil, leads into philosophical
perplexities which the appeal to rational faith does not alleviate, but simply
intensifies. It became one of the tasks of the first great post-Kantians to preserve
a due sense of the depth of evil, while finding a way both of justifying hope, and
of keeping hope humanly intelligible” (Peter Dews, The Idea of Evil (Oxford:
Wiley-Blackwell, 2013), p. 41.).
12. See, for instance: Karl Ameriks, Kant and the Fate of Autonomy: Problems
in the Appropriation of the Critical Philosophy (Indiana: University of Notre
Dame Press, 2000); Eckhart Förster, The Twenty-Five Years of Philosophy: A
Systematic Reconstruction. Translated by Brady Bowman (Cambridge: Harvard
University Press, 2012); Franks, 2005.
13. E.g., “Schopenhauer’s moral theory may owe more to Plato, the Upanishads, or
Buddhism than to German Idealism” (Louis Dupré, The Quest of the Absolute
(Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2013), p. 199).
14. These authors believe that Schopenhauer is misguided in his interpretation of
the Upanishads: Johann Gestering, ‘Schopenhauer und Indien’. In: Ethik und
Vernunft. Schopenhauer in unserer Zeit. Edited by Wolfgang Schirmacher
(Wien: Passagen Verlag, 1995), pp. 53–60; Raj Singh, Death, Contemplation
and Schopenhauer (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing, 2007).
15. The full title of the translation was: Oupnek’hat, id est, Secretum tegendum:
opus ipsa in India rarissimum, continens antiquam et arcanam, seu theologi-

cam et philosophicam doctrinam, e quatuor sacris Indorum libris Rak baid,
Djedjer baid, Sam baid, Athrban baid excerptam; ad verbum, e Persico idiomate,
Samkreticis vocabulis intermixto, in Latinum conversum: Dissertationibus et
Annotationibus difficiliora explanantibus, illustratum: studio et opera Anquetil
Duperron, Indicopleustæ. Argentorati, typis et impensis fratrum Levrault, vol. i,
1801; vol. ii, 1802. The first words are interesting: the Upanishad is a secret to
be kept. This issue will return when we address the mystical knowledge that is
necessary for Schopenhauer’s soteriology.
16. E.g., Arthur Hübscher, Arthur Schopenhauer. Ein Lebensbild (Mannheim: Brock-
haus, 1988), p. 68; Brian Magee, The Philosophy of Schopenhauer (Oxford: Clar-
endon Press, 1997), p. 14; Moira Nicholls, ‘The Influences of Eastern Thought on
Schopenhauer’s Doctrine of the Thing-in-Itself’. In: The Cambridge Companion to
Press, 1999), pp. 176–177.
17. Urs App, ‘Schopenhauer’s Initial Encounter with Indian Thought’. In: Schopenhauer-
Jahrbuch 87 (2006) 35–76.
18. Ibid., pp. 37–44.
19. Ibid., pp. 44 ff.
20. ‘Katha Upanishad’. In: The Upanishads. Edited and translated by Valerie
Roebuck (London: Penguin Books, 2003), p. 274.
21. Ibid., p. 275.
22. Ibid., p. 277.
23. For discussion of the similarities and differences: Raj Singh, Death, Contemplation
and Schopenhauer (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing, 2007).
24. Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human. Edited by Reginald John Hollingdale
and Robert Schacht (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), p. 329 [78].
25. Friedrich Paulsen, ‘Kant, der Philosoph des Protestantismus’. In: Kant-Studien 4
(1900) 1–31.
26. Paul Deussen, The Philosophy of the Upanishads. Translated by Alfred Shenington
Geden (New York: Dover Publications, 1966).
27. Paul Deussen, Die Philosophie der Bibel (Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus, 1920).
28. For discussion: Nicholas Rescher, Kant and the Reach of Reason: Studies in
Kant’s Theory of Rational Systematization (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2000), pp. 5–20.
29. Two other sources are rational persons who make free, moral choices and God
who makes reality purposeful. See: Ibid., pp. 21 ff.
30. For discussion: Allen Wood, ‘Kant and the Problem of Human Nature’. In: Essays
on Kant’s Anthropology. Edited by Brian Jacobs and Patrick Kain (Cambridge:
31. Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil. Edited by Rolf-Peter Horstmann
and Judith Norman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), p. 34 [34].
32. For an excellent discussion of this topic: Richard McCarty, ‘Kantian Moral
Motivation and the Feeling of Respect’. In: Journal of the History of Philosophy
31 (1993) 421–435.
2 Schopenhauer on Knowledge
Most first time readers of Schopenhauer’s philosophy tend to assume very

generally that Schopenhauer’s epistemology is a relatively uncritical appro-
priation of Kant’s First Critique, with here and there a bit of fine-tuning.1
This is true, to a certain extent. With regard to the structure and reach
of what we will call ‘mediate representational knowledge’, Schopenhauer
does not seem very far removed from Kant’s epistemology. Obviously, this
is notwithstanding his criticisms of Kantian philosophy in the Appendix of
WWV1. What is more interesting, however, is how Schopenhauer expands
on Kant’s epistemology by introducing three forms of knowing that Kant
does not address. This chapter serves to outline the finer points of Schopen-
hauer’s epistemological model.
Schopenhauer did not become known at first as someone who engaged
Kant’s philosophy, such as Karl Leonhard Reinhold or Schopenhauer’s
philosophy teacher Gottlob Ernst Schulze. Even though Schopenhauer
emphasizes repeatedly that he is Kant’s true heir and that his pessimis-
tic philosophy is the proper conclusion of Kantian philosophy, not many
interpreters have taken these claims particularly seriously. I will, how-
ever, develop the point of view that Schopenhauer thought through some
Kantian insights that lend themselves towards pessimism. At one point,
Schopenhauer suggests that Fichte’s ethics are an ‘enlarging mirror’ for
the demerits of Kant’s moral theory (BGE 179–184). A related claim that
could be made is that German Idealism (Fichte, early Schelling and Hegel)
is an enlarging mirror of one aspect of Kant’s philosophy, namely of opti-
mistic, rationalist, architectonical and systematic idealism. Schopenhauer’s
philosophy might then just be an enlarging mirror for another, less well-
known, aspect of Kant’s philosophy, namely its pessimistic, existential and
recalcitrant anti-systematics. As such, Kant’s philosophy could be read to
have inspired both German Idealism and Romanticism/Existentialism.2
Before this point can be made in full, Schopenhauer’s epistemology is to be
examined comprehensively. Knowledge is at every turn in Schopenhauer’s
system a decisive and pivotal aspect of his metaphysics, ethics, aesthetics
and philosophy of religion, all of which take their cues from a peculiar
approach to knowledge.
Schopenhauer on Knowledge 29
Whether or not Schopenhauer’s claims are internally consistent is a
much-debated issue. I think they are, for the most part, consistent, and the
principle of charitable reading requires us to find the most consistent read-
ing of Schopenhauer possible. There are, however, other ways of dealing
with the alleged contradictions in Schopenhauer’s philosophy. An avenue
suggested by Barbara Hannan is to leave the contradictions as they are:
Should I try to resolve this tension and somehow reveal Schopenhauer’s

philosophy to be consistent? I cannot. Schopenhauer’s philosophy is not

consistent. Schopenhauer was a transitional thinker, bridging the gap
between nineteenth-century and twentieth-century paradigms. It is typ-
ical of such transitional thinkers that they are officially working within
a framework that they are also (half-consciously) trying to overturn.3
Such an approach was first suggested by Nietzsche, who took the paradoxes
of Schopenhauer’s philosophy as a sign of ‘intellectual conscience’. Schopen-
hauer refused to make his philosophy logically cohere, since the world is
not ruled by ‘logic’.4 The same point was made by Iulii Isaevich Eichenwald,
who wrote in 1910:
It would be unfair and unsound to depend on logic as the only criterion

for approaching Schopenhauer’s philosophy. The great pessimist himself
saw his own contradictions perfectly well and had no need of another
critic in that regard. Human truth in and of itself, whichever philos-
opher might be presenting it, seemed to him essentially and eternally
contradictory: Truth is not a system.5
Worth mentioning is, however, that Schopenhauer was adamant about the
fact that his philosophy is fully consistent. In many letters, and particularly in
one to Julius Frauenstädt of 1856 (B 396), Schopenhauer fulminates against
a number of indictments that his philosophical system would be logically
unsound. I believe that G. Stephen Neeley has made some serious strides in
ridding Schopenhauer’s philosophy of the accusation of being inconsistent.6
By focusing on the different forms of knowing in Schopenhauer’s philoso-
phy, several charges of inconsistency can be largely disproven. In this, David
Hamlyn rightly emphasized (a point still valid today) that Schopenhauer
scholars continue to underrate the importance of knowledge, and its vari-
ous forms, throughout Schopenhauer’s philosophy. According to him, these
different ‘types’ of knowing form on a twofold axis: mediate/immediate and
representational/non-representational.7 Four types of knowing can be dis-
cerned in Schopenhauer’s philosophy that arise from four specific objects of
knowledge in accordance with a specific mode of knowing: mediate repre-
sentational knowledge, immediate intuitive knowledge of the will through
bodily feeling, representational knowledge of the (Platonic) Ideas and intui-
tive metaphysical knowledge of the principium individuationis. I believe this
fourfold distinction between different types of knowing is very helpful—
roughly, these are the types of knowledge that are discussed respectively
throughout book one to four of WWV1. Many commentators who claim to
perceive whatever number of contradictions and inconsistencies in Schopen-
hauer’s metaphysics and epistemology would do well to take the differences
between these four types of knowing into account. A proper grasp of the
qualitative difference between these explains how Schopenhauer’s philoso-
phy remains within the confines of transcendental idealism and nevertheless
is capable of providing insight about the in itself.
Section 1: Mediate Representational Knowledge

Schopenhauer seems to establish himself as a more radical idealist than Kant
ever was at the onset of WWV1 (although this is a one-sided perspective that
he will correct further on):
The world is my representation: this holds true for every living, cognitive
being, although only a human being can bring it to abstract, reflective
consciousness: and if he actually does so he has become philosophically
sound.
(WWV1 3)
While Kant does claim that all objects of knowledge are representations, he
did allow for an object that is not a representation, namely, the thing in itself.
Schopenhauer never openly doubts the key Kantian insight that our expe-
riences are not experiences of reality as such, but a subjectively construed
‘representation’ of objective reality. The necessary first step in understanding
Schopenhauer’s epistemology then will be to decipher what exactly it is that
Schopenhauer takes as the necessary presuppositions of ‘sound philosophy’,
and specifically how this involves Kantian Idealism (1.1). After this, we will
be able to define this first form of knowing over and against ‘childish real-
ism’ (1.2), subjective/absolute idealism and skepticism (1.3), and the materi-
alist reductionism that Schopenhauer attributes to the natural sciences (1.4).
1.1 The Preface of WWV1 as the Key to

Schopenhauer’s Presuppositions
The general presupposition of Schopenhauer’s epistemology is, on the one
hand, a basic epistemological distinction between the representational and
in itself of reality and, on the other hand, the inability of representational
thought to pierce through to the in itself. For the most part, Schopenhauer
takes these two points as a given—or, better, a consequence of Kantian
philosophy—and therefore does not add extensive argumentation to prove
these points. One could object to Schopenhauer on these points, but engaging
charitably with any philosopher implies being willing to accept the initial
presupposition of that philosopher.
Although the bulk of Schopenhauer’s philosophically mature life was
spend in quasi-venomous hate of more widely admired philosophers, his
philosophical career started with an attitude similar to the one with which it
would end: boastful, confident, arrogant, playful and self-assured.8 Schopen-
hauer was done the ultimate offense to his self-assured arrogance by being
virtually completely ignored. In his (over)confidence, he felt it necessary to
draw up an extensive reader’s guide in order to prepare the reader for his
work.9 The reader should be acquainted with Schopenhauer’s doctoral dis-
sertation On the Fourfold Root of the Principle of Sufficient Reason; his
essay on Goethe’s theory of colors On Vision and Colors; the philosophy
of Immanuel Kant; the imperfections of Kant’s philosophy concisely sum-
marized in the appendix to WWV1; the philosophy of Plato; and, finally,
the Vedantic Upanishads. If the reader had already bought the book and
was unwilling to first inquire into these, Schopenhauer had the humor and
audacity to suggest a number of recourses: the book could fill a space in
the library; or it could be left in the dressing room or on the tea table of an
educated lady—likely here thinking of the high-society parties of his mother,
from which Schopenhauer was frequently banned; or, failing all the above,
the last recourse a reader could make if he was unwilling to prepare for and
read the work carefully, is to “write a review of [the book]” (WWV1 xiv).
These necessary preparations will shine a light on the preconditions of
Schopenhauer’s philosophy.
Schopenhauer’s doctoral dissertation On the Fourfold Root of the Princi-
ple of Sufficient Reason is very much a Kantian inspired work on epistemol-
ogy and, in Schopenhauer’s own words, the “underpinning of [his] whole
system” (UWS v). The reader’s acquaintance with this work is particularly
necessary for the first book of WWV1 (e.g., WWV1 6, 8, 10, 14, 16, 24, 40,
46, 83, 97). Despite Schopenhauer’s consistent emphasis on the relevance
of this work, it remains one of the least read works of Schopenhauer (with
the exception of to some of his smaller essays).10 The general objective of
Fourfold Root is to point out how the principle of sufficient reason (Satz
vom Grunde) has been poorly interpreted throughout Western philosophy.
Specifically, Schopenhauer argues that this principle has four ‘roots’, namely
the root of ‘knowing’, ‘becoming’, ‘being’ and ‘acting’. He then gives an over-
view of the different possible views (§ 6–13) previously held with regard to
the principle of sufficient reason (i.e., Aristotle, Descartes, Spinoza, Leibniz,
Wolff, Hume and Kant) and subsequently argues that all of these are insuf-
ficiently complex mainly because they confuse the terms ‘ground’ or ‘know-
ing’ and ‘cause’ or ‘becoming’ (§ 15–16).
His favorite target in this confusion is the ontological argument where
the ‘ground’ of something is also understood to be its ‘cause’. Interest-
ingly, Schopenhauer calls this form of confusion the “onto-theological
[ontotheologischen] principle” (UWS 14), i.e., to confuse the different roots
of the principle of sufficient reason. Schopenhauer asserts that modern phi-
losophy has reduced different possible forms of causality to efficient cau-
sality, which has obscured the difference between the principle of sufficient
reason as either the ground of reality or the cause of reality. As will become
clear below, Schopenhauer will point out, on the one hand, how the principle
of sufficient reason is the cause of the representational world without being
its ground and, on the other hand, that the will is the ground of represen-
tational reality without being its cause. Reason is the cause of representa-
tional reality, but the will is its ground.11 Schopenhauer believed that Hegel’s
philosophy in particular was a “monstrous amplification of the ontological
proof” since he equated ‘becoming’ with ‘rationality’ (UWS 12).
In order to rectify this confusion (to which, alas, even Kant fell prey),
Schopenhauer proposes to divide the principle of sufficient reason into a
fourfold by means of four possible classes of objects to which the prin-
ciple can be applied, namely representations (ground of being), concepts
(ground of knowing), space/time (law of causality) and volition (law of
motivation). These four ‘roots’ form the a priori subjectively necessary
framework through which beings endowed with understanding (human
as well as animal) perceive the world. By approaching the principle of
sufficient reason as such, Schopenhauer creates the possibility for a dif-
ferent way of thinking about the relationship between reason and real-
ity. The representational world is necessarily a representation in time and
space that is categorized under certain concepts. Accordingly, there are
four different kinds of necessitation that apply to the representational
world: physical (representation), logical (concepts), mathematical (time/
space) and moral (volition). These four forms of necessitation are univer-
sal and a priori. Therefore, Schopenhauer preliminarily establishes in his
doctoral dissertation a very strict and inescapable determinism that relies
on a specific subjective cognitive apparatus. Equally important, however,
is Schopenhauer’s contention, already in Fourfold Root, that there is no
way to identify the cause of reality with the ground of reality; in other
words, the principle of sufficient reason is the necessary buffer through
which rational beings perceive reality, but not the grounding principle of
reality as such. F. C. White—one of the few scholars who have studied the
work—has captured the threefold purpose that Fourfold Root serves in
the whole of Schopenhauer’s philosophy similarly: “To establish the world
as representational, to establish that the principles of reasoning governing
that world license no inference to a reality beyond it, and to refute the
many claims of those who hold otherwise”.12
The essay On Vision and Colors (Über das Sehn und die Farben) was
written in order to further undermine Newton’s theory of colors in favor of
the different theory espoused by Johann Wolfgang Goethe in his 1810 essay
On the Theory of Colors (Zur Farbenlehren). This essay turns out to be of
only marginal importance, and its insights in no way constitute a vital prepa-
ration for WWV1; Schopenhauer discusses it briefly and casually in a select
number of passages (WWV1 14, 24, 28, 96).13 Schopenhauer intends here
to complete Goethe’s theory into a fuller systematic whole:
[Goethe’s theory of colors] is a systematic presentation of facts; how-

ever, it stops with these [. . .] To complete Goethe’s work, to advance as
an abstraction the supreme principle on which all the data rests, and so
to provide the theory of color in the narrowest sense of the word—this
is what the present treatise will attempt.
(USF 3–4)
Schopenhauer found a kindred spirit in Goethe with regard to a shared

hesitation regarding scientific reductionism, a theme that will return in a
number of paragraphs (WWV1 30–41, 14, 22, 24, 26, 27; BGE 37–38; On
the Will in Nature). Schopenhauer’s non-reductive naturalism will be further
elaborated below (chapter three); for present purposes, it is paramount to
acknowledge that Schopenhauer believes that the ‘life-force’ (Lebenskraft)
of organic being cannot be reduced to scientific aetiology (causes) and/or
morphology (forms). By this, it is meant that scientific reductionism does not
grasp the inner essence of reality by means of its causal and formal method-
ology. In a famous passage of Galilei Galileo’s Il Saggiatore (The Assayer),
Galileo concisely summarizes the underlying claim of positive science:
Philosophy [i.e., physics] is written in this grand book—I mean the

universe—which stands continually open to our gaze, but it cannot be
understood unless one first learns to comprehend the language and inter-
pret the characters in which it is written. It is written in the language of
mathematics, and its characters are triangles, circles, and other geometri-
cal figures, without which it is humanly impossible to understand a single
word of it; without these, one is wandering around in a dark labyrinth.14
Natural science then believes, at least according to Galileo, that the inner
workings of reality are controlled by physical, mathematical laws. For
Schopenhauer, these laws derive from the principle of sufficient reason, which
is valid only for representational reality. Although Schopenhauer sent the
essay to Goethe—who closely befriended and frequently visited Schopen-
hauer’s mother Johanna—it remains a matter of debate whether Goethe ever
seriously studied the essay. Moreover, it could stand to reason that Goethe
would not agree, if he actually read the essay, with some of Schopenhauer’s
all-too-Kantian assertions about perception and colors. Goethe was, how-
ever, one of few people who was not seriously upset by the moroseness and
often arrogance of the young Schopenhauer. When looking back on his initial
encounter with Schopenhauer, Goethe would confide the following in a letter
to Karl Ludwig von Knebel (the text is particularly difficult to translate):
The young Schopenhauer did appear to me as an strange [merkwürdi-

gen] and interesting man. [. . .] Endowed with a certain type of sharp
obstinacy, he sets out to raise the stakes three- or sixfold in the card
game of our new philosophy. One has to wait whether the men of the
profession will let him pass in their guild. I find him witty [geistreich]
and do not worry about the rest.15
Even more important than Schopenhauer’s kinship to Goethe is his adula-

tion of Kant. Schopenhauer holds Kant in the highest of all possible esteem.
He writes in the preface to the first edition of WWV1:
The third demand made of the reader could even have been left unstated,
because it is nothing less than an acquaintance with the most important
phenomenon to emerge in philosophy over the past two thousand years,
one that lies so close to us: I am talking about the principal works of
Kant.
(WWV1 XI)
Do note that, at the time, a close familiarity with Kantianism was customary
among intellectuals of all sort of specialization. Although left unstated at this
point, Schopenhauer is referring mainly to Kant’s transcendental idealism—
particularly the transcendental aesthetic—where Kant pulls up rigorous lim-
its between the world-as-it-appears and the world in itself. Drawing this
distinction is “why Kant is so great” (PP2 302). This particular aspect of
Kantianism was, ironically, for some time watered down into a perspectival
distinction rather than a dualism (e.g., John Rawls, Henry Allison) and was
moreover perceived as the weak point in Kant’s system by more radical
idealists such as Fichte, Schelling and Hegel. Recent work has moved into a
different direction.16
Schopenhauer intends to distinguish himself from mainstream philosophy
by further radicalizing Kant’s distinction between the phenomenal and nou-
menal. But Schopenhauer’s indebtedness to Kant does not stop short at the
findings of the First Critique. For instance, Christopher Ryan enumerates
three boons of Kant for Western philosophy in Schopenhauer’s view: the
distinction between the thing in itself and the phenomenon, the cleansing
of eudaimonism from morality and the philosophical destruction of scho-
lasticism.17 As will become clear below, even though Schopenhauer credits
Kant with these evolutions, all three points can be seriously contested. First,
while Schopenhauer and his contemporaries certainly took Kant’s distinc-
tion between the phenomenon and the thing in itself as ontological, another
plausible interpretation would be that Kant understood the distinction as
perspectival, not ontological. Second, Schopenhauer will reproach Kant for
cleansing morality from eudaimonism more in appearance than in reality
because of the practical postulation of the existence of God. While Kant in
principle separated morality from eudaimonism, he reintroduces happiness
as a motivator through his practical theology (BGE 118–119). Schopenhau-
er’s objection to Kant does not hold, in my view, because the postulation of
God does not act as a rewarding agent, but rather allows for the rational
hope that moral virtue is proportioned with virtue.18 Lastly, Kant destroyed,
in Schopenhauer’s view, the credibility of rational theology, i.e., a philoso-
phy of God based on reason. In Schopenhauer’s view, religions are based
solely upon revelation and should not venture into the domain of philoso-
phy. Nietzsche would, however, point out that Kant’s practical theology and
morality are a furtive form of Christian theology and morality. In his view,
scholasticism truly came to an end only with Schopenhauer’s intuitively
atheist philosophy. This would imply that Schopenhauer carried through

the Kantian project that the philosopher of Königsberg failed to complete
successfully.
The appendix to WWV1 is only slightly shorter than the fourth book,
which is the longest book of WWV1. The initial pages consist mainly of
high praise of Kant while offering his relatively minor criticisms. Schopen-
hauer will fully agree with Kant’s Transcendental Aesthetic, he will criti-
cize Kant’s method in the Transcendental Logic and will have an impressive
list of remarks with regard to the generative/conceptual function of reason.
Schopenhauer quotes Voltaire that it would be “the privilege of true genius,
and above all the genius who opens a new path, to make great errors with
impunity” (WWV1 490). There are numerous striking similarities between
Schopenhauer’s and Kant’s philosophy—maybe even more so than Schopen-
hauer acknowledged. Nevertheless, there are several dissonances that largely
remain untouched by Schopenhauer, but one issue that Schopenhauer just
cannot forego from mentioning is Kant’s prose. Schopenhauer remarks
here that there is “nothing about [Kant] of grandiose, ancient simplicity,
of naivety, ingenuousness or candor [antike, grandiose Einfalt, das ihm
Naivetät, ingénuité, candeur, gänzlich abgeht]” (WWV1 509).19 Schopen-
hauer believed that Kant had an unhealthy “delight in symmetry that loves
to take a colorful multiplicity and bring it into order, and then repeat the
order in sub-orders” (WWV1 509). Kant’s excessive fondness for such sym-
metrical order has served to obscure the deep insights upon which Kant had
stumbled, and which Schopenhauer has detected. In order to undo Kant’s
almost autistic methodology, Schopenhauer performs the necessary opera-
tions to “reconcile these contradictions and show that Kant had something
quite clear and determinate in mind” (WWV1 523) so as to find “Kant’s
innermost view [innerste Meinung]” (WWV1 524). This operation is at
times more invasive than Schopenhauer is willing to admit and the careful
reader cannot help but to wonder that Schopenhauer might have read too
much of himself into Kant. Schopenhauer does point out a great number of
fallacious arguments in Kant’s philosophy. These will be dealt with at the
appropriate time.
Schopenhauer also considers the philosophy of Plato and the Indian Upa-
nishads to be an apt introduction and fertile preparation for what he will
ultimately defend. Schopenhauer will pick up from Plato and the Upani-
shads what he picked up from Kant, namely the distinction between the
world-as-it-appears and the world-as-it-is. But Schopenhauer’s approach to
the “divine Plato” seems often an attempt to reconcile this Ancient Greek
with the “amazing Kant” (UWS 1). Plato believed namely, contrary to
Kant, that knowledge can work as a means to pierce through the world-
as-it-appears into the world-as-it-is. Philosophical knowledge can acquaint
thinking agents with the Ideas that lift them above their illusory world of
the senses. For Plato, this knowledge was dialectical in kind. Schopenhauer
agrees with Plato that a certain form of philosophical knowledge can pierce
through the shrouds covering the essence of reality, but then again sides with
Kant that this end-point of philosophical thought neither is reached through
dialectical thought nor involves the Platonic Ideas. The Platonic Ideas are,
for Schopenhauer, the cognitive content of aesthetic experience, which is
ironic because Plato believed that dialectic philosophical knowledge is the
key to pass into the realm of the real, and certainly not art, which is but a
‘reproduction of a reproduction’ (mimesis of mimesis). Schopenhauer, as I
will show below, will attribute a central importance to ‘good’ art as it can
assist the human agent in piercing the veil of Maya and perceive the world
in itself.
All of the above basically show that behind all of Schopenhauer’s praise
of his ancestors and all the necessary preparations to read this book lays
mainly a basic understanding of the distinction between appearance and
reality, probably the most discussed philosophical issue in Western meta-
physics. In WWV2, Schopenhauer names Descartes as the first that took
‘subjective consciousness’ for his point of departure, a path further explored
by Berkeley and Kant: “True philosophy must always be idealistic: indeed it
must be so just in order to be true to itself” (WWV2 5). Accordingly, mod-
ern philosophy, in Schopenhauer’s view, trumps the naive and childish real-
ism of premodern philosophy by taking subjective immediate consciousness
as its point of departure. Despite all his misgivings towards Fichte, Hegel
and Schelling, Schopenhauer’s shares with them the conviction that sub-
jective consciousness is the only valid point of departure for philosophical
investigation.
1.2 Schopenhauer’s Objection to Realism

Schopenhauer opposes any philosophical system that would collapse the dif-
ference between the representation and the in itself of reality, where it matters
not whether this reduction happens in favor of the object or the subject. As
such, his alternative to (absolute) idealism is not its natural opponent real-
ism, since this falls victim to the same illusion. In fact, Schopenhauer believes
that most, especially uneducated, people generally subscribe to some form
of naive realism in which they hold that the objects they perceive are objects
in themselves; these people are “caught in that natural and childish realism
into which we are all born” (WWV1 xxiv). Accordingly, Schopenhauer must
dislodge not only the claims of absolute idealism (Fichte, Hegel), but also
any strong version of realism—the former being philosophically dominant
and the latter popularly dominant.
Schopenhauer notes that modern philosophy has oscillated between real-
ism and idealism, which is really the question of whether the subject or the
object is primary in cognition. Kant has famously resolved this discussion
by introducing the point of view of transcendental idealism. This point of
view states that all experience of an object is apprehended by a subject,
therefore making it impossible to distinguish between the two in experi-
ence (in any univocal manner). Schopenhauer’s discussion of this matter in

many ways repeats Kant’s insights, but for the sake of dramatic effect he
presents this solution as his own. Obviously, the wording of Schopenhauer’s
solution is his own (and therefore far more readable than Kant’s terminol-
ogy), but he does seem to borrow a lot from Kant’s First Critique but also
from Schelling’s early philosophy of the Naturphilosophie (1790s) and the
System of Transcendental Idealism (1790). In Schopenhauer’s view, the solu-
tion to the deadlock between idealism and realism involves recognizing the
co-constitutive function of object and subject. This was already prepared
in his doctoral dissertation, but given more prominence in his later works,
specifically by undermining the debate on the primacy of the object or the
subject by pointing out its false presuppositions. In Schopenhauer’s view, the
false presupposition of this debate is that it is
based on the improper extension [falschen Ausnehmung] of the validity

of the principle of the sufficient reason to the subject [. . .] On the one
side, dogmatic realism claims to separate the representation from the
object by treating the representation as the effect of the object [. . .]
Skepticism opposes this position by arguing that in representation we
only ever have the effect and never the cause [. . .] Both doctrines would
be well advised to note first, that representation and object are the same
thing; and second, that for objects of intuition, their being simply is their
acting.20
(WWV1 16–17)
Throughout the 1790s, Schelling would advance a philosophy of nature

(Naturphilosophie) as a systematic account of reality that starts from the
object; this perspective has to be complemented with transcendental ide-
alism (appropriately systematized) for a comprehensive understanding of
reality. This means that the initial step in both Schelling’s and Schopenhau-
er’s philosophy is to invalidate the very possibility of dislodging object and
subject. In the paragraph quoted above, Schopenhauer makes the somewhat
callous claim of identifying absolute idealism with skepticism. In his view,
both make a highly similar claim, i.e., that there is no object independent
of a subject; realism makes the alternative claim, namely that there is an
object independent of any subject. Idealism puts the emphasis on the subject,
and realism puts the emphasis on the object. Schelling similarly opposed
philosophical realism on the basis that it is a childish prejudice to think “that
there are things outside us”.21 Schelling’s problem is not, like Schopenhauer,
that this point of view misses the necessary connection of objects to sub-
jects, but that one cannot say with immediate certainty that there are things
outside of us. Only the ‘I exist’ has immediate certainty, so says Schelling.
To Schopenhauer, however, the basic starting point of immediate certainty
is that we have representations, which are considered to be togetherness
(Zusammenhang) of subject and object, both equally necessary and consti-
tutive for any representation: no subject without an object and no object

without a subject. At this point, Schopenhauer seems to agree with Kant
that all knowledge is representational, but Schopenhauer will revolutionize
Kant’s account by arguing for three additional types of knowledge (see sec-
tions two through four).
By pointing out how all knowing is representational, Schopenhauer
believes that the realism-idealism debate is invalidated because the repre-
sentation becomes more essential than either the subject or the object. This
means that this debate was indebted to the dialectical confusion of extending
reasoning in accordance with the principle of sufficient reason to the side of
the in itself of the world. In this debate it was believed, namely, that subject
and object could in principle be unconnected, while they necessarily appear
together in representational reality. In the 20th century, phenomenologists
such as Husserl, Merleau-Ponty and Heidegger will deploy similar strategies
against the realism-idealism divide: there is no need to ‘build a bridge’ (Des-
cartes) from the subject to the object if ‘intuitive representation’ is itself the
merging of object and subject. At this point, it is already important to note
that Schopenhauer does not push this argument to extremes since he allows
for the possibility of a non-subjective representation, a representation of
pure objectivity in aesthetic experience. He was nevertheless duly aware of
the novelty of his approach:
This procedure [i.e., to start from ‘representation rather than ‘object’ or

‘subject’] renders our approach utterly distinct from every philosophy
that has even been attempted: these have all started out either from the
subject of from the object, and have therefore sought to use the principle
of sufficient reason to explain the one in terms of the other.
(WWV1 30)
Schopenhauer then disposes of (transcendental) realism mainly in a way

not dissimilar to Kant’s strategy in the Transcendental Aesthetic (WWV1
9–22; UWS 30–33). According to Schopenhauer, Kant has proven beyond
a shadow of a doubt that time, space and causality do not belong to the in
itself properly, only to the representation. And if the in itself does not contain
these qualities, there cannot be such a thing as an object in itself (a mistake
Kant did make, however!). What does make Schopenhauer’s recourse to
Kant’s arguments problematic is the following. Schopenhauer subscribes to
Kant’s argument in the transcendental aesthetic, but ultimately rejects Kant’s
arguments in the transcendental dialectic. This means that Schopenhauer
does not accept that reason is naturally propelled to think ideas such as ‘I’,
‘world’ and ‘God’, even if no knowledge of these can be acquired. This is
relevant for the present discussion because Kant argues in the Antinomy of
Reason that transcendental realism runs into problems because of intrinsic
conflicts by applying concepts such as time, space and causality to the in
itself. This leads to irresolvable questions, such as whether the world has
a beginning, or whether the world is infinite. In a letter to Christian Garve

of 1798, Kant divulges that the conflict of reason with itself was the true
point of departure for transcendental philosophy (not Hume’s criticism of
causality):
It was not the investigation into the existence of God, nor in the immo-
rality of the soul etc. that was my point of departure, but rather the
antinomy of pure reason: ‘the world has a beginning-; it has no begin-
ning etc. up until the fourth: there is freedom,—over and against: there
is no freedom, everything is determined by natural necessity; it was this
that first awoke me from my dogmatic slumber and drove me to the
critique of reason, so as to resolve the scandal of the apparent contra-
diction [Wiederspruch] of reason with itself.22
From this, we can conclude that one of the motivations of Kant’s Tran-
scendental Aesthetic—next to dismantling Hume’s critique of causality and
‘to deny knowledge to make room for faith’—was to provide a solution
to this ‘apparent contradiction of reason with itself’. For Schopenhauer,
this self-conflict of reason clarifies two things: that reality is not build
from a rational, internally coherent principle and that accordingly ratio-
nal inferences beyond representational reality are illegitimate (see especially
WWV1 113–118).
Schopenhauer’s rejection of Kant’s argument in the transcendental dia-
lectic does further imply, however, that Schopenhauer has no reason to
dismantle transcendental realism since the internal conflict of reason with
itself is not a sign of the failure of this thesis. Instead, Schopenhauer’s only
recourse is the argument that the principles of representational reality can-
not be univocally applied to the in itself of reality. This is pertinent because
the so-called ‘neglected alternative’ (NA) to transcendental idealism/realism
then becomes a viable (and perhaps even preferable) option to Schopenhauer.
Schopenhauer has shown only that representational reality is necessarily con-
stituted with respect to certain subjective principles, but he has not shown
that these principle cannot apply to the in itself—Kant did the latter in the
transcendental dialectic. NA suggests that the necessary rational-subjective
transmutation of the in itself into a representation does not imply that the in
itself cannot be formatted in a fashion not completely dissimilar to the repre-
sentation. In other words, the fact that something necessarily belongs to one
side of the equation (the representation) does not exclude it from belonging
to the other side at the same time (in itself), unless it can be shown that these
subjective principles cannot rationally apply to the in itself of reality. Kant
has argued in the antinomy of speculative reason that time, space and cau-
sality cannot properly belong to the in itself, since this would amount to cer-
tain logical inconsistencies. Since Schopenhauer does not subscribe to Kant’s
reasoning in the transcendental dialectic, he cannot and should not rule out
that the world in itself is similarly determined by time, space and causality.
Strangely enough, then, Schopenhauer emphasizes that the in itself of reality

must be radically different (toto genere) from the representation, something
upon which Kant remained theoretically ignorant. Why can Schopenhauer
not accept that the representation is subjectively construed and that the in
itself is made up of similar principles?23 This objection has been repeatedly
posed to Kant, and most commentators would hold that Kant gives insuffi-
cient attention to this very possibility (while I think he solves this problem
in the transcendental dialectic). The problem can be clarified by paying close
attention to the following inference:
Time and space are necessary conditions of experience.

Therefore, time and space can only be ascribed to things as they appear.
Therefore, time and space do not belong to the in itself.
What exactly justifies the last step in the above inference, namely that since
time and space belong to the representation, they cannot belong to the
in itself? Although Schopenhauer and Kant convincingly argue that con-
sciousness stands between the in itself and the representation, this does not
necessarily imply that space and time logically have to be absent from the
in itself. Accordingly, time and space could be the subjective conditions of
experience as well as predicates belonging to the thing in itself.24 There could
then be more of a continuum between the in itself and representations than
Schopenhauer is willing to admit.
In WWV2, Schopenhauer could be taken to argue against NA by refer-
ring to something akin to evolutionary theory (WWV2 283–304), which
was already being developed by Jean-Baptiste Lamarck and Erasmus Dar-
win (Charles Darwin’s grandfather).25 According to evolutionary theory, the
animal being is interested not primarily in truth as such, but in survival
and procreation. Therefore, the human agent takes only the most necessary
and useful information from the in itself, which then forms the content of
the representation. As such, the representation must necessarily be different
from the in itself, since the human agent interacts with it by means of certain
strong interests. However, from an evolutionary point of view, it would not
make sense to gather information from the in itself that is generally at odds
with the in itself. If the information received about the in itself was almost
always wrong (or toto genere different), the human agent would not be very
well suited for survival and procreation! While human agents might not be
primarily interested in truth, their survival does seem to be greatly facilitated
by its representations being as truthful (in the sense of corresponding to
reality) as possible. One would expect Schopenhauer to argue and substan-
tiate his rejection of transcendental/naïve realism further or at least seriously
address NA.
Schopenhauer adds a number of different arguments against NA and
realism that have similar difficulties.26 In one of these, Schopenhauer pro-
poses a thought-experiment to rid the world of all spectators so as to leave
only inorganic objects and plants. According to transcendental realism, this

would be the original state of the world from which self-consciousness grew.
When finally a cognizant being enters the exact same world (and cognizes
it), this world would appear in the mind of that spectator. According to
Schopenhauer, this leads to absurd consequences, which Sandra Shapshay
captures as follows:
The absurdity amounts to the fact that these subjective forms are also
imagined to be identical properties of a completely separate extra-mental
world of things in themselves; NA thus constitutes a possibility that
renders the fit between mind and world as either wholly contingent—a
bizarre coincidence or what one might term ‘accidental realism’—
or, alternatively, as the product of some (wholly unfounded) divine
pre-established harmony.27
Schopenhauer thinks it absurd that either of these possibilities are possible,

and even ridicules the very notion of the similarity of representations to
the in itself. He denies the difference between the first non-cognized and
second cognized world and suggests that all of this is but representational
reality with no bearing on the in itself. This argument is problematic because
Schopenhauer simply rejects the conclusion of the transcendental realist’s
argument, i.e., that the world is made of objects, without being able to refute
any premise. Instead, he constantly refers the reader back to the rigorous and
constitutive difference between the representation and the in itself: “Sub-
jective and objective do not form a continuum” (WWV2 12). A more char-
itable reading of Schopenhauer’s argument here could suggests that he is
proposing an argument similar to one espoused by Bishop Berkeley. Berkeley
argued that, when we attempt to imagine a world/object without a subject,
we would still require a subject to imagine such a world: nothing but an
idea resembles an idea! But this argument seems equally problematic within
Schopenhauer’s philosophy. As will be further developed below, Schopen-
hauer’s naturalism implies that everything—so ideas, representations, con-
cepts, objects, persons—ultimately boils down to the same essence. So the
difference between an idea and an object cannot be one of quality. Another
objection to this line of thought is raised by Barbara Hannan, who claims
that this argument “conflates the act of imagining a world without con-
sciousness with the object of that act”:28 the necessity of having a subject
to imagine an object does not imply that the object cannot exist without a
subject.
Keeping all of this in mind, Schopenhauer does have some ground to
dislodge the claims of transcendental realism, but does not give sufficient
argument to disprove NA. Schopenhauer should probably have argued that
some characteristics of the representation cannot possibly be attributed to
the in itself. Matters become even worse for Schopenhauer than for Kant
since Schopenhauer’s metaphysics stands or falls with the radical difference
between representation and in itself. I will revisit this subject and elaborate
on it further in chapter three.
1.3 Schopenhauer’s Objection to (Absolute)

Idealism and Relativism
Although Schopenhauer initially appears to posit a radical form of ide-
alism at the onset of WWV1, proper caution is necessary to observe the
significant and constitutive differences between his transcendental ide-
alism and absolute idealism. Bryan Magee and Bart Vandenabeele show
that Schopenhauer’s metaphysics is actually idealism and realism both,
namely in the sense of being a combination of transcendental idealism
and empirical realism.29 For Schopenhauer, absolute idealism entails the
claim that there is only one (self-)constitutive object, namely a subject.
While Schopenhauer agrees with such a point of view when it comes to
epistemology—since for him the subject “is the seat of all cognition [Träger
der Welt]” (WWV1 5)—he objects on an ontological/metaphysical level
that representational reality must have a ground (not a cause) outside the
subject.
When it comes to the world of representation, the object and subject are
both equally necessary aspects of the representation: “There are two essen-
tial, necessary and inseparable halves to the world as representation. The
first is the object [. . .] The other half, however, is the subject” (WWV1 6).
Accordingly, absolute idealism overreaches by overly limiting the input of
the object, while realism downplays the input of the subject. Interestingly,
Schopenhauer will not offer an extended argumentation in WWV1 to dis-
prove absolute idealism but expresses his discomfort in brief and snide
remarks at the address of the philosophy professors Fichte, Schelling and
Hegel. Schopenhauer even goes so far to suggest that idealism is typically a
professorial point of view, while he himself “[takes] philosophy too seriously
to have succeeded in becoming a professor of it” (BGE XV; cf. PP2 4–5).
The philosophical reason for his discomfort with absolute idealism is likely
that Schopenhauer took Kant’s transcendental idealism as one of the central
premises of his epistemological model, which implies that the representation
is a subjective transformation of the in itself in accordance with certain a
priori laws of consciousness. Kant’s idealism differs from radical idealism by
means of its emphasis on an unknown thing in itself that forms the ground/
cause of the world-as-it-appears, and to this thing in itself philosophy is
without access.
Despite Schopenhauer’s general allegiance to transcendental idealism, he
does concur with critics such as G. E. Schulze that Kant’s introduction of
a thing in itself is incoherent and self-contradictory—without necessarily
giving in to Schulze’s skeptical conclusions:
Kant grounded the presupposition of the thing in itself in an inference

according to the law of causality, namely that empirical intuition, or

more precisely the sensation in our sense organs that generates empir-
ical intuition, must have an external cause. But according to his own,
correct, discovery, we are familiar with the law of causality a priori; con-
sequently it is a function of our intellect, and thus subjective in origin.
(WWV1 516)
According to Schulze, Kant postulated a thing in itself that would be caus-

ally implicated in generating the world-as-it-appears after Kant had argued
that causality belongs to representation only, and not to the in itself (cf.
WWV1 516–517; WWV2 12–13). Kant made this claim in part to jus-
tify the reality of an objective world external to the subject in response to
Humean skepticism. Schopenhauer’s approach to this issue could be read as
an attempt to reconcile Kantian transcendental idealism with Humean skep-
ticism. The logic of Schopenhauer’s philosophy is to work towards a unique
sense of metaphysical naturalism (like Hume), which explains the philo-
sophical essence of everything by means of one ‘nature’, namely will. But at
the same time, he attempts to retain a sense of epistemological dualism (like
Kant) or even ‘trialism’ if the Platonic Ideas are considered to be somewhere
between representation and the will. As such, Schopenhauer can say that
representational reality is governed by strict rational laws, while coherently
holding at the same time that, at bottom, reality is irrational. He does so
by radicalizing the difference between representational and metaphysical
knowledge: “Empirical intuition is and remains our representation: it is the
world as representation. We can arrive at the essence in itself of this world
only along the completely different path I have introduced” (WWV1 516). If
Schopenhauer wants to maintain an utter and radical difference between the
representation and the in itself, any form of absolute idealism (and realism)
must be abandoned because this identifies representational reality with the
in itself, or at least puts these on a continuum. Kant warded off (absolute)
idealism by emphasizing the necessary existence of a thing in itself. What
Schopenhauer disliked about Kant’s argument is that Kant used represen-
tational rationality (principle of sufficient reason) to argue for this point
of view, which necessarily connects the two realms of representation and
the in itself. The proper conclusion, at least according to Schopenhauer, of
transcendental idealism is that representational and in itself reality are toto
genere different, which explains why Schopenhauer emphasizes at length
that one cannot speak ‘rationally’ about the in itself since rationality is valid
only for representational reality, while Kant still took rationality as a priori,
universal (so also constitutive of the in itself). Schopenhauer then goes on
to belittle his contemporaries for claiming to peer through ‘little windows’
from representational reality towards the in itself of reality:
The name of reason, however, was assigned to a completely imaginary,

or in plain language, a made-up faculty, in which one had something like
a little window that opened upon the superlunary, or indeed the super-
natural world, a window through which could be received, fully finished
and prepared, all the truths that old-fashioned, honest, reflective, and
deliberative reason had previously troubled itself with and struggled
over in vain for centuries.
(UWS 123)
Schopenhauer’s sharp distinction between the in itself and the representa-

tion is therefore backed up by Schopenhauer’s de-rationalization of the in
itself, which comes at the cost of that the “thing-in-itself becomes something
entirely different in kind from representation and its elements” (WWV1 517).
How does all of the above give to bear on Schopenhauer’s views regard-
ing the reach of mediate representational knowledge? Schopenhauer defines
such knowledge as follows: “Knowledge is abstract consciousness: it fixes
in rational concepts what is cognized in other ways [auf andere Weise über-
haupt Erkannen]” (WWV1 60).30 This definition might appear problematic
if improperly read: since the representation is generated by the subject in
accordance with the principle of sufficient reason, all truth would necessar-
ily be subjective, perhaps even relative. Therefore, the original ‘thing’ that
is cognized ‘in other ways’ must be a representation, which is the merging
of a subject with and object. Accordingly, all truth would become subjective
in the sense of being dependent upon a perceiving subject warranting either
relativism, ‘My truth might be different from yours’ or philosophical solip-
sism, ‘I am the only one creating the world-as-it-appears’. Schopenhauer’s
interpretation of transcendental idealism does not seem to allow for a third
option next to solipsism or relativism.
Schopenhauer can, however, counter this objection from two distinct
angles: epistemologically and metaphysically. First, Schopenhauer has not
argued that the subjective nature of the representation necessarily implies
that it is relative. Similarly as Kant, Schopenhauer points out that the con-
cepts of the understanding are common to all rational agents; Kant did not
make the same argument for space and time, but Schopenhauer suggests that
even these are common to all rational agents. Accordingly, the subjective
principles by which the subject transforms the in itself are objectively valid
for all representational knowledge. Second, Schopenhauer will entertain a
different approach to knowledge, on a metaphysical level, that allows him
to comfortably bypass relativism and solipsism: “We will look upon the
skeptical arguments of theoretical egoism as a little frontier-fortress that will
undeniably be forever invincible, but whose garrison can never leave, so we
may go safely past it and not be afraid to leave it behind us” (WWV1 125).
With regard to his rejection of relativism, Schopenhauer makes a vital
suggestion when discussing the realism/idealism-debate. Schopenhauer
notes, namely, that this debate is invalid since it depends on the illegiti-
mate extension of the principle of sufficient reason to the side of the object
by which the object becomes divorced overly rigorously from the subject
in basic representational knowledge. A more naïve openness of the sub-
ject to the object, as representation, is more appropriate here: “The world
lies open for the senses and for understanding; it presents itself with naïve
truthfulness as just what it is: intuitive representation, developing in a
lawlike manner according to the stricture of causality” (WWV1 18). But
mind that this naive sense of openness is not gullible! Schopenhauer readily
accepts that there might be more to appearances. Accordingly, the human
subject is intimately interested in the truth behind appearances. Truth takes
on, in Schopenhauer’s philosophy, a quasi-transcendent value since it is the
most important motivator for human agency, namely as the desire not to
be deceived and to live the most informed life possible (see chapter four).
Schopenhauer is then unsurprisingly interested in finding a way to attain
the most comprehensive knowledge of reality: “Is there a definitive crite-
rion to distinguish between dream and reality” or “is the whole of life not
in some way a dream?” (WWV1 19) Schopenhauer notes that the “only
certain criterion for distinguishing between dream and actuality is in fact
none other than the quite empirical one of waking up” (WWV1 19). By
emphasizing that there is the possibility of a ‘waking up’ from the dream,
Schopenhauer implicitly accepts that there is, on the one hand, an objective
reality behind representations (to which you wake up) and, on the other
hand, that this objective reality can be cognized in some way. Skepticism
and absolute idealism would deny any knowledge that is purely about an
object since they reject the possibility of an object discernible from the sub-
ject. Absolute realism would deny the need to ‘wake up’, so to speak, since it
does not believe that there is any constitutive subjective input in experience.
Kant’s transcendental idealism would deny objective knowledge about the
object-in-itself since there is no (speculative) way to wake up to that more
primordial reality. Schopenhauer believes that it is somehow possible to
‘wake up’ from the illusory world of the senses governed by the principle of
sufficient reason and then to experience the world as it is in itself. So, there
is a truth not subjected to the generative power of the subject and that truth
can ultimately not differ among individuals. This might be Plato’s influ-
ence on Schopenhauer’s philosophy. Obviously, this objective truth is what
Schopenhauer would later on describe as the ‘world as will’. Any charge
of relativism, skepticism or solipsism pertaining to either Schopenhauer’s
conception of the representational world or the objective world is thus
invalidated by, on the one hand, the objectivity of the principle of sufficient
reason and, on the other hand, the possibility of ‘waking up’ to the world
as it is in itself.
1.4 Schopenhauer and the Natural Sciences

Kant’s First Critique is traditionally read as trying to set a ground for New-
ton’s positive science that was challenged by David Hume’s critique of cau-
sality. Kant would then vindicate positive science by arguing for the a priori
necessary nature of causality at the cost of being unable to pursue tradi-
tional, speculative metaphysics. Or as some would put it, Kant sacrificed
speculative metaphysics to the benefit of positive science. Schopenhauer has
a somewhat more equivocal relationship to positive science than Kant and
Hume. The ambiguity can already be observed from two of his minor essays:
in On the Will in Nature, he finds corroboration for his own philosophical
position by going into contemporary scientific discoveries, but in On Vision
and Colors he fervently argues against scientific physical reductionism. The
present chapter is only concerned with the epistemological and metaphysical
claims of positive science; later on, I will more fully develop Schopenhauer’s
own sense of naturalism (chapter three, section two).
Schopenhauer’s attitude towards natural science is summarized well by
his comments in the Preface (added in a later edition) of On the Will in
Nature. Here, he expresses his delight that “from the purely empirical, from
the observations of unprejudiced scientists who follow the path of their par-
ticular science, I immediately arrive here at the core of my metaphysics”
(WN ix). Schopenhauer is happy to find that natural science corroborates
his philosophical arguments. Schopenhauer’s general mode of operation is
actually remarkably close to natural science: rather than disregarding expe-
rience (dogmatic philosophy), Schopenhauer’s philosophy starts from the
empirical and then tries to account for the empirical by investigating its
enabling conditions and principles. In fact, this is what he believes to be part
of the essence of transcendental philosophy. Yet, if we would stop short at
examining experience and thereby forgetting to look for first principles (as
some of positive science does), we are lead “to a crass and stupid material-
ism of which the primary offence is not the moral bestiality of the ultimate
results, but the incredible ignorance of first principles, since even the life
force is denied and organic nature is degraded to a chance play of chemical
forces” (WN x).
This latter reproach shows how Schopenhauer believes that science has
certain pernicious metaphysical pretensions, most importantly a specific
form of realism: “The basic aim and ideal [of positive science is] fully real-
ized materialism” (WWV1 33). Schopenhauer reads scientific materialism
as a species of realism, and so also as the opposite of absolute idealism since
it “posits matter, and along with it time and space, as existing in themselves
and ignores the relation they have to the subject” (WWV1 32). This means
that materialism presupposes that all of reality can be explained by means
of simple material building blocks: the simplest state of matter serves as the
primordial building block where all of the different highly complex systems
of inorganic, organic, sensitive and cognitive life are built from. This means
that cognition is, according to the materialist, “a mere modification of mat-
ter” (WWV1 32). This implies as well that all cognitive life is nothing but a
certain combination of ‘dead matter’. Schopenhauer finds this point of view
ridiculous, and his response is derision:
We would, on reaching the summit [i.e., cognitive life as the end-stage of a

purely materialist project], feel a sudden urge to laugh the unquenchable
[unauslöschlichen] laugher of the Olympians: all at once, as if waking
from a dream, we would realize that cognition, this final, painstaking
[herbeigeführtes] achievement of materialism had already been presup-
posed as an indispensable condition from the very beginning, with mere
matter, that in materialism we had indeed imagined we were thinking
about matter, while in fact we had been thinking of is the subject that
represents matter, the eye that sees it, the hand that feels it, the under-
standing that knows it.
(WWV1 32)
For Schopenhauer, ‘dead matter’ cannot be conceived unless by means of a

cognizing subject. In other words, without a subject to cognize ‘dead matter’,
there is no dead matter and the materialist’s argument collapses upon itself.
Schopenhauer’s derision might be slightly unfounded since he is rejecting the
conclusion of materialism without substantially disproving one of the prem-
ises. Materialism posits that only matter exists, pure objectivity; Schopen-
hauer, however, posits that only a representation exists, which is the merging
of a subject and object. There is, accordingly, a necessary subjective element
in any cognition of ‘dead matter’. But this recourse is problematic because
from the proposition ‘the object of experience is subjectively constituted’, it
does not follow that ‘the object itself is subjectively constituted’. That the
world of representation is subjectively constituted does not exclude that the
objective world in itself might be nothing but ‘dead matter’.31 Schopenhauer
has not sufficiently shown in the first book of WWV1 that the world in itself
cannot be reduced to dead matter—an argument that is satisfactorily made
only in the second book of WWV1. Schopenhauer bombastically continues,
however, that “materialism’s enormous begging of the question” resembles
“Baron von Münchhausen picking himself up by pulling his own pigtail over
his head” and is “fundamentally absurd [Grundabsurdität]” (WWV1 32).
Despite his serious hesitations with regard to the metaphysical ambitions
of positive science, Schopenhauer does detect some nobility in science, i.e., the
ability to instruct us on how different representational objects interact. This
means that science is extraordinarily suitable for navigating, systematizing
and understanding representational reality. This, as he emphasizes however,
“has nothing to do with the inner essence of the world and can never go
beyond representation” (WWV1 34). As a consequence, science should limit
itself to representational reality by keeping its naturalist reductionist mate-
rialism purely methodological, without positing any ontological reality to its
methodological assumptions. Science is uniquely capable of describing the
operations of the representational world because its methodology is aptly
adjusted to the operativity of the representational world, namely the princi-
ple of sufficient reason. This methodology of positive science departs from

three foundational principles. First, it takes a certain root of the principle
of sufficient reason; second, it reduces all different representational objects
to this specific root (reductionism); third, it postulates the basic identity of
all different objects and sciences (homogeneity).32 While this reductionist
homogeneity might be helpful in fleshing out the working of the representa-
tional reality, it is still thoroughly based upon the principle of sufficient rea-
son, which “is not an eternal truth” (WWV1 38). Science must limit itself to
representational reality and leave ontology/metaphysics to the philosophers,
who might have a more appropriate set of tools for investigating the in itself:
science is “for people of good capacity, but who lack the highest capabilities
[höchsten Fähigkeiten]” (WWV1 14).
In conclusion, Schopenhauer subscribes to a form of (transcendental) ide-
alism: the world is my representation. A representation is a merging of an
object with a subject, neither of which is ever given separately (at least, at
this point of his inquiries). This axiom dislodges both absolute idealism,
which, according to Schopenhauer, leads to either relativism or solipsism,
and materialism/realism, which attributes the workings of the principle of
sufficient reason to the object-in-itself. Accordingly, Schopenhauer eschews
any ontological implications from scientific inquiry, as it will simply deliver
more representations, not the in itself.
Section 2: Mediate Non-Representational Knowledge

A type of knowledge that is characterized as ‘not representational’ but ‘medi-
ated’ might appear self-contradictory: how can knowledge be mediated but
not based on a representation? Did not Schopenhauer establish that the object
and subject co-determine one another? What would a non-representational
object be, and how could it facilitate some form of knowledge that is still
qualified as mediated? Answer: the human body.
Schopenhauer acknowledges that quite a bit of the knowledge one has of
one’s body is based upon representations (proprioception, looking at oneself
in the mirror, smelling oneself, etc.), but there is nevertheless a different form
of cognition of one’s body that does not depend on the principle of sufficient
reason. Human beings do not have to represent their body to feel the urges,
drives and needs of their body. This awareness is an immediate acquaintance
that potentially mediates a special type of knowledge, i.e., knowledge based
on introspection not governed by representational logic since it does not
pass through most of the cognitive buffer. The experience of the urges and
drives of our body remains temporal, which is one thing that philosophical
cognition has to abstract from inner experience of one’s own essence in
order to have pure knowledge. While the body does not have to be located
spatially to know our urges, we do locate it in time. By being conditional
upon feeling one’s body, the non-representational knowledge of the body
remains mediated. But by being to some extent non-representational, the
cognition of the in itself of the body is not as clear as knowledge based

upon representations. If we would consider simply the Kantian definition of
knowledge, such insight that does not pass through the cognitive buffer can-
not really be called knowledge (Erkenntnis) since the cognitive component
(principles of understanding and pure intuition of time and space) are lack-
ing. And since Kant emphatically denied the possibility of introspection,33 as
well as a special intellectual intuition of a ‘positive noumenon’ (see above),
Schopenhauer most definitely departs from Kant’s transcendental idealism
in allowing for this type of knowledge.
This section will develop this type of knowledge. First, the represen-
tational knowledge of the body will be addressed in preparation for the
awareness of the body as an immediately experienced, non-representational
object. Second, the immediate object of the body is a gateway to acquire
non-representational knowledge of the in itself of the world. In closing, some
comments will be offered on the long-standing debate whether Schopenhau-
er’s identification of the will with the thing in itself is a coherent proposition
given, on the one hand, his allegiance to Kant’s transcendental idealism and,
on the other hand, his own epistemological model.
2.1 The Human Body as Representational Object

In book one of WWV1, Schopenhauer details a naturalistic and representa-
tional account of the human body, but he immediately admits that this is “an
abstract and one-sided perspective, forcibly separating things that belong
together necessarily” (WWV1 22). The human body is an object that can
be viewed from two distinct angles, namely as a representation and in itself.
The human body is the first object to which Schopenhauer attributes this
twofold perspective, but his ultimate conclusion will be that all objects can
be perceived similarly (chapter three).
The body already appears as a peculiar and unique object from the rep-
resentational perspective, namely it “serves as starting-point for the sub-
ject’s cognition” (WWV1 23). By this, Schopenhauer means to indicate that
the human body is the necessary condition for any and all representational
knowledge since representations necessarily derive from a bodily sensation,
i.e., various changes in constitution and sensitivity are the starting point of
all sensible intuition and apperception. The body is a vital mediator for all
representational knowledge for two related reasons: (1) any representation
necessarily depends on the causal interaction between the body and a dif-
ferent body; (2) any representation depends on the sensibility of the body
to register these causal interactions. Rather than fixing the possibility for
representations in the transcendental subject as the transcendental unity of
apperception, Schopenhauer’s account of cognition is more naturalistic in
the sense that representational cognition derives from a bodily sensation.
Human representational cognition thus has its source in the awareness of
the world in the function of our bodily needs and sensitivities: human beings
register the world in the way the body is sensitive to this world. The most
important tool of the body for understanding the world is the principle of
sufficient reason, i.e., the body registers objects in time and space while
causally interacting with the body and other bodies. Representations are
thus enlisted in a subjective and naturalist goal: to register reality in a way
helpful to the designs and sensitivities of the body.
The natural form of representational, bodily cognition is something ger-
mane to all forms of animal and non-animal organic life, even though only
animal being can bring these representations to abstract consciousness. While
inorganic life is not dissimilarly constituted as other forms of life, it lacks the
necessary sensibility to be able to register the causal interactions it experi-
ences. For instance, a rock can undergo causal changes, but remains sensibly
unaware that these changes occur. The very ability to have representational
cognition depends upon the capacity to cognitively register various changes
in the causal constitution of the object. Such sensibility is germane to animal
and non-animal organic life in varying degrees. For instance, a flower will
not simply undergo causal interactions, but will also register these interac-
tions as painful/unproductive or pleasurable/productive; animals, especially
higher animals, are able to extend this sensibility to self-consciousness and
can turn these causal interaction into abstract representations. Important to
bear in mind is that these three levels of existence are purely quantitatively
distinguished in Schopenhauer’s philosophy, which means that animal life
has developed a more sophisticated form of sensibility than merely organic
beings, who in turn have developed a more complex way to interact with
the world than inorganic beings. Because of these more sophisticated forms
of sensitivity, organic and animal life become receptive to different forms
of causation, namely stimuli (for organic and animal life) and motives (for
animal life). There is a direct relationship between the sophistication of the
body’s sensitivity and its receptivity to more complex forms of causation;
however, these different forms of causation are nevertheless equally gov-
erned by the same sense of strict determinism. This means that causes, stim-
uli and motives may be distinguished in the way they work, but not in their
effect (see chapter three). By being receptive to different forms of causation,
the human being also becomes more vulnerable to different forms of dissat-
isfaction (see chapter four).
Schopenhauer owes perhaps a great debt—for the most part unrecognized—
to Spinoza for his naturalistic understanding of inorganic, organic and
animal life. In his Prize Essay on the Basis of Morals, Schopenhauer would
very approvingly cite Spinoza’s view that “in direct opposition to the two
substances of Descartes, he made it his main principle that ‘thinking sub-
stance and extended substance are one and the same substance, compre-
hended now through one attribute, now through the other’ ” (BGE 152).
Nevertheless, Schopenhauer does not consider further Spinoza’s views of
naturalism. Schopenhauer’s reluctance to engage further (or even praise)
Spinoza might be caused by Spinoza’s influential views regarding animal
ethics: Spinoza argued that animals do not deserve particular ethical con-
sideration. Schopenhauer believed, however, that a natural consequence of
naturalism is that human beings deserve no higher status than other forms
of animal life. Many years after Spinoza, Jeremy Bentham would allow for
a different view on animal ethics that shifted the criteria for being a morally
relevant creature from rational cognition to bodily sensitivity. This is an
inference Spinoza should have made, but did not make—at least according
to Schopenhauer. When considering the ethical status of animals, Bentham
provocatively asked the question, in an oft-quoted line somewhere in a foot-
note, “can they suffer?”34 The criterion for moral relevance is no longer
rationality, but bodily sensitivity. Given Schopenhauer’s well-known love for
animals (at many times exceeding his tolerance for human beings), Schopen-
hauer’s reluctance to offer praise to Spinoza then becomes more transparent
(BGE 237–246). Schopenhauer was genuinely horrified by one of Spinoza’s
favorite pastimes, namely to catch flies and cruelly trap them in spider webs
to be devoured by the spiders.35
Schopenhauer would gladly include animals in his ethics, something that he
found that Kant had done only indirectly at best. In his Anthropology, Kant
would unequivocally exclude the possibility for animals to have a moral dignity:
The fact that the human being can have the representation “I” raises
him infinitely above all the other beings on earth. By this he is a person
[. . .] that is, a being altogether different in rank and dignity from things,
such as irrational animals, with which one may deal and dispose at one’s
discretion.
(Anth 127)
Schopenhauer was rather malcontent with the way Kant elevated humanity
over mere animality, namely by means of a ‘special dignity’: “The concept of
dignity seems to me to apply only ironically to a creature as sinful in will-
ing, as limited in intellect, and as vulnerable and frail in body as the human
being” (PP2 215). In Schopenhauer’s philosophy, there is nothing that elevates
human beings over animals (certainly not rationality). Kant would, however,
in some of his Lectures on Ethics, indirectly incorporate animals in his ethics:
If a man shoots his dog because the animal is no longer capable of ser-
vice, he does not fail in his duty to the dog, for the dog cannot judge,
but his act is inhuman and damages in himself that humanity which it
is his duty to show towards mankind. If he is not to stifle his human
feelings, he must practice kindness towards animals, for he who is cruel
to animals becomes hard also in his dealings with men.
(AA 27:459)36
It is unlikely that Schopenhauer was familiar with these lectures. But even if
he was, he would likely object to the indirectness of Kant’s views of animal
ethics. The animal is treated well because otherwise this could interfere with
the moral character of human beings.
The reason that philosophers prior to Schopenhauer have removed ani-
mals from direct moral consideration was often justified by the lack of
understanding in animals. But Schopenhauer will not even accept this point
of view. In his mind, some form of cognition is to be fully extended to “all
animals, even the most imperfect” (WWV1 24). All animals have some level
of ‘understanding’ of reality, even if this understanding never builds up to
abstract consciousness. Moreover, Schopenhauer does not think that the
basis of morality lies in matters of abstract cognition or judgment, but in
the capacity to feel suffering and compassion. This is not something that
uniquely belongs to human beings. Schopenhauer might have become aware
of this because of his frequent positive interaction with dogs, specifically the
succession of poodles with which he lived in Frankfurt.37 This means that
Schopenhauer extends the reach of understanding beyond the human animal
towards animal life in general: human beings might have developed a more
sophisticated form of understanding; animals have something similar. He
does warn not to “[attribute] to understanding what is really a manifestation
of instinct” (WWV1 28). Schopenhauer obviously does not deny that human
beings have developed a higher form of cognition, and some human beings
have excess intellect over other members of their species. Nevertheless, this
first naturalistic assumption lays a path for a different way to understand
epistemology and, later on, ethics.
2.2 The In Itself of the Body

The body is the seat of sensibility, which means that it is the ground of all
representational knowledge and serves as the unique mediator between the
world and cognition. So, even insofar as the body is a representation, it
holds a special place among other representational object, as without it there
would be no world as representation that could be intuited. In intuiting the
in itself of the world, the body will be even more vital. Kant has famously
asserted that no speculative knowledge can apply to the thing in itself, since
this is beyond possible experience; at most, practical reason can suggest a
variety of practical postulates that positively determine the in itself without
thereby divulging anything speculatively. Schopenhauer explores whether
or not there is a different pathway, one not explored by Kant, by which
one can determine the in itself. His argument in this regard proceeds as fol-
lows: first, he establishes the failure of all previous attempts by philosophy,
mathematics and natural science to determine the in itself; second, he looks
for a possible form of cognition that is not dependent on the principle of
sufficient reason; third, the immediate knowledge human agents have of
their body fulfills this criterion; fourth, Schopenhauer suggests that, because
this knowledge is independent of the principle of sufficient reason, it must
be of the in itself; finally, the available knowledge of the in itself of the body
allows for an extension that transposes this awareness to the in itself as such.
In other words, Schopenhauer assumes that what he experiences to be his
own essence is identical to the essence of the whole of reality in itself. The
present section expounds and critical assesses the first four steps—the final
step will be dealt with below (chapter three).
Schopenhauer’s inquiry in book one of WWV1 was almost uniquely
limited to representations in their general (representations as such) and
abstract (concepts) form. Nevertheless, he is “particularly interested in dis-
covering the true meaning of intuitive representation” (WWV1 113). So as
to uncover this ‘true meaning’ or ‘inner essence’ of things, Schopenhauer
turns respectively to philosophy, mathematics and natural science. In his
view, these three fail to provide such information because their very nature is
dependent (or has been dependent until Schopenhauer’s work) on the princi-
ple of sufficient reason, which is valid only for representations and not the in
itself. Accordingly, Schopenhauer is following a similar path as Descartes in
his Meditations since he first invalidates all previous approaches as mistaken
with regard to their most basic assumptions so as to start afterwards from
the ground up.38
First, philosophy is “a many-headed monster [ein Ungeheuer mit vielen
Köpfen] with each head speaking a different language” (WWV1 113). Phi-
losophy investigates the nature and properties of an alleged object or subject
that would ground and cause all intuition. Idealistic philosophy (radical/
subjective/absolute) posits that the subject is the ground of any object, and
realistic philosophy believes that objects exist separately from the subject. By
arguing as such about an object-subject distinction, they not only fail to see
how the representation is a merging of object and subject, but also blatantly
miss the vital and radical distinction between the representation and the in
itself. In other words, they fail to recognize that representational logic does
not apply to the in itself of reality by applying reasoning in accordance with
the principle of sufficient reason to the side of the in itself. Schopenhauer
believes that Kant has clearly and cogently argued that representational logic
is solely valid for the representation and that the in itself requires a different
logic (or no logic at all). Second, mathematics does not fare any better in pro-
viding knowledge of the in itself of reality because it succumbs to the same
paradigmatic error as ‘dogmatic philosophy’ (idealism or realism). In other
words, Schopenhauer does not subscribe to the point of view that reality is
in itself mathematically ordered (Galileo) or to the idea that mathematics
can provide clear and distinct knowledge of the formal nature of the in
itself (Descartes). In Schopenhauer’s view, mathematics solely engages with
formal quantity and is therefore not sensitive to the qualitative difference
between the in itself and the representation. Third, with regard to natural
science, Schopenhauer argues that “the information we are looking for does
not belong to aetiology any more than it belongs to morphology” (WWV1
115). Aetiology (sciences investigating change) and morphology (sciences
investigating form) respectively depend on the principle of causality and the
principle of individuation. These are, again, dependent upon the principle

of sufficient reason. In other words, science merely deals with the effects of
the ‘life force’ (Lebenskraft) behind the causally related appearances, but
the “force that is itself expressed [. . .] will remain an eternal mystery to it”
(WWV1 116).
Schopenhauer does not subscribe to the mode of investigation germane to
(dogmatic) philosophy, mathematics or natural science. Does this mean that
Schopenhauer, like Kant, argues that the in itself must remain speculatively
unknown and is best approached using moral faith? Schopenhauer does
not subscribe to Kant’s epistemological agnosticism either and wants “to
know the meaning of those representations: we ask if this world is noth-
ing more than representation; in which case it would have to pass over
us like an insubstantial dream or a ghostly phantasm” (WWV1 118). The
only substantial and workable criterion to distinguish dream for reality is,
as discussed above, ‘waking up’ or ‘piercing through the veil of Maya’, but
this could appear impossible either because of certain epistemological lim-
itations of human nature or the simple fact that the dream is all that there
is (subjective/absolute idealism). Schopenhauer’s argument for the merely
relative validity of the principle of sufficient reason is warranted only if he
can decisively show that there is in fact an in itself to reality and that this
in itself can be accessed in one way or another. As such, he must argue that
there is some form of epistemological access to the in itself by emphasizing
that the difference between the in itself and representation is merely rep-
resentational (and therefore illusory), thereby providing a more monistic,
naturalistic account of reality.
This naturalistic point of view is substantiated by investigating the pecu-
liar awareness human agents have of their body. Schopenhauer assumes that
the body is what ‘roots the individual in the world’ and thus immediately
connects the individual to the in itself. By having such an immediate link to
the in itself, there opens a hidden pathway to positively characterize the in
itself. To move beyond the world of appearances would be certainly impos-
sible if the “enquirer himself were nothing more than a pure subject of cog-
nition (a winged cherub’s head without a body). But he is rooted in this
world and finds himself in it as an individual” (WWV1 118). This body is,
according to Schopenhauer, given in a twofold capacity, namely as, on the
one hand, a representation intuited by the understanding and, on the other
hand, something immediately familiar to the human agent.39 This immediate
awareness provides enquirers with the intimate acknowledgment that the in
itself of their own body is will.
Schopenhauer is accordingly emphasizing the complete ontological and
non-representational epistemological identity of the will and the body: the
will is “a priori cognition of the body, the body is a posteriori cognition of
the will” or “the body is the objecthood [Objektität] of the will” (WWV1
120). Schopenhauer provides a number of arguments for this identification
of the will to the body. First, any causal effect on the body is immediately
experienced as an effect on the will—similarly as any movement of the will

coincides with immediate movement of the body. The body experiences pain
when this affection is contrary to the will and pleasure when this affec-
tion is in agreement with the will. Second, the vital functions of the body
are inflicted by any and all aggressive movements of the will—to which
Schopenhauer more elaborately returns in On the Will in Nature. Third,
the will cannot be cognized without at the same time cognizing the body,
or the will is known through bodily movements. This in turn explains why
human agents have only fragmented knowledge of their will, since this is
always based on the specific affections and movements of the body. In sum,
the body is for Schopenhauer a mediator for a form of non-representational
knowledge, namely that the human agent’s inner essence is ‘will’. While this
knowledge is mediated (through the ‘immediate object’ of the body), it is
non-representational since it is independent of the principle of sufficient
reason.
The non-representational knowledge one has of the will is not knowledge
of a ‘thing’. A ‘thing’ would be a spatio-temporal object that can be causality
implicated with other objects. But while the body is ‘not a thing’, this does
not imply that the body is ‘nothing’. In fact, the essence of the body is not
its ‘thingness’ but its agency. The in itself of reality does not hold objects
(which was a mistake Kant allegedly made), only agency. Again, Schopen-
hauer argument runs somewhat parallel to the early Schelling’s argument.
In his System of Transcendental Idealism, Schelling notes that through intro-
spection we regard our self-consciousness not as a thing, but not as nothing
either: “Seen in its true light, the dilemma thus amounts to this: everything
is either a thing or nothing; which can straightaway be seen to be false, since
there is assuredly a higher concept than that of a thing, namely the concept
of doing, or activity”.40 Similarly, Schopenhauer would find that ‘will’ is not
an object but neither is it a nothing: it is pure activity. And when one looks
inside, both Schelling and Schopenhauer did not find a stable ‘Ego’ but only
pure activity that constantly manifests objects but is not an object itself.
What remains obscure, however, is how Schopenhauer makes the tran-
sition from, on the one hand, having a type of knowledge that is largely
independent of the principle of sufficient reason to, on the other hand, claim-
ing that the information contained in that bit of knowledge is of the in
itself? Schopenhauer’s argument can be charitably read here as making the
uncontroversial assumption that, while the intellect or brain subjectively
transforms reality, our body is a part of reality as such. But that body is
subjectively represented by the subject as having a certain form, which must
mean that the body in itself must lack such form. And, indeed, the imme-
diate cognition we have of our own bodies does not reveal anything about
form, organs, space, matter, but only urge, desire and drive. Schopenhauer’s
argument would be misread if he was alleged to hold the view that because
we have cognition independent of the principle of sufficient reason, this
cognition is of the in itself. Rather, Schopenhauer claims that we have a
special cognition of an object that is obviously a part of the world in itself.

In fact, all objects are part of the world in itself, but we can achieve only
non-representational cognition of our own bodies.
2.3 The Consistency of Schopenhauer’s Identification

of the In Itself with Will
By emphasizing this form of knowledge of the in itself (albeit derivative),
Schopenhauer appears to be, at least according to many traditional commen-
tators, countering Kant’s critical limitation of speculative reason. As is well
known, Kant famously asserted that the in itself remains ‘an x, an unknown’
because it is beyond possible experience (since experience is always medi-
ated by subjective consciousness). Kant’s speculative agnosticism did not sit
well with his contemporaries and even before Kant’s death, many attempts
were made to rise beyond this defeatism. Near the end of his life, Kant
expressed serious worries about taking recourse to immediate awareness or
feeling to provide knowledge of the in itself. In a contribution to the Ber-
liner Monatschrift entitled On a Recently Prominent Tone of Superiority in
Philosophy (1796), Kant cynically laments the then recent tendency of phi-
losophers to assign greater value to ‘feeling’ over ‘concepts’. This essay seems
similar to his open letter at the address of Fichte (1799). These complaints
seem to apply equally to Schopenhauer’s analysis of the in itself, even though
Kant was obviously unaware of these:
Away with ratiocination [Vernünftelei] from concepts, which attempts the

task only by the roundabout [Umschweif ] method of general attributes,
and which, before it yet has a matter which it can grasp immediately,
first demands specific forms to which it may subject this matter! And
given also that reason can offer no further explanation whatever about
the legitimacy of the outcome of these its high insights, there remains
nevertheless a fact: ‘Philosophy has its secrets that can be felt.’
(AA 8.395)
Kant, obviously, laments this evolution since it introduces “a certain mystical

touch, an overleap (salto mortale) from concepts to the unthinkable” (AA
8.398). What is even more staggering is that Schopenhauer joins Kant in his
derision of this trend and derides those philosophers that seek ‘little windows’
to peer through to the in itself (FR 123). This makes Schopenhauer’s identi-
fication of the in itself with will seem very awkward. The consensus among
the earliest commentators and reviewers of Schopenhauer’s philosophy, such
as Karl Michelet, Christfried Thilo, Eduard von Hartmann and Johannes
Volkelt, was that Schopenhauer was returning to rationalist dogmatics and
undoes Kant’s critique of speculative of metaphysics. The very first to make
this point was Friedrich Beneke in his not so favorable review of WWV1.41
Throughout the second part of the 20th century, scholars became unsatisfied
with this somewhat coarse assumption and, in 1973, Arthur Hübscher made
a few important early strides in emphasizing that these early commentators
miss the genuine novelty of Schopenhauer’s approach to metaphysics, which
is no longer based upon propositional logic.42 After this seminal argument,
authors have begun reading Schopenhauer’s ‘metaphysical’ ambitions more
charitably.
Largely depending on one’s definition of speculative metaphysics, Schopen-
hauer’s identification of the in itself of the world with will can turn out
to be consistent with his epistemological premises or not. Schopenhauer
himself defines metaphysics as “all supposed cognizance that goes beyond
the possibility of experience, and so beyond nature or things in their given
phenomenon, in order to inform us as to how, in one or another sense, they
are conditioned” (WWV2 180). Metaphysics, in other words, justifies the
‘conditioned phenomenon’ by means of an ‘unconditioned absolute’. This
broad understanding of metaphysics already hints that Schopenhauer’s own
philosophy does not fit all too well with what is traditionally thought of
as metaphysics. First, the ‘will’ that is the ground of all representation does
not exist separately from representations, but rather as its ‘inner essence’.
By this, Schopenhauer suggests a slightly paradoxical ontological monism
after heralding Kant’s epistemological distinction between in itself and rep-
resentation as the most important innovation in philosophy ever. As will be
clarified further below (chapter three), Schopenhauer will move towards a
strong sense of epistemological dualism as well as an equally strong sense
of metaphysical monism. Second, cognition of the will does not have the
same clarity and intelligibility as, for instance, cognition of a chair or a
table. In WWV2,43 Schopenhauer points out how his philosophy relates
to Kant’s philosophy in the sense that the “incognizability of the thing in
itself is modified to the extent of saying that [it] is not absolutely and fun-
damentally cognizable” (WWV2 221). Schopenhauer thus moves beyond
Kant by pointing out that a different type of cognition, i.e., cognition of a
non-representational nature, can make human agents aware of the in itself.
Schopenhauer probably felt that Kant in his general critique of dogmatic
and speculative metaphysics was confusing ‘knowing that what is absolute’
with ‘absolute knowing’: we might not have objective insight into the in
itself in the way that we have access to representations, but we do never-
theless have some knowledge. Especially in his works after WWV1, he is
very careful to point out how, through bodily immediate self-intuition, the
in itself has “for the most part cast off its veils”, but still does not emerge
“entirely naked” (WWV2 220); elsewhere, he notes that representational
reality is illuminated by the principle of sufficient reason, but “inside it is
dim, like a well blacked telescope: no a priori principle illuminates the night
of [the human being’s] own interior” (BGE 22); or: “There is a limit to
our reflection’s penetration and to how far it can illuminate the night of
our existence” (WWV2 677). Julian Young has stressed these essential para-
graphs for countering the assumption that Schopenhauer’s philosophical
system would be some form of speculative metaphysics that simply ignores

Kant’s criticism of such metaphysics. Young snidely remarks at the address
of Schopenhauer’s critics: “How could a man who takes such relish in lam-
pooning the idea of ‘rational intuition’, of little ‘windows’ through which
Hegelians peer at the Absolute, entertain seriously, even for a moment, the
idea of ‘subterranean passages’ to the noumenal? Why should a tunnel be
any better than a window?”44
Young develops a rather unique view with regard to Schopenhauer’s
metaphysics. In his view, Schopenhauer would denote by ‘will’ something
between representation and in itself.45 I believe this to be mistaken. Young
reads Schopenhauer’s project as a kind of non-reductive naturalism that
opposes scientific reductionism and idealistic rational intuition both. As I
put it in the section above, Schopenhauer opposes realism/materialism as
well as absolute/subjective idealism. As a consequence, Young argues that
Schopenhauer abandons a traditional dualistic understanding of metaphys-
ics in favor of three-part metaphysics where knowledge of the will through
the body is not strictly speaking knowledge of the in itself, but of a third
entity between the phenomenal and noumenal. Young, as a result, warrants
the consistency of Schopenhauer’s argument by emphasizing that there is no
knowledge of ultimate reality.46 The obvious downside of Young’s analysis is
that he is forced to deny Schopenhauer’s identification of will with the nou-
menon or the in itself, and through this is necessitated to postulate a “third
world, non-noumenal and hence situated within the Kantian boundaries, yet
esoteric and so distinct from the ordinary world”.47
Almost needless to say, this cuts against the grain of how Schopenhauer’s
text is naturally read, but Young’s analysis is backed up by two consider-
ations. First, after Schopenhauer publicly swears his allegiance to Kantian
idealism, it stands to reason that he would at the same time endorse the
view that the “self in itself is just as inaccessible to human experience as
the object-in-itself”.48 As such, Schopenhauer would be at odds with Kant
if he believed that we could experience the in itself through ourselves. Sec-
ond, if Schopenhauer employs some sense of intellectual intuition to arrive
at cognition of the in itself, his philosophical position would approximate
Fichte’s, someone to whom Schopenhauer swears no fealty. In the end, how-
ever, Young’s suggestion to include a ‘third’ realm that is relevantly implied
in Schopenhauer’s comprehensive philosophy has little to no textual support
and moreover blatantly contradicts most of the monistic and naturalistic
tendencies of Schopenhauer’s philosophy. In fact, Young’s suggestion is not
so much a return to dogmatic metaphysics, but a radically new position that
nervously conflicts with Occam’s razor, since he suggests, not two, but three
worlds that are philosophically necessary for metaphysics and epistemology.
According to Nicoletta De Cian and Marco Segala, Young’s argumenta-
tion (and similar ones) arises because their progenitors confine themselves to
English translations of Schopenhauer, and accordingly approach his system
as ‘Englished’ (as if he were an Oxford or Cambridge professor writing
today). In their view, the spirit of Schopenhauer’s text divulges that ‘will’ is
an abstract term for something that is concretely and immediately known
and therefore is best interpreted metaphorically: as mentioned above, ‘will’
is not a thing.49 According to them, Schopenhauer does in fact identify
the in itself with will, but this project is nevertheless a coherent “Kantian
metaphysics within the boundaries established by Kant’s Prolegomena”.50
In fact, Schopenhauer rather solemnly states the following: “Thus I accept
[Kant’s] Prolegomena to any metaphysics as valid and applicable to my
own” (WWV2 204). If one accepts at face value that, on the one hand,
Schopenhauer really does identify the will with the in itself and, on the other
hand, unequivocally subscribes to transcendental idealism, there appears
little recourse than to pronounce Schopenhauer’s metaphysics painfully
self-contradictory. Schopenhauer himself would not look kindly upon this
charge of inconsistency since he will, often when implicitly responding to
criticism, increasingly insist that his system is philosophically and logically
sound. Still, very influential authors emphasize that Schopenhauer’s identi-
fication is, in one way or the other, a metaphysical statement that cannot
be valid considering Schopenhauer’s epistemology and Kantian heritage.51
Frederik Copleston probably puts this most emphatically as follows: “The
proper conclusion from Schopenhauer’s epistemology, as from that of Kant,
is agnosticism [about the noumenon]: a metaphysic is quite out of place”.52
A more charitable approach to Schopenhauer’s philosophy depends
on taking Schopenhauer’s argumentation at face value, proposed by, for
instance, G. Stephen Neeley.53 First, Neeley states that “Schopenhauer’s
treatment of human agency and resultant determination of thing in itself
as will is remarkably straightforward and that any mystery that remains is
not due to a lack of clarity on Schopenhauer’s part”.54 If all knowledge
is about representations and if we assume that the noumenon is known, it
is known as a representation alone, not in itself. In Neeley’s terms, since the
“noumenon lies beyond the pale of representation”, that “noumenon, if it
were known, is known as a representation, not as a thing in itself”.55 While
apparently close to Young’s suggestion, Neeley argues that Young’s position
suffers from a fatal misconception, namely that it employs representational
logic so as to understand the knowledge of the will, which is, as Schopen-
hauer emphasizes, free from all possible roots of this principle. In the terms
used throughout this monograph, the misconception is that Schopenhauer
would acknowledge only one type of knowledge to exist, where there really
are four types forming on the two times twofold axis (non)presentational
and (im)mediate. Specifically, with regard to knowledge of the in itself
through awareness of the body, the specific type of knowledge here amounts
to realizing that the subject and object of knowledge, or the self as knowing
and the self as willing, come to the realization that they are actually one and
the same. As such, knowledge of the will is exactly the process of willing
itself or, better yet, willing itself is a kind of knowledge that is mediated but
non-representational. Accordingly, the noumenal realm is more willingly felt
than abstractly known. The in itself is ‘known’ via the detour of an object
(the body) that is itself immediately felt to be will.56 Schopenhauer himself
clarifies this method in a later work, which might have come too late:
Since I am myself a Kantian I wish to say a word here to character-

ize my relation to him. Kant teaches that we cannot know anything
beyond experience and its possibility; I concede this but maintain that
experience itself, in its totality, is capable of an explanation, and I have
attempted to provide this by deciphering experience like a written text,
but not, like all previous philosophers, by undertaking to go beyond it
by means of its mere forms, which Kant indeed had demonstrated to be
inadmissible.
(PP1 46)
Neeley’s approach is somewhat similar to a more recent argument by

Sandra Shapshay,57 who claims that
Schopenhauer’s identification of the thing-in-itself with will relies on a

rhetorical device that Schopenhauer calls denominatio a potiori, literally
‘receiving its name from what is better, superior or greater’. Schopen-
hauer tries to get us to widen the extension of the concept ‘will’ which we
know in a more immediate way than anything else beyond the bounds
of possible sensation to the thing-in-itself [. . .].58
Shapshay’s conclusion is that Schopenhauer “metonymically [identifies] the

thing-in-itself with will”.59 The difference with Neeley’s argument is that the
Shapshay believes that will is an ‘incremental metaphor’: “The subject which
the metaphor identifies and describes can only be identified and described
by means of a metaphor”.60 The in itself is beyond the reach of meaningful
language (since we lack ‘perceptual verifiability’); therefore, it can only be
described using a metaphor. The danger of using ‘will’ as a metaphor for the
in itself is that we might be carried beyond the distinction (meta-pherein)
to such an extent that the constitutive difference between will as we nor-
mally experience and the in itself is easily obscured. Shapshay’s metonymical
approach then has the benefit of leaving open a constitutive area of ambigu-
ity, where the metonym refers not to its own identity but deliberately points
beyond itself. Schopenhauer clearly does not mean ‘will’ in the common
usage of the term, so it cannot be a metaphor for the in itself. But Schopen-
hauer remains adamant about his chosen term, so he does want to relate the
in itself to some aspect of willing, namely an aspect that is happily ignored
by his idealist contemporaries (see chapter three).
Sebastian Gardner adds something of interest to this discussion by
pointing out that Schopenhauer actually takes a standpoint beyond mere
representational logic, without first investigating whether or not such a
standpoint is at all possible.61 In his early Notebooks, Schopenhauer reflects
on the epistemological and metaphysical pitfalls of post-Kantian idealism

and attacks these positions in a way similar to how Kant invalidated dog-
matic philosophy. In other words, like Kant took a revolutionary new point
of departure (the ‘Copernican Revolution’), Schopenhauer similarly takes
a different point of departure than his idealistic contemporaries: specifi-
cally, he takes up the idea that the principle of sufficient reason cannot be
extended beyond representation. In fact, he took this as the true meaning
of Kant’s transcendental idealism, a meaning missed by most if not all of
his contemporaries. Schopenhauer’s metaphysics of will is then a necessary
correlate and the grounding assumption of his philosophical system because
what is beyond representations must necessarily be totally unrestrained by
the principle of sufficient reason.
Schopenhauer’s identification of the in itself of reality with will is not
based upon representational logic. Kant’s limitation of speculative meta-
physics implies that one cannot attain knowledge of the in itself of reality
by means of cognition that necessarily subjects intuitions to certain a priori
concepts. Schopenhauer has not argued against that point, but has, on the
contrary, emphasized this time and again. Accordingly, the kind of knowl-
edge Schopenhauer has of the in itself of reality is of a different kind than
representational logic. Schopenhauer does not object to Kant’s limitation of
speculative metaphysics; rather, he objects to Kant’s reduction of all types of
theoretical cognition to representational. When Kant does attempt to move
beyond representational knowledge, such as in ‘the fact of reason’, he will
remain trapped in representational logic. The fact of reason reveals the nou-
menal freedom of the human will, but such freedom is, for Schopenhauer, yet
another form of necessary determination (see chapter four). Schopenhauer’s
conclusion will ultimately be even more daunting than expressed here, since
he will describe the in itself of all things as will. This metaphysical leap will
be further scrutinized below in chapter three.
Section 3: Immediate Representational Knowledge

A type of knowledge that is characterized at the same time as ‘representa-
tional’ in nature but apprehended ‘immediately’ might seem, once again, hope-
lessly self-contradictory: how could knowledge based upon representations be
unmediated if the former means that it is based to some extent upon represen-
tational logic? In the above section, the focus was on the non-representational,
immediate knowledge or awareness of the will through the immediate object
of the body. While this body is an immediate object (or the immediate object-
hood of the will), the acquired knowledge still depends on sensing the body
using the form of time. For a bit of knowledge to be immediately apprehended
would imply the total lack of reference to the body’s sensitivity. To put the
issue more succinctly: immediate representational knowledge is immediately
felt in the confrontation with certain representations, without those repre-
sentations themselves interacting with the body; or an object is apprehended
without the influence of a subjectively constituted body.

Schopenhauer believes that this kind of knowledge is provided in aesthet-
ical experiences. This general framework also applies to how certain reli-
gious symbols and practices can have redemptive potential. Postponing this
discussion for the time being (chapter five), the focus in the present section
will be on how exposing oneself to art or beauty in nature can occasion the
transfer of representational, immediate knowledge. Aesthetic experiences
always depend in some way on a representational object, whether they be
engendered through pieces of art (e.g., stone for a sculpture, a canvas for a
painting, and soundwaves for music) or through the experience of beauty
or the sublime in nature. We will put off the investigation of the potential
soteriological function of such a piece of art for now (chapter six) and at
this point attempt to clarify three issues: (1) Aesthetic experience is mainly
about knowledge that (2) is immediately apprehended but (3) yet based
upon representations.
3.1 How Is Aesthetic Experience Related to Knowledge?

For a very long time, the standard approach to aesthetic experience was
univocally cognitive in that such experiences primarily convey some form
of cognition. In the 18th century, there arose a highly influential move-
ment within aesthetics—mostly hailing from the British Isle (Shaftesbury,
Hutcheson, Addison, Burke)—that related the experience of art more to the
free and disinterested play of the sensible faculties rather than to the cogni-
tive faculty. The influential nature of his innovation is shown by the fact that
most German philosophers of the late 18th and early 19th century felt obli-
gated to find a consensus between a purely cognitive and purely expressivist
theory of art. A cognitive theory of art suggests that art is a human practice
that is primarily supposed to convey certain ideas and, only secondarily,
elicits a certain emotional response; an expressivist theory of art suggests
that art is the non-rational expression of certain typically human faculties.
By suggesting that art provides a unique type of cognition, Schopenhauer’s
aesthetics has the appearance of ignoring the 18th-century innovations in
philosophy of art (and Kant’s masterful synthesis of the new approach with
the traditional one) and therefore is reaching back univocally to the cogni-
tive representation of reality. Some scholars claim as such that Schopenhauer
did not take sufficiently serious the new developments in aesthetics.62 As I
will show, this claims misses the innovations of Schopenhauer’s multifaceted
approach to knowledge, which makes clear how he has a far more nuanced
understanding of artistic experience.63 Experiencing nature can engender an
experience of aesthetics. This is less common because aesthetic experience is
helped along by the genius artist who already goes some distance in dislodg-
ing his inspiration (which often is a natural object) from its representational
foundation. To elicit aesthetic experience, nature and art ought to convey a
bit of knowledge. In these sections, the focus will be on aesthetic experience
engendered by art (but the same applies to nature).

At present, it might be helpful to place these discussions in a broader
historical perspective. The traditional theory of art suggests that art’s main
function is to be an as faithful copy of existing objects as possible. Plato’s
theory of art, for instance, argues that art is, like philosophy, supposed to
be the imitation of (ultimate) reality, but since art, according to Plato at
least, imitates only temporal reality, “it is far removed from the truth, for
it touches only a small part of each thing and a part that is itself only an
image”.64 In discussions of Plato’s aesthetics, most attention is usually paid
to his epistemological arguments against art, his attacks on poets, but also to
the oddity that the Platonic dialogues are very artful in themselves. As such,
Plato’s controversial definition of art is not always discussed; indeed, Plato is
highly skeptical about the epistemological and metaphysical promise of art,
but his general idea that art should be a representation of (highest) reality
remained for the most part uncontested for almost two millennia.
But a cognitive theory of art is not necessarily dismissive of art! A more
favorable take on such a theory was developed in the Christian world after
the counsel of Nicaea II (787). At this important juncture, Christian theo-
logians came to realize that even though Exodus 20: 4–5 bans all images,
the production of images could somehow be justified because Jesus himself
was an image, namely the image of God. Paramount to this undertaking
was the development of certain normative criteria that could distinguish art
as a true representation of ultimate reality from merely profane art. Among
these criteria, the most important one was undoubtedly the divine inspira-
tion of the artist.65 Renaissance philosophy continued this train of thought
in its emphasis on the creative zeal of the artist as inspired by God to rep-
resent idealized reality (see particularly the aesthetics of Michelangelo and
Ficino). In German philosophy, however, there reigned a long and determi-
nate silence about aesthetics until Baumgarten published his Aesthetica who,
himself inspired by Wolff and Leibniz, systematically established the quint-
essential cognitive theory of art where art played a very specific function in
his metaphysical system.
Throughout the 18th century, this cognitive theory of art was challenged
by a different theory that, rather than focusing on the aesthetical as cogni-
tive, argues that art was the free and disinterested play of certain human
capacities. For these philosophers predominantly hailing from the British Isle
(Hutcheson, Burke, Shaftesbury, Addison), the creation of art is not mimicry
or copying of objects, but the free exercise of human abilities. While the per-
ception of art might convey some knowledge, the first and foremost purpose
of perceiving art is to arouse certain emotions and feelings. By opposing
the traditional theory of art, this new expressivist theory provided a new
impetus to reflections in aesthetics. Central to these newfound debates was
the following question: How to develop the particular normative criteria to
discern good from bad art? Some namely felt that to define art as the free
play of the faculties would relegate it to mere self-expression and as such
forfeit any way to tell apart good from bad art.

In response to the abovementioned worries, Kant proceeded to synthesize
the traditional theory of art as cognitive with this new theory of art as the
free play of the faculties. In his view, the judgment of taste is a disinterested
and universal judgment, which relates to the mere form of purposiveness
that necessarily arouses pleasure. As such, beauty is not some abstract con-
cept that we apply to a certain sensation, but the disinterested agreeableness
of the sensation. In other words, there is no prior concept of the beautiful
to which we test or apply sensations, but the beautiful is the disinterested
agreeableness itself. Kant continues to distinguish between two potential
purposes of art. The purpose of ‘agreeable art’ is “enjoyment” (KU 305); the
purpose of fine art “is a way of presenting that is purposive on its own and
that furthers, even though without a purpose, the culture of our mental pow-
ers to facilitate social communication” (KU 305). To put things differently,
the distinction between agreeable and fine art (resonating of the distinction
between profane and inspired art) is that the former stops short as the enjoy-
able experiences while the latter cultivates the predisposition of humanity in
the spectators. Because fine art is a universal communication that resonates
with any human being, it can serve as a symbol of morality (KU 353).66
Kant’s aesthetics was highly influential (and contested) among the Roman-
tics, but Schopenhauer proved to be, together with Schelling, the most
influential theorist of art (at least among artists) in the post-Kantian and
post-Hegelian scene. Some scholars, however, lament that Schopenhauer’s
philosophy of art is an unfortunate step in the wrong direction after Kant,
namely a step back towards a purely cognitive theory of art that simply
ignores the new innovations in aesthetics. For instance, Paul Guyer argues
that Schopenhauer
has disrupted Kant’s delicate synthesis of the ancient idea of aesthetic

experience as a form of knowledge and the novel idea of aesthetic expe-
rience as the free play of our mental powers and turned it back into the
traditional theory of aesthetic experience as a heightened form of cogni-
tion alone, although his account of the cognition in aesthetic experience
naturally reflects the innovations in his account of cognition itself.67
It is dangerously misleading univocally to call Schopenhauer’s aesthetic the-

ory a ‘step back’ after Kant, mostly because Guyer does not seem to take
into account the unique and innovative nature of Schopenhauer’s fourfold
sense of cognition. For one, Schopenhauer pays extensive attention to the
genesis of art in the artful zeal of the genius artist. But, more importantly, art
is not the mere mimicry of (idealized) reality, but a creative process wherein
the importance of the creative imagination of the artist is on a par with
the inspiration received from observing reality. Admittedly, Schopenhauer’s
style of writing tends to overemphasize certain aspects of his theories, often
to the detriment of a comprehensive understanding of his philosophy. For
instance, in the following paragraph Schopenhauer emphatically argues that

art cannot be simply the copying of external reality:
Wax figures make no aesthetic impression and therefore are no art-

works (in the aesthetic sense), even though well-made they produce a
hundred times the deception of the best picture or statue, and therefore
would have to take first place if deceptive imitation of the real were the
purpose of art.
(PP2 449–450)
But in another paragraph, Schopenhauer emphasizes the artist’s dire need

for worldly inspiration: “By itself alone, genius can no more have original
ideas than a woman by herself can have children; but the external occasion
must also appear as the father, so to speak, in order to render genius fruitful
so that it may give birth to something” (PP2 77n). While there is undoubt-
edly a Kantian pedigree here as well, Schopenhauer might in this instance
be more of the spirit of Goethe, who advocated a symbolic approach to
aesthetics. According to the latter, the work of art is a symbol for an inner
reality that houses in everyday reality but remains hidden to most eyes.68
A Goethe-inspired reading of Schopenhauer’s aesthetics would accordingly
grant credibility to the view that Schopenhauer tried to provide a theory
of art that eschewed sheer expressivism (Burke), but would accept the new
points of view of Burke, Kant and Goethe by linking art to both the activity
(imagination) and receptivity (intuition) of the genius.
Before we are able to attend fully to this discussion, it is important to
go into some detail regarding the central objects of Schopenhauer’s theory
of art, namely the Platonic Ideas. These ideas are a rather awkward and
confounding aspect of his philosophy. Schopenhauer defines them as the
tools of the will by which it manifests representational reality. At no point
does he discuss their relationship to the principle of sufficient reason or
the principium individuationis (are these Platonic ideas themselves?), and
Schopenhauer would not return extensively to these ideas in his post-WWV1
publications. Some might think that he was embarrassed about the whole
theory. To make sense of them, one could interpret them either epistemologi-
cally or metaphysically. An epistemological interpretation would runs as fol-
lows. Human beings have the cognitive ability to form abstract knowledge
of representations. By subsuming a multiplicity of various representations
under the heading of a single concept (Begriff), they are enabled to come
to a more comprehensive understanding of representational reality. Some
of these concepts can be further understood through even higher concepts.
Schopenhauer could have thought that, if this process of abstraction is car-
ried through as far as possible, the highest (and therefore also most basic)
concepts are the Platonic Ideas, which can be abstracted no further. While
never really providing a full list, Schopenhauer seems to suggest that natural
forces, inorganic being, organic being and animal being are the foremost
Platonic ideas. While such an epistemological reading seems initially plau-

sible (but also dangerously close to Hegelian philosophy), this process of
abstraction is principally incapable of truly reaching the Platonic Ideas. In
fact, Schopenhauer would believe that such a procedure simply explores the
“shell of nature”, while art and philosophy proper speak of the “core of
nature” (WWV2 198).69 If the Platonic ideas are an epistemological inter-
mediary between abstract concepts and the thing in itself, they would be,
to some extent at least, expressed by means of the principle of sufficient
reason. Indeed, the process of abstraction is overseen by the four roots of the
principle of sufficient reason. And while Schopenhauer does accept that the
Platonic ideas are multiple, he equally emphasizes at length that, to arrive at
the Platonic Ideas, one must abandon normal, representational awareness in
aesthetic experience (WWV1 209–213). As such, dialectical, philosophical
reason does not appear to be the way towards the Platonic ideas.
A more promising approach to the Platonic ideas is not bottom-up, but
top-down. From this vein of thought, the Platonic ideas would be the time-
less archetypes by which the will manifests itself, which can be known
only through a special faculty of artistic intuition. Such a metaphysical
reading of the Platonic ideas blends more smoothly with, on the one hand,
Schopenhauer’s definition of the Platonic ideas and, on the other hand, his
arguments against rational-dialectical inference. The Platonic ideas are then
not the abstraction of certain concepts and neither can they become known
through abstraction. By this strategy, Schopenhauer must forfeit all poten-
tial insight into the why and how the will manifests itself in accordance with
the Platonic ideas (because they are beyond the reach of representational
logic). This invalidates a fairly common complaint against Schopenhauer’s
doctrine of the Platonic Ideas. This complaint suggests that the Platonic
Ideas introduce an inflexibility to the in itself that nervously conflicts with
the dynamism of the will. According to the complaint, Schopenhauer can-
not satisfyingly answer the question: Why are there Platonic ideas? But
this is just Schopenhauer’s point! There is no way of explaining or justify-
ing the fact that the will manifests in accordance with the Platonic ideas.
It just does, and things could have been very different. This argument is
proof of a striking difference between Schopenhauer and the German ide-
alists. Very generally, the German idealists believed that everyday reality is
something that needs to be clarified and explained, but not something that
does any explaining; for Schopenhauer, empirical reality is the very basis of
philosophical explanations. Given the way empirical reality is constituted,
Schopenhauer arrived at the theory that reality has to be the manifestation
of the will in accordance with certain timeless archetypes. To attempt to
inquire into why this occurs blatantly misses the dynamic of Schopenhau-
er’s philosophy.70
Even though the Ideas are best approached metaphysically, and not epis-
temologically, they do serve a quasi-epistemological purpose, namely that
knowledge of the Platonic Ideas serves as immediate knowledge based
upon representations. As in his epistemology and speculative philosophy,

Schopenhauer believes that he pierces through certain superstitions and
minor demerits of Kant’s philosophy (but Plato’s as well) in order to display
their essential insights. Schopenhauer uses turns of phrases such as: “What
Kant said was essentially the following [. . .]” (WWV1 201); or: “[Plato’s
and Kant’s] doctrines have the same inner sense” (WWV1 202); or: “If peo-
ple since Kant really understood and grasped Plato, if they had faithfully and
earnestly reflected on the inner sense and content of the doctrines of these
great masters” (WWV1 204). What Schopenhauer recycles from Kant is that
the representations are radically different from the in itself (since represen-
tational logic has no validity beyond representations) and he recycles from
Plato is that there are certain archetypes that are used to objectify (i.e., turn
into an object) the in itself. Schopenhauer believes, in line with Plato, that
these archetypes can be known, but he is at odds with Plato about the man-
ner by which these are known. Plato believed namely that only philosophical,
dialectical knowledge can work to acquaint the human agent with the ideas;
Schopenhauer, to the contrary, suggests that proper art can acquaint human
agents with these archetypes. But art is not the theoretical knowledge that
Kant felt to be inappropriate to pierce beyond the representational realm!
Schopenhauer is then introducing a very specific sense of ‘being intimated
with something’ as a means beyond the metaphysical agnosticism of Kant’s
critique of speculative philosophy. In a nutshell, the genius artist is inspired
by the Platonic Ideas shimmering through representational reality to create
a piece of art that creates the possibility of communicating this insight to
common people. As with Kant, Schopenhauer believes that art is a means
beyond solipsism and a universal language that allows for communication.
This establishes certain normative criteria for proper art in Schopenhauer’s
philosophy, namely that art ought to strive for the most perfect objectifica-
tion (i.e., turning into an object) of the Platonic Idea. Schopenhauer argues
that art can propagate a unique type of knowledge about in itself of real-
ity even though this bit of knowledge is still removed from intuitive and
non-representational, immediate knowledge.
In closing, it might be helpful to offer a few more reflections on the
systematic importance of the Platonic ideas in Schopenhauer’s philosophy.
This importance has certainly been up for debate. Since the introduction of
the Ideas seems to be rather sudden and unexpected at the end of book II,
numerous authors take these to be an inessential aspect of Schopenhauer’s
philosophy. Bryan Magee argues that “[the Platonic Ideas] were introduced
ad hoc at this point and then got out of hand”, and moreover “[he is]
not convinced that the Platonic Ideas [. . .] are necessary to Schopenhau-
er’s philosophy at all”.71 David Hamlyn similarly holds that Schopenhauer
introduced the Platonic Ideas to “say something about the relation of the
will as thing-in-itself to phenomena [. . .] The whole attempt is in fact
incoherent”.72 Michael Fox is probably the most outspoken on this subject
when he argues that “the Platonic Ideas would surely be the first casualty
of Occam’s Razor, were it applied with any vigour at all to Schopenhauer’s

system”.73 The fact that Schopenhauer does not comprehensively return to
the Platonic ideas—while he refines most of his other philosophy—in his
later works does provide some fuel for this point of view. But Schopenhauer
never removed the Platonic ideas from later editions of WWV1, and neither
did he ever take back any of his praise of Plato (while the praise of Schelling
disappeared).
The point could consequently be made that there is something deeply
Platonic about Schopenhauer’s philosophy, which was seminally remarked
by Christopher Janaway: “The underlying pattern of Schopenhauer’s phi-
losophy should be viewed as Platonic”.74 This might also explain Schopen-
hauer’s incessant praise of Plato’s philosophy—e.g., “The divine Plato”
(WWV1 xii)—while Kant is at times criticized, although usually not without
a lengthy laudatio preceding it. Bart Vandenabeele and William Desmond
hold that Schopenhauer’s use of Platonic Ideas is surely Platonic, although
mediated through his confrontation with Kant.75 G. S. Neeley finally defends
Schopenhauer’s decision to introduce the Platonic Ideas as a pivotal part
of Schopenhauer’s attempt to ‘complete the scientific image of the world’:
since science cannot go beyond the representational realm (as bound by the
principle of sufficient reason), the Platonic Ideas fill these gaps. The Platonic
Ideas are then an attempt to “enucleate and interpret the will’s mode of
objectification in various phenomena”76—as outlined above, this approach
is somewhat problematic.
The Platonic ideas might appear ad hoc in Schopenhauer’s philosophy
as a whole, the general trajectory of Schopenhauer’s philosophy might be a
Platonic critique of Kant. Schopenhauer is vexed by the speculative agnos-
ticism in Kant’s philosophy and investigates various ways to escape this
pitfall. He does so because he is convinced that human beings have profound
knowledge of the in itself of reality that is not governed by the principle
of sufficient reason. A first means to convey such knowledge is the human
body; a second means is art as the sensible reproduction of ultimate reality.
But ultimate reality itself is analogous to my own inner essence: as such, the
intuitive expression of my own inner essence does not differ substantially
from the reproduction of ultimate reality. All reality is ultimately will. Artists
manifest this unity by creating a piece of art to which spectators can relate,
or: by means of which he can realize that reality ultimately is bigger than
their own individuation. Art has the ability to transport us beyond ourselves
towards something transcending our individual condition. This is why many
artists feel that art is a more universal language than any mode of speaking:
something is conveyed to which everyone can relate. Schopenhauer used the
notion of the Platonic Ideas to convey that very intuition: there are timeless,
objective archetypes which art depicts that transfer humanity beyond its
solipsism.
But is this all that removed from Kant’s point of view? Schopenhauer did
intensively study Kant’s Third Critique and gathered something very import-
ant. For Kant, the judgment of taste is completely disinterested: “All inter-
est ruins a judgment of taste and deprives it of its impartiality” (KU 223);
additionally, aesthetic sensation is uniform to rational agents: “This pleasure
must of necessity rest on the same conditions in everyone, because they are
subjective conditions for the possibility of cognition as such” (KU 292).
Aesthetic sensation is, for Kant as well, a non-propositional, universal lan-
guage of which we have no prior concept, but which resonates with human
beings universally. If there is a danger of solipsism in Kant, it is powerfully
disarmed by his aesthetics. Schopenhauer merely gave a Platonic flavor and
metaphysical backing to this Kantian argument.
3.2 How Is Art Immediate Knowledge?

Artful cognition is, on the one hand, immediate because it does not depend
on a normal sense of sensibility (we do not experience music the same way
we experience noise) but, on the other hand, representational because it usu-
ally depends on a representation, i.e., the piece of art (commoner) or nature
(genius). Even the genius has to be inspired, but his inspiration can come
from something that is at more of a distance from the Idea. This means that
artful contemplation is a kind of perception where the normal mode of cog-
nition does not model the way by which this knowledge is experienced. This
means that knowledge of the Platonic ideas is of a radically different nature
than normal mediate, representational knowledge. By being independent of
normal human sensitivity, aesthetic knowledge is a kind of objective knowl-
edge (knowledge of an object-in-itself), while normal or natural cognition
is based upon subjective, representational logic, which relates the object to
a subject.
Normal cognition is thus a synthesis of an object and a subject. The imme-
diate knowledge of the body eliminates the ‘object’ from this synthesis; the
immediate knowledge of the object of art eliminates the ‘subject’ from this
synthesis. In other words, human agents feel, on the one hand, only them-
selves when experiencing their body (and no object) and, on the other hand,
only the object in artful contemplation (without a subjective input). These
forms of cognition are not the ‘normal’ or ‘natural’ way of perceiving real-
ity since human agents normally relate all objects back to their will in the
representation. Schopenhauer emphatically points out how artful contem-
plation is of a totally different kind than normal ways of relating the world;
“the Ideas lie entirely outside the cognitive sphere of the subject as such”
(WWV1 200) and remain inaccessible without a radical change from the
‘normal’ mode of perception. Immediate knowledge foregoes entirely from
the type of cognition that any individualized member of a certain species
possesses, i.e., a form of cognition ruled by and subordinated to the prin-
ciple of sufficient reason. In Schopenhauer’s words, the human agent must
introduce an “alteration in the subject that corresponds to and is analogous
with that radical change in the whole nature of the object” (WWV1 207). By
dropping the subjective aspect of representational knowledge (so as to have

‘pure objectivity’), the subject no longer relates the experience (aesthetic or
not) back to the particular will, which seeks only to sustain itself. By relating
to the object in a selfish way, the human agent will never know objects as
they are in themselves. Accordingly, it is this very drive to self-preservation,
individuality and subjectivity that should be left behind in order to have
pure, objective knowledge. Art can facilitate such cognition since good art is
of such a nature that the particular agent is able to ‘lose himself’ in beholding
(and creating) a piece of art. To have then a form of immediate knowledge,
the self as the seat of all mediation needs to be annulled. Cognition becomes
ex-static (outside of position), subject-less, objective and mind-independent.
Obviously, we do not actually lose our bodies when in aesthetic experience.
The body simply does not have a constitutive role to play in apprehending
the Platonic Ideas. Schopenhauer is rather optimistic that such a represen-
tation of pure objectivity is “possible—although only in exceptional [aus-
nähmliche] cases” (WWV1 209).77 This experience of pure objectivity is
described as a
transition [that] occurs suddenly when cognition tears itself free from
the service of the will so that the subject ceases to be merely individual
and now becomes the pure, will-less subject of cognition [. . .] becoming
absorbed in a steady contemplation of the object presented, aside from
its inter-connections with any other object.
(WWV1 209)
Philosophy and theology have had a plurality of names for such ways of
beholding reality, e.g., ecstasy, mysticism, objectivity, visio sub specie aeter-
natis, pure, . . . Schopenhauer has a tendency to use these interchangeably,
although he at times dislikes the religious connotation of the terms ecstasy
and mysticism (PP2 10–12; however, WWV2 699–700). His preferred tech-
nical term for this is ‘cognition of pure objectivity’, since the subjective input
of the individual is nullified: “When the Idea emerges, subject and object can
no longer be distinguished within it because the Idea, the adequate object-
hood of the will, the genuine world of representation, arises only to the
extent that subject and object reciprocally fill and completely permeate each
other” (WWV1 212).
3.3 How Is Art Still Representational?
The knowledge attained through perceiving a piece of art is objective and
immediate. However, this knowledge is not yet the kind of abstract, objec-
tive philosophical knowledge that will allow for a sense of sustained solace
from suffering. In other words, aesthetical knowledge remains representa-
tional for two important reasons.
A first reason why artistic knowledge is representational is because it is
dependent upon an object (a piece of art or nature), which necessarily has

some form of material, and therefore representational, origin. The value of
the form of art is, according to Schopenhauer, dependent on its relative inde-
pendence from such a material origin. There is, in other words, an inverse
relationship between the materiality of the piece of art and its potential-
ity to convey knowledge of the Ideas. Accordingly, the following forms of
art convey knowledge of the Ideas in ascending order: architecture (§ 43),
landscape gardening (§ 44), historical painting and sculpture (§ 45), nudes
and rhetorical art (§ 47), allegorical art (§ 50), poetry (§ 50–51), tragedy
(§ 51) and finally music78 (§ 52). While knowledge of the Platonic Ideas
always strives to forego from the principle of sufficient reason, the object
that arouses this knowledge is still a representation. Even the genius benefits
greatly by some representation to have an aesthetical experience (do note
that the claim at PP2 77n, cited above, is stronger):
An artist’s inner mental strength can achieve this much entirely on its
own: but the purely objective frame of mind can be facilitated and pro-
moted from the outside by the right sorts of objects, by the richness
of beautiful nature that invites intuition of them, and indeed does so
insistently.
(WWV1 232)
This does, however, not mean that artists are guided by materiality when
creating a piece of art as their main impetus is pure objective imagination.
No amount of empirical observation, however, would acquaint the artist
with the Idea of beauty: “The genius produces the work of visual art only
through a prescient anticipation of beauty, he produces poetic works only
through the same sort of anticipation of the characteristic” (WWV1 263).
A second reason why artistic knowledge is representational is that the
Platonic Ideas are still based upon some form of multiplicity because the
Ideas themselves—although unifying different objects—are diverse. There-
fore, there is still some form of the principle of sufficient reason implied in
this, and ultimate, absolute oneness is only possible given cognition of the
will in itself (this will return below).
Continuing upon the previously mentioned debates surrounding the Pla-
tonic Ideas, similar issues arise with regard to Schopenhauer’s philosophy of
art generally. To illustrate, G. S. Neeley notes no less than eight charges leveled
against Schopenhauer’s theory of art and Platonic Ideas. Two of these merit
specific attention at this point, namely the relationship between freedom of
the will and aesthetic contemplation, and the relationship between Ideas, the
phenomena and the noumenon.79 First, Schopenhauer categorically denies
that human beings are free in any way (see chapter three). Nevertheless, he
argues that in exceptional moments of aesthetic contemplation, liberation
from bondage to the will can be attained: “He is the pure, will-less, painless,
timeless subject of cognition” (WWV1 210–211). Some commentators claim
that such freedom is principally inconsistent with Schopenhauer’s insistence

upon the rigorous determinism of all manifestations of the will.80 Such alle-
gations are repeatedly made because the arguments of book one and two
seemingly conflict with book three and four of WWV1. The reader has two
options. First, Schopenhauer’s determinism could be true and then neither
philosophy nor art is able to provide solace. Second, Schopenhauer’s soteri-
ology could be true and then naturalistic determinism does not fully apply to
human beings. The paradox with regard to artful liberation can be resolved
by clarifying what Schopenhauer exactly means by this kind of liberation.
This liberation is not actively and purposively aspired by the spectator: if
the spectator would have a subjective interest in mind when approaching a
piece of art, this would stand in the way of the experience of pure objectivity.
Instead, the spectator is passively liberated through aesthetical contempla-
tion that manages to work as a momentary narcotic on the will.81 While
any self-activating behavior will consistently remain caught in the web of
causal determination, the very ground of this causal determination can be
eliminated through experiences of pure objectivity. Accordingly, aesthetic
liberation is fully consistent with the laws of causality since here a force
from the outside, not belonging to human nature, temporarily silences the
will. As will become more clear below, the necessity of an exterior force (and
the temporary nature of the solace) will be the central reason why aesthetic
liberation is less stable than philosophical liberation (chapter seven).
A second issue concerns the exact locus of the Ideas as a difficult to pin-
point intermediate between experience and the will. As such, numerous
commentators have questioned Schopenhauer’s philosophical judgment in
including these in his philosophical system. To these commentators, the Pla-
tonic ideas appear to be epistemologically irrelevant and introduce a form
of inflexibility to Schopenhauer’s otherwise naturalistic account of real-
ity. Additionally, numerous commentators ponder why the will, if it is as
groundless and irrational as Schopenhauer claims, would manifest itself as
Ideas? I have addressed this complaint above, but it can be helpful to briefly
return to this. In my view, this complaint misses the novelty of Schopenhau-
er’s approach: Schopenhauer’s will is not subject to the strictures of rational-
ity. The manifestations of Schopenhauer’s will are in no way similar to the
self-realization of Hegel’s ‘Absolute Spirit’: there does not have to be a rea-
son why the will does what it does. The laws of motivation are a root of the
principle of sufficient reason that have no validity beyond representations.
Schopenhauer’s philosophy is merely describing reality without providing a
rational apology for the structure reality takes. Reality could perfectly well
have been without Platonic Ideas but this just happens to have not been the
case. Some might question Schopenhauer further and argue as following:
the will just does not seem like the sort of thing that would manifest as
Ideas. The Ideas are stable; the will is not. The Ideas are peaceful; the will is
not.82 A voracious, eternally self-expressing will does not seem consonant
with narcotizing, stable ideas. Simply saying ‘this is the way reality seems to
be’ does not seem to be a very satisfying response. But that is just the point:
reality does not owe us a convincing response, much like it is loath to give
us satisfaction (chapter four).
In conclusion, Schopenhauer is to a large extent acclaimed as a philos-
opher of art—or better as a philosopher celebrating the achievements of
artists. While art definitely holds vital importance in Schopenhauer’s philos-
ophy, it would be a far stretch to assume that art is the core of Schopenhau-
er’s philosophy. Art perennially remains an intermediate: between slavery to
empirical causality and true ascetic liberation. Accordingly, art is enlisted in
a grander scheme where it does not stand as an end in itself, but as a means
to a higher end:
The pleasure of all beautiful things, the consolation that art affords,
the enthusiasm that allows the artist to forget the difficulties of life [die
Mühen des Lebens vergessen lässt], [. . .] all of this is due to the fact that
[. . .] the in itself of life, the will, existence itself, is a constant suffering,
partly miserable, partly horrible.
(WWV1 315)
In light of the present discussion of Schopenhauer’s epistemology, it is help-

ful to note that ‘immediate representational knowledge’ is a stop on the road
to ‘immediate non-representational knowledge’: while only a few will reach
the end, the highest knowledge a human agent can obtain is philosophy, not
art. The genius that creates art is the ‘pure subject of cognition’, yet neverthe-
less remains a ‘subject’ finding himself at times distanced from the ‘object’:
the highest, philosophical knowledge will overcomes even this final hurdle.
Section 4: Immediate Non-Representational Knowledge

Immediate knowledge is unmediated through subjective consciousness, which
means that it is independent from the body’s sensibility; non-representational
knowledge is independent from representations, which means that it lacks
what is normally called a material object. From this it results that immediate
non-representational knowledge is independent from material objects and
the body both. This is then the intuitive, abstract and unmediated insight
into the essence of reality and the principle of individuation. Such knowledge
supersedes knowledge of the Platonic Ideas since this latter remains based
upon multitude (the Platonic Ideas are many) and a material substance (the
piece of art). While Schopenhauer does not quite phrase it as such, imme-
diate non-representational knowledge takes the best of metaphysical and
aesthetical knowledge: metaphysical knowledge is non-representational and
aesthetical knowledge is immediate. Whenever then the combined insights
of these types of knowledge reach beyond the merely ‘abstract’ towards the
‘intuitive’, they potentially exert a narcotizing effect on the will to life. Such
knowledge is the apotheosis of Schopenhauer’s philosophy. This section will
be confined to discussing the particular nature—not the content that will be

dealt with in chapter three—of this type of knowledge.
According to Schopenhauer, the most comprehensive perspective on real-
ity is attained in intuitive insight which entirely
divorces itself from the whole tendency to view things according to the
principle of sufficient reason, and focuses on what remains, namely the
essence of the world that always stays the same, appearing in all rela-
tions itself but never subject to them, the Ideas themselves.
(WWV1 323)
Whenever the human agent no longer relates as a self to an object, i.e., self-
less perception, then that object might appear in a purity that divulges its
true essence. A select few human beings have developed such a high level of
intuition that enables them to move beyond such aesthetical perception by
no longer requiring a representation or material object to intuit the essence
of things. In other words, the highest philosophical knowledge does not take
its cues from an empirical investigation of reality, but takes the insights that
have been gained through the limited forms of non-representational (my
body as will) and immediate (the Ideas as timeless archetypes) cognition to
facilitate a more comprehensive account of the in itself of reality. Schopen-
hauer builds his ultimate metaphysical conception of reality by formatting
such a comprehensive account of the in itself in a purely abstract, philosoph-
ical sense. When Schopenhauer has experienced his own in itself (via the
body) as will, it stands to reason that the inner essence of all or reality is will.
In other words, the in itself of reality is considered to be analogous to my
own in itself, the essence of my body as will. From the aesthetical perspec-
tive, Schopenhauer takes it that even the Platonic Ideas share in a common
essence (and their multiplicity is also an illusion), namely as will or ‘will to
life’.83 All things that are representationally distinguishable ultimately return
to one fundamental element, i.e., a “blind and inexorable impulse, devoid of
cognition” (WWV1 323).
Such a quaint form of knowledge nervously flirts with the critical bound-
aries put on speculative knowledge by Kant. Kant famously set out to “deny
knowledge in order to make room for faith” (B xxx). By ‘faith’, Kant means
rational or moral faith, i.e., a reasonable opinion to which rational agents
are drawn by means of the a priori necessity of the moral law. Some read
this to mean that some sort of ‘internal feeling’ grants a road to areas barred
from strict knowledge (e.g., Jacobi). Schopenhauer follows this tack in a
way but rejoins Kant’s emphasis on the moral nature of this internal feel-
ing by pointing out how this non-representational, immediate knowledge
has striking ethical repercussions. Schopenhauer’s ethics will be scrutinized
in more detail below (chapter four). Suffice it to say for now that while
his ethics only describes and not prescribes (WWV1 319–320; 336), there
obviously is some preference of the denial of the will (Willensverneinung)
over the affirmation of the will. The denial of the will to life is namely based
upon the most comprehensible information about reality and is as such the
better informed course of action. However, Schopenhauer did not find that
at essence reality (is postulated to be) a rational whole or even a histori-
cal progress of reasonable self-development. For Schopenhauer, the truth
of being is grim, namely representational reality is a deterministic whole of
causal necessity in which the human being is pushed and pulled from lack
to satisfaction to boredom to new desire:
Life poses itself primarily as a task, namely that of preserving it, of

making a living. Once this is solved, then the gain becomes a burden
and the second task arises of how to deal with our living, specifically to
ward off the boredom that falls upon every secure life in the manner of
a lurking bird of prey. Thus the first task is to gain something, and the
second is to numb ourselves against it once we have gained it, since it is
a burden otherwise.
(PP2 304–305)
This is the case because all of representational reality goes back to a blind,
naturalistic, all-pervading will. This will is at odds with everything, even
itself. By absorbing such metaphysical knowledge, there does open up the
possibility for a different way of dealing with reality through ethics, religion,
aesthetics and ascetics. Before turning to this investigation, the exact content
of Schopenhauer’s metaphysics will be discussed.
Notes
1. See, for instance: David Cartwright, ‘Schopenhauer’s Narrower Sense of Morality’.
In: The Cambridge Companion to Schopenhauer. Edited by Christopher Janaway
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), p. 254; Christopher Janaway,
‘Will and Nature’. In: The Cambridge Companion to Schopenhauer. Edited by
Christopher Janaway (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), p. 139.
2. For a very interesting account of Kant’s influence on Novalis’s Romanticism: Jane
Kneller, Kant and the Power of Imagination (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2007).
3. Barbara Hannan, The Riddle of the World: A Reconsideration of Schopenhauer’s
Philosophy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), p. 15.
4. Friedrich Nietzsche, Untimely Meditations (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1983), pp. 133–134.
5. Iulii Eichenwald, ‘A Note on Schopenhauer’. In: Schopenhauer: New Essays in
Honor of His 200th Birthday. Edited by Eric von der Luft (Lewiston: Edwin
Mellen Press, 1988), p. 139.
6. G. Stephen Neeley, Schopenhauer: A Consistent Reading (New York: Edwin
Mellen Press, 2003).
7. David Hamlyn, Schopenhauer (London: Routledge, 1980), pp. 44–63.
8. Schopenhauer was never really impeded by humility or self-doubt in his phil-
osophical exploits, except maybe on one occasion. When he submitted his
doctoral dissertation to the University of Jena, Schopenhauer was uncharacteris-
tically humble when requesting the dean of the philosophy faculty to advise him
“if they found anything unclear, rambling, untrue or even offensive” and he even
believed it unwise to “rely on one’s own judgment” when it comes to matters of
philosophy (David Cartwright and Edward Erdmann, ‘Introduction’. In: On the
Fourfold Root of the Principle of Sufficient Reason and Other Writings. Edited
by David Cartwright, Edward Erdmann and Christopher Janaway (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2012), p. xiii).
9. The effects of Schopenhauer’s tendency to micromanagement also applied to the
very publication of WWV1. Schopenhauer was intermingled with a lengthy and
gradually unnerving bargain with his publisher Friedrich Arnold Brockhaus on
the specifics of the publication of WWV1. In a letter, he wrote that “my work
is a new philosophical system; new, however, in the full sense of the term and
not a new presentation of the already at hand, but a series of thoughts cohering
together in the highest degree that up to now had never come into any human
head” (Quoted in: David Cartwright, Schopenhauer: A Biography (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2010), p. 285). For his readership to come to a full
appreciation of his work, Schopenhauer laid down very specific instructions
such as its publication date (29 September 1818), single volume, high-quality
paper, 800 copies, wide margins and preferably a publication location of Jena
or Merseberg. While Brockhaus was initially sympathetic to Schopenhauer’s
demands, Schopenhauer’s constant writing and overly controlling demeanor
slowly replaced sympathy with annoyance and later even disdain. When
Schopenhauer approached Brockhaus’s sons for a second edition of the work
ten years later, they informed him that 150 of the original 750 copies were still
in their possession, even after selling an impressive number as scrap (Ibid.,
pp. 286–288). When Schopenhauer approached Brockhaus’s sons in 1850 to
publish his Parerga and Paralipomena, they naturally refused. Ironically, this
book would win Schopenhauer the praise and recognition he had yearned for
all these years.
10. In an attempt to remedy some of this oversight, two recent bundles engage
Schopenhauer’s Wissenschaftslehre largely from the perspective of Fourfold
Root: Schopenhauers Wissenschaftstheorie: der Satz vom Grund. Edited by Dieter
Birnbacher (Würzburg: Königshausen und Neumann, 2015); Schopenhauer’s
Fourfold Root. Edited by Jonathan Head and Dennis Vanden Auweele (New
York: Routledge, 2017).
11. This argument is made in full in my paper: ‘A Most Beloved Piece of Nonsense:
The Ontological Argument and Metaphysics’. In: New Essays on Schopenhauer’s
Fourfold Root. Edited by Jonathan Head and Dennis Vanden Auweele (New
York: Routledge, 2017), pp. 99–112.
12. F. C. White, ‘The Fourfold Root’. In: The Cambridge Companion to Schopenhauer.
Edited by Christopher Janaway (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999),
p. 64.
13. While Schopenhauer never deleted the comment that On Vision and Colors was
vital to properly understanding his philosophical project, he became increasingly
ambivalent with regard to the relationship between it and the rest his oeuvre.
Cartwright and Erdmann report that Schopenhauer told one of his students,
Ernst Otto Lindner, that On Vision and Colors was not “required reading” and
Schopenhauer moreover excluded the essay from the plan of a collected edition of
his work (Cartwright and Erdmann, 2012, p. xliii). Nevertheless, Schopenhauer
kept defending the work even after his adulation of Goethe had waned. He was
especially perturbed when he discovered that the work had been plagiarized by
one Anton Rosas (WN 14–15; cf. USF 30). Schopenhauer’s relationship with
Goethe was nothing alike to Nietzsche’s adulation of Richard Wagner. Despite
the fact that Schopenhauer briefly enjoyed the mentorship of Goethe and set out
to defend his philosophy, Schopenhauer became critical of Goethe early on and

arguably only associated with him for personal gain.
14. Galileo Galilei, The Assayer. Translated by Drake Stillman (Philadelphia: University
of Pennsylvania Press, 1960), pp. 237–238.
15. “Der junge Schopenhauer hat sich mir als einen merkwürdigen und interes-
santen Mann dargestellt. [. . .] ist mit einem gewissen scharfsinnigen Eigensinn
beschäftigt ein Paroli und Sixleva in das Kartenspiel unserer neuen Philosophie
zu bringen. Man muß abwarten, ob ihn die Herren vom Metier in ihrer Gilde
passiren lassen; ich finde ihn geistreich und das Übrige lasse ich dahin gestellt”
(Robert Steiger, Goethes Leben von Tag zu Tag. Band V: 1807–1813 (Zürich and
München: Artemis Verlag, 1988), p. 756; my translation).
16. Lucy Allais, Manifest Reality: Kant’s Idealism and His Realism (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2015); Rae Langton, Kantian Humility: Our Ignorance of
Things in Themselves (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998).
17. Christopher Ryan, Schopenhauer’s Philosophy of Religion (Leuven: Peeters
Publishing, 2010), pp. 105–106.
18. For this argument: Dennis Vanden Auweele, ‘The Pietist Premise of Kant’s
Postulation of God’. In: Jahrbuch fur Religionsphilosophie 12 (2013) 162–188.
19. Kant’s prose was similarly attacked by Heinrich Heine: “Perhaps Kant needed
an even more carefully deliberate language for his carefully deliberate mode
of thought, and he was incapable of creating a better one. Only genius finds a
new word for the new thought. But Immanuel Kant was no genius” (Heinrich
Heine, On the History of Religion and Philosophy in Germany: And Other
Writings. Edited by Terry Pinkard and translated by Howard Pollack-Milgate
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), p. 81.
20. In the first edition of Fourfold Root, Schopenhauer did not identify ‘willing’
with ‘acting’. In fact, he wrote that “acting is not willing, but the effect of willing
when it becomes causal”. In the second and later editions, Schopenhauer consis-
tently distances himself from Kant’s view of causality—by among others chang-
ing the terms ‘transcendental’ to ‘metaphysical’ (cf. Cartwright and Erdmann,
2012, pp. xxviii–xxix).
21. F.W.J. Schelling, System of Transcendental Idealism. Translated by Peter Heath
(Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1978), p. 8.
22. Immanuel Kant, Gesammelte Schriften. Edited by Bd. 1–22 Preussische Akademie
der Wissenschaften, Bd. 23 Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin, ab
Bd. 24 Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen (Berlin: Verlag Walter de
Gruyter, 1900 ff), band 12, p. 257–258—my translation.
23. Cf. “The real side must be something toto genere different from the world as rep-
resentation, namely, that which things are in themselves; and it is this complete
diversity of the ideal and the real that Kant has most thoroughly demonstrated”
(WWV2 216). Similar issues as the one I make here have been raised by White,
1999, pp. 85–88; Julian Young, Schopenhauer (London: Routledge Publishing,
2005), pp. 17–32; Sandra Shapshay, ‘Did Schopenhauer Neglect the “Neglected
Alternative” Objection?’ In: Archiv für Geschichte der Philosophie 93 (2011)
321–348.
24. Friedrich Adolf Trendelenburg was the first to raise the issue of NA in Kant’s
philosophy in discussion with Kuno Fischer (Friedrich Trendelenburg, Kuno
Fischer und sein Kant (Leipzig: Hirzel Verlag, 1869). Despite Fischer’s objections,
Trendelenburg held that Kant considered and refuted NA. Most commentators
have found Kant’s treatment of this issue lacking and propose other resolutions:
Paul Guyer, Kant and the Claims of Knowledge (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1987), pp. 363 ff.; Jill Buroker, Space and Incongruence: The Origin of
Kant’s Idealism (Dordrecht: Kluwer, 1981), pp. 100 ff.; Lorne Falkenstein, ‘Kant’s
Argument for the Non-Spatiotemporality of Things in Themselves’. In: Kant-
Studien 80 (1989) 265–283; Desmond Hogan, ‘Three Kinds of Rationalism

and the Non-Spatiality of Things in Themselves’. In: Journal of the History of
Philosophy 47 (2009) 49–63.
25. Schopenhauer makes numerous references to Lamarck, most of which are in
later works or added in later editions (WN: SW 4.43–45, 52; WWV2: SW 3.141,
193). When he read On the Origin of Species by Charles Darwin, he confided in
a letter to Julius Frauenstädt that he found the work to be “shallow empiricism”
and a mere variation on Lamarck. Moreover, he emphasized that Darwin was in
no way related to his philosophical theories (Cartwright, 2010, pp. 466n–467n).
26. For full discussion of these arguments: Douglas McDermid, ‘Schopenhauer
and Transcendental Idealism’. In: A Companion to Schopenhauer. Edited by
B. Vandenabeele (Wiley-Blackwell, Oxford, 2012), pp. 73–79.
27. Shapshay, 2011, p. 337.
28. Barbara Hannan, The Riddle of the World: A Reconsideration of Schopenhauer’s
Philosophy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), p. 11.
29. Bryan Magee, The Philosophy of Arthur Schopenhauer (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1983), pp. 73–104; Bart Vandenabeele, De bloesem van het leven. Esthetiek
en ethiek in Arthur Schopenhauers filosofie (Leuven: Universitaire Pers Leuven,
2001), pp. 21 ff.
30. Schopenhauer elaborates, admittedly, in Fourfold Root on different forms of
truth all relating to the principle of sufficient reason of knowing, namely formal
truth (§ 30), empirical truth (§ 31), transcendental truth (§ 32) and metalog-
ical truth (§33). This distinction is, however, fairly unhelpful with regard to
the two-twofold axis I have developed to discuss knowledge in Schopenhauer’s
philosophy.
31. For a similar argument: Vandenabeele, 2001, pp. 22–24.
32. This homogeneity is being threatened, according to Schopenhauer, by “a degen-
eracy that is gaining ground [einem einreissenden Verderb]” (WWV2 133),
namely the increasing tendency of scientists to replace the then standard Latin
terminology with equivalents in their own language. Schopenhauer laments the
German technical terms, which are “almost universally long, cobbled-together,
clumsily chosen, cumbersome, hollow-sounding words, not sharply distin-
guished from the rest of the language and thus hard to impress upon one’s mem-
ory” (WWV2 134). According to Schopenhauer, the linguistic difficulties that
accompany having to learn five times as many technical terms will seriously
impede the advance and unity of the empirical sciences (see: PP2 517–519).
33. E.g.: “The depths of the human heart are unfathomable [unergründlich]. Who
knows himself well enough to say, when he feels the incentive to fulfill his duty,
whether it proceeds entirely from the representation of the law or whether
there are not many other sensible impulses contributing to it that look to one’s
advantage (or to avoiding what is detrimental) and that, in other circumstances,
could just as well serve vice?“ (MS 447) or in Religion as: “Assurance of this
[making moral progress] cannot of course be attained by the human being nat-
urally, neither via immediate consciousness nor via the evidence of the life he
has hitherto led, for the depths of his own heart (the subjective first ground of
his maxims) are to him inscrutable” (RGV 51); “Indeed, even a human being’s
inner experience of himself does not allow him so to fathom the depths of his
heart as to be able to attain, through self-observation, an entirely reliable cog-
nition of the basis of the maxims which he professes, and of their purity and
stability” (RGV 63).
34. Jeremy Bentham, The Principles of Morals and Legislation (New York: Hafner
Press, 1973), p. 311n.
35. For discussion: David Berman, ‘Spinoza’s Spiders, Schopenhauer’s Dogs’. In:
Philosophical Studies 29 (1982) 202–209.
36. Translation taken from Immanuel Kant: Lectures on Ethics. Translated by Louis
Infield (London: Routledge, 1980), p. 240.

37. After he moved from Berlin to Frankfurt in 1831, Schopenhauer lived for twenty-
seven years in the sole companionship of a succession of poodles, always offi-
cially named Atman, but on informal occasions called Butz. Schopenhauer glee-
fully notes that these animals’ “cleverness [Klugheit], and sometimes again the
stupidity have astonished me” (PP2 87)—he misanthropically adds “it has been
no different for me in dealing with the human race” (Ibid.). In fact, atman is a
reference to the Sanskrit word for ‘true self’: the self as ultimately a lack of indi-
vidual self (an-atman) and the mystical unity with Brahma. This seems to suggest
that Schopenhauer felt deep attachment to his animals.
38. Cf. Robert Wicks, Schopenhauer (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2008), pp. 53 ff.
39. Schopenhauer’s recourse to a sense of immediate familiarity with the in itself
of reality (through the body) reminds of Jacobi’s argument, undoubtedly well
known to Schopenhauer, that the existence of God has a similar self-evidence as
that of sensuous intuitions (for an overview: Louis Dupré, The Enlightenment &
the Intellectual Foundations of Modern Culture (New Haven: Yale University
Press, 2004), pp. 304–311.). Schopenhauer turned Jacobi’s self-certainty of the
existence of God through immediate familiarity around and argued that we
are only self-certain of the urges of our own body—the will being the closest
Schopenhauer has of an absolute.
40. Schelling, 1978, p. 32.
41. This review is reprinted in the Jahrbuch of the Schopenhauer-Gesellschaft of
1917: pp. 149–158.
42. Arthur Hübscher, The Philosophy of Schopenhauer in its Intellectual Context:
Thinker against the Tide (Mellen: Lampeter, 1989), pp. 380 ff.
43. This shift in emphasis should not be read as a shift in position. Moira Nicholls
to the contrary defends that Schopenhauer underwent three ‘shifts’ in his philo-
sophical system, namely on the knowability of the thing in itself (which is less-
ened in WWV2), the nature of the thing in itself (more ‘naturalistic’ in WWV2)
and a progressive assimilation of and identification with Eastern Wisdom (Moira
Nicholls, ‘The Influences of Eastern Thought on Schopenhauer’s Doctrine of
the Thing-in itself’. In: The Cambridge Companion to Schopenhauer. Edited
by Christopher Janaway (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999),
pp. 171–212.). Since Schopenhauer repeatedly states that he simply continues on
his “train of thought” (WWV1 XIX); that he never finds anything “to retract” or
that changes in new editions “never touch on what is essential” (WWV1 XXI);
that his work conveys but “a single thought” (WWV1 VII); and, that any further
works are but ‘supplements’ to his first manuscript, not many scholars tend to
agree with Nicholls. For one such polemic against Nicholls: Raj Singh, Death,
Contemplation and Schopenhauer (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing, 2007), p. 59.
44. Julian Young, Willing and Unwilling: A Study in the Philosophy of Arthur
Schopenhauer (Boston: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers, 1987), p. 29.
45. See: Ibid., p. 31. A similar suggestion is made by: John Atwell, Schopenhauer
on the Character of the World: The Metaphysics of Will (Berkeley: University
of California Press, 1995), pp. 106–128. I will engage Atwell’s point of view in
more depth in chapter 3.
46. For a highly similar argument: Thomas Dürr, ‘Schopenhauers Grundlegung der
Willensmetaphysik’. In: Schopenhauer-Jahrbuch 84 (2003) 91–119.
47. Young, 1987, pp. 30.
48. Ibid., pp. 29–30.
49. Nicoletta De Cian and Marco Segala, ‘What Is Will?’ In: Schopenhauer-Jahrbuch
83 (2002) 13–42. See also: Frank C. White, On Schopenhauer’s Fourfold Root
of the Principle of Sufficient Reason (Leiden: Brill Publishing, 1992); Janaway,
1999, pp. 163 ff.
50. De Cian and Segala, 2002, p. 41; see also: Paul Guyer, ‘Back to Truth: Knowledge
and Pleasure in the Aesthetics of Schopenhauer’. In: European Journal for

Philosophy 16 (2008) 164–178.
51. Patrick Gardiner, Schopenhauer (Harmondsworth: Penguin Publishing, 1963),
pp. 49–66; Id., ‘The Possibility of Metaphysics’. In: Schopenhauer: His Philosophical
Achievement. Edited by Michael Fox (Sussex: Harvester Publishing, 1980),
pp. 37–49; Magee, 1983, pp. 125–136; Christopher Janaway, Self and World
in Schopenhauer’s Philosophy (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), pp. 192–193;
Frederik Copleston, Arthur Schopenhauer: Philosopher of Pessimism (London:
Oates and Washbourne, 1947), pp. 64–65; David Hamlyn, Schopenhauer (London:
Routledge, 1980), pp. 83–94.
52. Copleston, 1947, p. 65.
53. Neeley, 2003, pp. 1–52.
54. Ibid., p. 1.
55. Ibid., p. 8.
56. Neeley’s approach is highly similar to a more recent, extended version of this argu-
ment professed by Sandra Shapshay, ‘Poetic Intuition and the Bounds of Sense:
Metaphor and Metonymy in Schopenhauer’s Philosophy’. In: European Journal
of Philosophy 16 (2008) 211–229). Shapshay claims that “Schopenhauer’s
identification of the thing-in-itself with will relies on a rhetorical device that
Schopenhauer calls denominatio a potiori, literally ‘receiving its name from what
is better, superior or greater’. Schopenhauer tries to get us to widen the extension
of the concept ‘will’ which we know in a more immediate way than anything
else beyond the bounds of possible sensation to the thing-in-itself [. . .]” (Ibid.,
p. 331). Similarly, Neeley argued that Schopenhauer uses ‘will’ as an incremental
metaphor: “The subject which the metaphor identifies and describes can only
be identified and described by means of a metaphor” (Neeley, 2003, p. 66). The
in itself is beyond the reach of meaningful language (since we lack ‘perceptual
verifiability’), therefore it can only be described using a metaphor. Shapshay then
concludes that Schopenhauer “metonymically [identifies] the thing-in-itself with
will” (Shapshay, 2008, p. 331).
57. Sandra Shapshay, ‘Poetic Intuition and the Bounds of Sense: Metaphor and
Metonymy in Schopenhauer’s Philosophy’. In: European Journal of Philosophy
16 (2008) 211–229).
58. Ibid., p. 331.
59. Ibid.
60. Neeley, 2003, p. 66.
61. Gardner, 2012, pp. 375–401.
62. Paul Guyer, ‘Back to Truth: Knowledge and Pleasure in the Aesthetics of
Schopenhauer’. In: European Journal for Philosophy 16 (2008) 164–178.
63. Since it is by no means the main subject of this monograph, Schopenhauer’s
theory of art cannot be exhaustively developed here. For excellent discussion:
Bart Vandenabeele, The Sublime in Schopenhauer’s Philosophy (New York:
Palgrave Macmillan, 2015); Sandra Shapshay, ‘Schopenhauer’s Aesthetics’.
In: Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/
schopenhauer-aesthetics/; Cheryl Foster,‘Ideas and Imagination: Schopenhauer on
the Proper Foundation of Art’. In: The Cambridge Companion to Schopenhauer.
Edited by Christopher Janaway (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999),
pp. 213–251.
64. Plato, ‘Republic’. In: Plato: Complete Works. Edited by John Cooper and trans-
lated by George Maximilian Antony Grube (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing
Company, 1997), p. 1202 [598b].
65. See: Alain Besançon, The Forbidden Image. Translated by Jane Todd (Chicago:
The University of Chicago Press, 2000), pp. 109–164.
66. For a discussion of Kant’s theory of aesthetic judgment: Paul Guyer, ‘The
Beautiful and the Good: Aesthetics, 1790–1870’. In: The Cambridge History of
Philosophy in the Nineteenth Century. Edited by Allen Wood and Susan Hahn
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), pp. 323–338.
67. Guyer, 2008, p. 174.
68. For discussion of Michelangelo’s and Goethe’s theory of art: Louis Dupré, The
Quest of the Absolute (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2013),
pp. 118–121.
69. For discussion how Schopenhauer opposes aesthetics to natural science: Foster,
1999, pp. 215–220.
70. For more on this relationship between Schopenhauer and the German Idealists:
Gardner, 2012; Id., ‘Schopenhauer’s Metaphilosophy: How to Think a World
without Reason’. In: Schopenhauer’s Fourfold Root. Edited by Jonathan Head
and Dennis Vanden Auweele (New York: Routledge, 2017), pp. 11–31 .
Press, 1983), p. 239. See also: Patrick Gardiner, Schopenhauer (Harmondsworth:
Penguin Publishing, 1963), p. 20.
72. David Hamlyn, Schopenhauer (London: Routledge, 1980), p. 103. See also:
Hilde Heine, ‘Schopenhauer and Platonic Ideas’. In: Journal of the History of
Philosophy 4 (1966) 133–144.
73. Michael Fox, ‘Schopenhauer on Death, Suicide and Self-Renuncation’. In:
Schopenhauer: His Philosophical Achievement. Edited by Michael Fox (Sussex:
Harvester Publishing, 1980), p. 149.
74. Christopher Janaway, ‘Knowledge and Tranquility: Schopenhauer on the Value
of Art’. In: Schopenhauer, Philosophy, and the Arts. Edited by Dale Jacquette
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), p. 43.
75. Vandenabeele, 2001, pp. 33–37. Cf. William Desmond, ‘Schopenhauer’s
Philosophy of the Dark Origin’. In: A Companion to Schopenhauer. Edited by
Bart Vandenabeele (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2012), pp. 101–122.
76. Neeley, 2003, p. 88; cf. Atwell, 1995, p. 130; James Chansky, ‘Schopenhauer
and the Platonic Ideas: A Groundwork for an Aesthetic Metaphysics’. in:
Schopenhauer: New Essays in Honor of His 200th Birthday. Edited by Eric von
der Luft (Lewiston: Edwin Mellen Press, 1988), pp. 67–81.
77. Schopenhauer narrows these exceptional cases further down to the male
gender. In his view, “we would be more justified in calling the female sex
the unaesthetic. They really and truly have feeling and receptivity neither for
music, nor poetry, nor the plastic art, but it is mere aping for the sake of
their desire to please when they affect and pretend in these matters. This is
why they are incapable of a purely objective interest in anything” (PP2 656).
Schopenhauer believes that women are poorly or not at all gifted with artistic
talents and ought then to self-consciously evade the aesthetic arts. One can-
not help but to ponder that these misogynic allegations were occasioned by
Schopenhauer’s highly successful artist-mother, with whom he lived in almost
constant animosity.
78. Music, however, has no “suitable place [. . .] in the systematic context of our pre-
sentation” since it is not the “imitation or repetition of some Idea” (WWV1 302).
In fact, music is “an unmediated objectification and copy of the entire will”
(WWV1 304). Schopenhauer then appears to hold to two different theories
of arts dependent upon whether the piece of art is attempting to be a perfect
copy of the Platonic Idea or of the will (cf. Magee, 1983, pp. 239–240). Since
the Ideas themselves are objectifications of the will, this does not appear to be
a substantial indictment against Schopenhauer’s theory of art. All art namely
attempts to be an instantiation of the will itself, although most of them do this
indirectly via the detour of the Platonic Ideas. Music does not need such an
intermediary and moves to the core of the matter directly (cf. Neeley, 2003,
pp. 108–109). Schopenhauer has by this, however, not explained how appreci-
ating music (or, in the classical problem, tragedies) as the perfect copy of a vora-
cious, all-devouring impersonal will can be a pleasant enterprise that releases
the human agent from the very pain it so strikingly portrays (cf. Guyer, 2008,
pp. 173–174; Vandenabeele, 2003, pp. 90–106; Sandra Shapshay, ‘The Problem
with the Problem of Tragedy: Schopenhauer’s Solution Revisited’. In: British
Journal of Aesthetics 52 (2012) 17–32). This will be discussed further below
(chapter six).
79. Resp. Neeley, 2003, pp. 83–86, 87–92, 92–106.
80. Hamlyn, 1980, p. 110: cf. Hamlyn, 1980, p. 110: cf. Alex Neill, ‘Aesthetic
Experience in Schopenhauer’s Metaphysics of Will’. In: Better Consciousness.
Schopenhauer’s Philosophy of Value. Edited by Christopher Janaway and
Alex Neill (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009), pp. 26–40; Alex Neill and Sandra
Shapshay, ‘Moral and Aesthetic Freedom in Schopenhauer’s Metaphysics’. In:
International Yearbook of German Idealism 11 (2013) 245–264.
81. For a similar solution: cf. Neeley, 2003, pp. 84–86; Graves Taylor, 1987, p. 50.
82. I want to express my gratitude to the anonymous reviewer of Routledge for
pressing me on this point.
83. Schopenhauer calls the coupling of the terms ‘will’ and ‘life’ a pleonasm because
in his view all desire is desire to be (WWV1 324). By ‘being’, Schopenhauer
means precisely something like ‘expressing oneself’. Obviously, before a desire
can ‘express itself’ it must already ‘be’. In fact, Schopenhauer couples these two
notions: ‘to be’ is ‘to express oneself’, or, ‘being’ is ‘acting’. This explains why
in the denial of the will to life, the ‘being’ of something is denied because it has
seized to act without therefore necessarily vanishing from existence. Nietzsche
misunderstood Schopenhauer’s complex understanding of ‘being’ and ‘acting’
when he called ‘will to life’ a contradiction in terms: “Indeed, the one who shot
at truth with the words ‘will to existence’ did not hit it: this will—does not exist!
For, what is not cannot will; but what is in existence, how could this still will to
exist!” (Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Edited by Adrian Del Caro
and Robert Pippin (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), p. 90).
3 Schopenhauer’s Metaphysics
Most post-Kantian philosophers accepted Kant’s argument that the mere

interconnection of abstract thought could not justify the extension of abstract
thought to existence. There emerged accordingly a need for a ‘mediator’,
something that enables abstract thought to move beyond itself. For Fichte
and the early Schelling, this was intellectual intuition; for Jacobi, this was the
revealed, immediate certainty that God exists as a being outside of the self;
for Hegel, this was the historical process in which absolute spirit manifests
itself; for the later Schelling, this was the immediate epiphany of God in
mythology, revelation and art. All of these authors accepted Kant’s critical
limitation of Verstand to the realm of possible experience, but equally argued
that Kant had not given proper attention to a different way of becoming inti-
mated with that which lies beyond experience. Schopenhauer’s metaphysics
seems to fit with general post-Kantian philosophy since, on the one hand,
he accepts Kant’s transcendental idealism and epistemology more or less
unabridged and, on the other hand, he argues that we nonetheless have
knowledge of the in itself. The decisive difference between Schopenhauer
and his contemporaries relates to the type of knowing (which for Schopen-
hauer is irrational) that could move the agent beyond self-enclosure.
By introducing a different form of knowing, Schopenhauer builds up what
is traditionally called a metaphysics. He does so not by ignoring or chas-
tising Kant’s destruction of (rational) metaphysics, but by rebuilding from
the ruins of previous projects in metaphysics a new and original system of
metaphysical thinking. At one point, I hesitated to call Schopenhauer’s phi-
losophy of will a metaphysics.1 This was due to the fact that the term ‘meta-
physics’ has, over the last two centuries, mainly through the interventions
of Kant, Nietzsche, Heidegger and Derrida (and others), become associated
with a way of doing philosophy that revolves around rational deductions and
austere concepts. The metaphysical project is then inappropriate because it
oversteps the boundaries of possible knowledge (Kant) or because it forgets
the ontological difference between Being and beings (Heidegger) or because
it fails to recognize the perspectival, will-dependence of all knowledge claims
(Nietzsche) or because it does not recognize the hermeneutical and relative
nature of all claims to truth (Derrida). Schopenhauer’s metaphysics attempts
to avoid all of the above pitfalls, and yet appears for all intents and purposes
to be a metaphysics. Schopenhauer swears allegiance to Kantian transcen-
dental idealism, then he advocates in favor of the radical (toto genere) dif-
ference between representations and the in itself and finally he supports the
idea that all claims to knowledge are subject-dependent.
Schopenhauer might have been unwilling on certain occasions to call his
own philosophy of will a metaphysics. According to his own definition,
metaphysics is
all supposed cognizance that goes beyond the possibility of experience,

and so beyond nature or things in their given phenomenon, in order to
inform us as to how, in one or another sense, they are conditioned, or,
to put it in popular terms, as to that which is behind nature and makes
is possible.
(WWV2 180)
As will be discussed more thoroughly in chapter five, metaphysics is the

common term between philosophy and religion. Both of these respond to a
typically human need (Bedürfniss) to extend the will to life beyond the fear
of death. This is achieved by encapsulating finite, conditioned reality within
infinite, unconditioned reality. In ways, Schopenhauer’s own metaphysics
accomplishes this very thing but without the optimistic illusion that this would
deliver some sense of personal, individual immortality to the individual.
Instead, Schopenhauer develops an abstract, philosophical and pessimistic
metaphysics that advocates that all of life is, at its core, self-expressive will.
In the Nietzschean and Heideggerian picture of Platonic-Christian meta-
physics, metaphysical projects thrive on an ontologically informed dual-
ism between a chaotic world of the senses and a stable world of intellect.
Schopenhauer appears then to be a striking transitional figure since he sug-
gests a more monistic point of view: the world of the senses is subjectively
grasped by an individual as well as by the manifestation of a primordial
a-rational will. As such, this monistic metaphysics does not fit smoothly with
the classical definition of metaphysics—which is perhaps why some people
are loath to call Schopenhauer’s project metaphysical. Perhaps a more com-
prehensive way then to define metaphysics would be as an investigation
of reality in all its possible dimensions, both upwards (trans-as-cendence)
and downwards (trans-de-scendence). While traditional metaphysics sought
‘up high’ for the fundamental principles behind reality, Schopenhauer’s own
metaphysics takes a decisively subterranean direction.
Schopenhauer marries his metaphysics to Kantian transcendental idealism
by showing ‘how’, or better ‘that’, the human agent has access to knowl-
edge independent of the principle of sufficient reason by means of which
the human being can amount to some form of knowledge of the in itself.
Familiarity with one’s body can work as a compass that enables the human
agent to characterize the in itself of the whole of reality by extending this
Schopenhauer’s Metaphysics 85
familiarity beyond one’s own body to the whole of reality (as an ‘assump-
tion’). From this, a comprehensive understanding of representational reality
and reality in itself can be built. First, the basis of this Schopenhauerian
assumption will be explored (section 1) afterwards to explore how this gen-
erates a point of view in the form of naturalism (section 2) and determinism
(section 3).
Section 1: The Metaphysical Assumption

Schopenhauer tends to refer the reader to his earlier work and claims that
it is not his nature to repeat himself—something he reiterates several times
(e.g., WWV1 X, XI)—but ironically, not many philosophers have ever been
so prone to repetition. In fact, the whole of Schopenhauer’s philosophy is the
thinking through of but a ‘single thought’. In a number of paragraphs (most
importantly § 18 of WWV1 and § 18–19 of WWV2), Schopenhauer develops
his intuition that the inner essence of the world is ‘will’ by pointing to the
immediate acquaintance the particular human agent has with his inner being
through his body. Such immediate awareness then warrants the assumption
that the inner essence of all representations, and all represented objects, is will.
A representation is a mental image in the human brain that conjoins an
objective input (an object) with a subjective buffer. Schopenhauer holds that
“what the intellect is in self-consciousness, thus subjectively, displays itself
in consciousness of other things, thus objectively, as the brain” (WWV2
277; cf. PP2 290–291 and 618). Accordingly, Schopenhauer reads human
consciousness naturalistically: all cognition depends on the brain for its exe-
cution. This brain, however, is also an expression of the will: “The will does
not have its seat in the brain, and moreover, as the metaphysical element, is
the prius of the brain as it is of the entire body” (WWV2 278). This means
that the brain cannot be the originator of representations since it is itself part
of representational reality. Interestingly, the language of a ‘prius’ is reminis-
cent of what Fichte calls the ‘absolute I’ as the necessary systematic whole
of all knowledge. But rather than thinking of the ground of (knowledge of)
reality idealistically such as a ‘transcendental subject’ (Kant) or an ‘absolute
I’ (Fichte), Schopenhauer prefers to relate this prius to an irrational or bet-
ter proto-rational dimension of reality, namely the will. This makes sense
because Schopenhauer has shown that rationality itself must be dependent
upon something prior to it, which suggests that whatever is prior to rational-
ity cannot be rational. A similar argument is proposed by the later Schelling
in his so-called positive philosophy. Here, Schelling argues that the ‘system of
reason’ must necessarily be preceded by something pre-rational that enables
this system, something of which we become aware by pressing the claims of
purely negative philosophy (or rational philosophy) to extremes:
But the extralogical nature of existence rebels so decisively against this

that even those who, consistent with their concepts, explain the world
and even their own existence as the mere logical consequence of some
kind of original necessity do not have the words they want and must
rather, forsaking the standpoint of pure thought, reach for expressions
that are entirely unsuitable, and indeed impossible, from their stand-
point.2
Back to Schopenhauer, however. Any objective information we might nat-

urally receive from the in itself is necessarily modeled in accordance with
certain subjective principles. Then representation is not an immediate copy

of the in itself of reality and to form appropriate knowledge of the in itself,
this subjective input needs to be eliminated.
We have discussed above four different forms of knowledge that, in
varying degrees, are capable of cancelling out that subjective input. Kant
frowned on the propensity of human reason to dialectical reasoning, i.e.,
the proclivity to transgress the limits of valid possible knowledge. For Kant,
all knowledge is properly subjective, but reason has a tendency to obscure
this insight. In response, reason ought to be exposed to a self-critique and
accordingly confined to the domain of possible experience. Schopenhauer
recognizes as well that human agents have a tendency to move beyond sub-
jective knowledge. Human agents are “not satisfied with knowing that [they
have] representations [. . .] [They want] to know the meaning of those repre-
sentations” (WWV1 117–118). The human agent is then propelled to move
beyond subjective, representational reality, but for Schopenhauer this is not
an expression of enthusiastic overconfidence but rather a justifiable aspect
of human nature. Schelling as well would emphasize that the more fervently
philosophy was confined to merely phenomenal or conceptual, the more
prominently the extra-logical or ‘positive’ philosophy starts to press its own
claims: “The more purely the negative philosophy was put forth, the more
forcefully the positive had to rise up in contrast to it”.3
How can this be accomplished if Schopenhauer wants to stay within
the confines of Kantian transcendental idealism? To pierce into the inner
essence of things would be forever impossible if human agents cannot
find a way beyond subjective reality by means of some radically differ-
ent way of cognition. Schopenhauer claims to have found this in the
non-representational knowledge of the human body: the awareness we
have of our bodies divulges something about reality in itself. Schopenhauer
is in fact moved by an age-old philosophical consideration: since all of rep-
resentational reality appears to be deeply relative, is there such a thing as
its absolute, inner essence? In Christopher Janaway’s words, Schopenhauer
is “exercised by the thought that the Kantian (or more or less Kantian)
thing-in-itself is an unknowable something lying behind, or shrouded deep
inside, the world of our experience, unable to be an object of our acquain-
tance”.4 The human body offers a release from ignorance. The body can
function namely as a mediator that makes the human agent aware of the
non-representational essence of that particular agent. The human body
is the ‘immediate objecthood of the will’ and immediately familiar to the
human agent (not mediated through the subjective consciousness). This
type of knowledge is not entirely independent of the principle of suffi-
cient reason since it still takes place in temporal succession (WWV2 220).
Because of this, “the inner perception that we have of our own will still
does not by any means provide an exhaustive and adequate cognizance
of the thing in itself. The latter would be the case if the cognizance were
entirely immediate” (WWV2 220). Schopenhauer then modifies and mit-
igates Kant’s stern insistence on the unknowability of the thing in itself:

while cognizance based on the principle of sufficient reason will never
deliver the thing in itself, the non-representational knowledge of our body
makes us vaguely aware of the in itself of our own reality.
Schopenhauer has argued, up to this point, that the particular agent’s
inner essence is will. But how does he extend the scope of his conclusion
from the inner essence of ‘the particular subject’ to ‘the in itself’? One way
of clarifying Schopenhauer’s argument is to read it as a reversal of Des-
cartes’ ontological argument. The argument roughly goes as follows: when
one scans self-consciousness, one is confronted with the idea of the infinite,
which cannot be generated by self-consciousness. The origin of that idea
must have a level of reality at least equal to that idea. What is more, if
one examines the idea of infinity—which is that-which-a-greater-cannot-be-
thought—we find that this idea must necessarily have an extension, or else a
greater could be thought. This seems very much removed from Schopenhau-
er’s metaphysics. Indeed, in his doctoral dissertation, Schopenhauer argues
that Descartes’ version of the ontological argument is “a most beloved piece
of nonsense” (UWS 10). In his view, this argument namely confuses the “two
foremost meanings of the principle of sufficient reason”, i.e., the principle of
‘becoming’ (causality) and the principle of ‘knowing’ (logical analysis), and
is as such nothing but a “conjurer’s trick” pulled on philosophy (UWS 10).
By including the predicate ‘existence’ under the predicate ‘perfection’, the
philosopher assigns, via a detour, ‘existence’ to any subject it assigns ‘per-
fection’ to. But, as Kant also emphasized, this “in no way demonstrates the
justification for asserting the whole concept; rather, it either was completely
arbitrarily invented or introduced by the cosmological proof” (PP1 116). In
other words, what is being claimed here might be logically correct; it cannot
prove the empirical reality of the concept. In Schopenhauer’s view, this is “a
sleight of hand [tour de passe-passe] that tries to show the logically neces-
sary as the actually necessary” (PP1 118) and the ontological argument is
“nothing more than a sophistical and utterly unconvincing play of concepts”
(WWV1 606). Schopenhauer then shares the Kantian point of view that one
is in need of something empirical to assign existence to a concept: “A true
philosophy cannot be spun out of mere abstract concepts, but instead must
be grounded on observation and experience, inner as well as outer [. . .].
Philosophy must have its source in the intuitive apprehension of the world”
(PP2 9). What puts some distance between Schopenhauer and Kant is that
the former will allow for different forms of apprehending reality that do not
all remain trapped in representational reality.
While Schopenhauer is very harsh on the ontological argument, his method-
ology in coming to positive awareness of the in itself of reality closely resem-
bles Descartes’ argument. Schopenhauer also scans his self-consciousness for
a kind of awareness that cannot be derived from self-consciousness. While
for Descartes this is the idea of the infinite, this becomes for Schopenhauer
the intimate awareness of the body as will. In other words, both authors
argue that we are conscious of something either of which we cannot be the

author or which does not fully submit to the principle of sufficient reason:
either the thought of the infinite (Descartes) or the immediate intuition of our
body as will (Schopenhauer). Schopenhauer proceeds then to use this aware-
ness so as to determine positively something outside of self-consciousness,
while Descartes used the idea of the infinite to argue for the necessary exis-
tence of the infinite outside of self-consciousness. In both cases, something
within self-consciousness allows us to characterize positively something
outside of self-consciousness. The mistake Descartes made—a mistake
repeated by Kant, Fichte, the early Schelling and Hegel—was to use the laws
of self-consciousness to determine what is beyond self-consciousness. The
vital lesson to be taken from this very specific awareness of one’s own body
should be that that which lies beyond self-consciousness does not conform
to the laws of self-consciousness. To use certain specific rational faculties to
characterize the in itself is a gross mistake. In Fourfold Root, Schopenhauer
ridicules specifically Fichte’s argument:
The name of reason, however, was assigned to a completely imaginary,

or in plain language, a made-up faculty, in which one had something like
a little window that opened upon the superlunary, or indeed the super-
natural world, a window through which could be received, fully finished
and prepared, all the truths that old-fashioned, honest, reflective, and
deliberative reason had previously troubled itself with and struggled
over in vain for centuries.
(UWS 123)
Reasoning according to the principle of sufficient reason is inapt to determine

what lies beyond self-consciousness or to explain the relationship between
self-consciousness and the in itself. As such, while the ontological argument
(or at least Descartes’ version of it) used a notion in self-consciousness to
expand upon rational self-consciousness, Schopenhauer uses that notion to
discover what precedes and conditions self-consciousness. There is, again, a
link with Schelling’s positive philosophy. It was in fact the reflection upon
the ontological argument that moved Schelling to his positive philosophy,
since he realized from this (or at least Kant’s critique of the argument) that
existence could not be derived from mere concepts.5
True to his principles, Schopenhauer will use non-rational awareness to
understand that his body is in itself will. Given that argument, he believes
that one can make either of two possible assumptions: this body is known in
a twofold manner (representation and will) because this body is (1) unique or
(2) because the particular agent has a unique link to this body. Schopenhauer
believes that the latter assumption is more plausible and thus establishes that
other bodies are highly similar to the agent’s body. The only relevant differ-
ence is that this particular agent has unique epistemological access to his or
her body. Schopenhauer then assumes that all bodies have a representational
and non-representational side: “Other objects are like the body” (WWV1
124) and: “The microcosm is equivalent to the macrocosm” (WWV2 676).
Schopenhauer’s rejection of skepticism and solipsism returns at this crucial
juncture: solipsism would argue that there is only one object that is cognized
in two ways, and skepticism would more moderately claim that only one
object can be cognized in two ways.6 Schopenhauer does not put too much
stock in either of them: theoretical egoism or solipsism can “of course never
be disproved: still, it is only ever used in philosophy as a skeptical sophism,
i.e. for show. As a genuine conviction it can only be found in a madhouse:
accordingly, it should be treated with medication, not refutation [nicht sowohl
eines Beweises, als einer Kur]” (WWV1 124). Schopenhauer is well aware of
the fact that the knowledge he is looking for can be seen as inappropriate. At
the onset of the second book of WWV1, Schopenhauer quotes the German
occult alchemist Agrippa von Nettesheim, who claimed the following about
alchemy in a letter to his friend and protector Aurelius ab Aquapendente:
“It dwells in us, not in the underworld, nor in the heavenly stars: All this is
brought to pass by the living spirit in us” (WWV1 112). Agrippa made this
statement with respect to the magical properties of alchemy, namely that it is
to be understood as the workings of an inner spirit, not an exterior demon
or angel. Schopenhauer will similarly advocate that the meaning of outer
reality is found within the human agent, not beyond or below it. In the first
edition of WWV1 (1818/19), Schopenhauer used a line from Goethe’s Faust
as epitaph to the second book of WWV1: “That I may discover what holds
the world’s innermost core together, see all its effective power and seeds, and
no longer mess around with words” (WWV1 p. 573). Both quotes refer to a
heretical and forbidden knowledge, whether through alchemy (Agrippa) or
through a deal with the devil (Faust). The forbidden nature of this knowledge
derives from its violating Kant’s critique limitation of knowledge to the reach
of possible experience. Schopenhauer believes that one can obtain knowledge
beyond sensory experience and the principle of sufficient reason, but that this
bit of knowledge is not to be found outside of the human subject or in some
rational faculty, but in the deepest a-rational core of that agent. Schopen-
hauer claims then to have found this insight already in Kant: “Kant’s doctrine
makes us realize that we need not look beyond ourselves for the beginning
and the end of the world, but rather within” (WWV1 498).
The common sense validity of Schopenhauer’s naturalistic expansion is
up for debate: while common sense would surely be at ease with assigning
strong similarities between human beings, it would be a stretch to apply
these insights univocally to the whole range of reality. To illustrate, should I
accept that my inner essence is will, it is fairly natural to assume that other
human beings are similarly constituted but how would this justify the argu-
ment that the inner essence of a rock is similarly will? Are rocks and human
beings not radically different beings? For instance, how exactly does a rock
exhibit volitional behavior? Schopenhauer’s naturalistic assumption can

therefore appear stretched and prone to lose its common sense validity when
applied universally. What is then interesting in this respect is that immedi-
ately after Schopenhauer discusses the inner essence of the world as will, he
moves on to discussing naturalism. By taking naturalism as a point of entry
into Schopenhauer’s metaphysical assumption that all of reality is highly
similar to the essence I feel myself to be, we can further clarify Schopenhau-
er’s postulation of the whole of reality as will. The result is the following:
Schopenhauer believes that naturalism is the more plausible assumption.
For now, the rather unique content Schopenhauer assigns to ‘will’ merits
highlighting. What is this will that is the inner essence of all being? Kant
had a two-fold conception of will that either designates the human power
of choice (Willkür) or rationality itself (Wille). Kant furthermore assigned
to these a qualitatively different form of autonomy: whereas the power of
choice is free in the sense of not being determined except through absolutely
spontaneous incorporation, the rational Wille is autonomous in the sense of
being fully determined through a priori laws of rationality alone. Schopen-
hauer will, in my view, metaphysicalize the Kantian power of choice and
completely dislodge this from any sense of normative rationality: the will
turns into completely free, self-expression (see section four). The ‘will’ does
not then itself desire anything in particular, but is the fount of desire itself
that works as a vis a tergo, rather than a vis a finalis. The will when aris-
ing in representations (primarily as a movement of a body) is nevertheless
goal-oriented and fully causally determined because it stands under the prin-
ciple of sufficient reason; the will-in itself is not restrained by this principle
and turns out to be “groundless, lying outside of the province of the princi-
ple of sufficient reason” (WWV1 194), it is the “absence of all goals, of all
boundaries, endless striving” (WWV1 195) and “eternal becoming, endless
flux [ewiges Werden, endloser Fluss]” (WWV1 196).
Section 2: Non-Reductive Naturalism

Although Schopenhauer is often rightly named a somewhat late enthusi-
ast of the Romantic movement in Germany, he does not so readily share
Romanticism’s often outright disdain of science and scientific natural-
ism. Mostly associated with musicians such as Wagner, Beethoven and
Chopin; writers such as Hölderlin, Novalis, Coleridge, Keats and Blake;
and theologians such as Schleiermacher and Ritschl, Romanticism gener-
ally takes issue with scientific reductionism that demeans the fullness of
(human) life to mathematical and scientific formulas. Admittedly, Roman-
ticism was never a uniform movement and its exact content is still very
much up for debate.7 When I refer to Romanticism from here onwards,
I have in mind the philosophical Romanticism of Schelling, whom Josiah
Royce called the ‘prince of the Romantics’. Indeed, Schelling’s works,
starting with the Philosophical Investigations into the Nature of Human
Freedom (1809), are generally recognized as the philosophical foundation

of Romanticism. In the later Schelling’s view, any philosophical system
that either strictly separates nature and freedom (Kant) or solely develops
a negative philosophy based on deterministic concepts (Fichte) is bound
to misunderstand the spirited interaction between ground and existence.
Already the early Schelling noted how a world-spirit (Weltgeist) permeated
all of reality, and that philosophical and scientific concepts often prove too
austere to fully understand reality; the later Schelling would add that the
proto- (mythology) and post-philosophical (revelation) dimensions require
different methods of approach. Even though serious questions of plagia-
rism were raised with regard to the relationship between Schopenhauer’s
philosophy and particularly Schelling’s Freedom Essay, Schopenhauer’s
relationship to philosophy and naturalism is of a rather different kind
than Schelling’s Romanticism.
What unites Schopenhauer and most of Romanticism is that both take
issue with the ontological pretensions of positive science, which has a ten-
dency to expand its claims based upon representational logic to ontological/
metaphysical dimensions. Romanticism was very much dedicated to finding
a sense of wholeness or harmony that was lost by the Enlightenment and the
onslaught of positive science. Or, as Bruce Matthews writes, “Romanticism
sought to create a new mythology capable of transforming the fragmented
echoes of the Enlightenment into a symphonic age of scientific knowledge,
Bildung, and political freedom”.8 This did not incline most Romantics to
dismiss positive science altogether, and neither did Schopenhauer. Instead
of dismissing positive science, Schopenhauer proposes to limit the reach
of positive science to representational reality. From this perspective, Julian
Young is right to point out that Schopenhauer’s attitude towards science
is more moderate than most of his Romantic contemporaries, especially
since Schopenhauer does propose a number of beneficial aspects inherent to
positive science.9 Another important difference between Schopenhauer and
Romanticism with regard to their report to positive science is that Schopen-
hauer’s own philosophical methodology is remarkably similar to the one
employed by positive science. In his attempt to uncover the ‘hidden essence’
or ‘in itself’ of representational objects, he strips away every non-essential
aspect in order to analyze its most elemental parts. Similarly, a scientist
would examine the properties of salt by reflecting on it most basic compo-
nents, namely sodium (Na) and chloride (Cl).
The general tendency of Schopenhauer’s investigation into the in itself of
reality is thus guided by a process of abstraction and the elimination of acci-
dents. Accordingly, Schopenhauer notes that ‘concepts’ are more abstract
and essential than representational objects, (Platonic) Ideas are even more
elemental than these concepts and, finally, the will is the most elemental
characteristic of all objects and is able to unite all of reality under the same
denominator. Schopenhauer’s philosophy is thus in a way also a kind of
‘reductionism’ in that he reduces higher forms of being to more elemental
properties. Most of German idealism tended towards making the opposite

reflective strategy: instead of explaining the higher in virtue of the lower,
they explained the lower in virtue of the higher (e.g., humanity as an aspect
of a more comprehensive world-spirit). Where Schopenhauer’s methodology
parts ways with positive science is that he does not reduce the in itself of
reality to lifeless ‘dead matter’, but retains a strong sense of vitalistic life-
force as the most basic element. The reduction of all forms of life to ‘dead
matter’ is, for Schopenhauer, a bridge too far, and so he opposes this sense
of reductionism in favor of analyzing the most essential element of existence
as a life-force that remains hidden, but sometimes shimmers through, rep-
resentational reality. This is why Schopenhauer’s sense of naturalism is best
described as non-reductive.
Schopenhauer starts off from the assumption that every representational
object is reducible to more essential parts. In other words, every object is
made up from and can be fully explained by virtue of its most basic aspect,
namely will to life. The consequences of this point of view cannot be over-
stated: Schopenhauer believes that every bit of (in)organic matter, animal
and human life can be perfectly accounted for by means of reference to
will. For instance, the apparent differences between a mother cat caring
for her kittens and a doctoral student in philosophy researching his or her
doctoral dissertation is merely a representational, quantitative distinction
that inevitably can be reduced to will to life. While numerous authors tend
to applaud Schopenhauer’s philosophical stance that reality is only quan-
titatively, and not qualitatively, differentiated, they lament that his argu-
ment for establishing this point of view is fairly unconvincing. For instance,
John Atwell argues that Schopenhauer’s argument for the extension of his
self-knowledge of the body as will towards the will as the whole of real-
ity is at best a weak argument from analogy.10 An argument from analogy
implies that Schopenhauer takes the whole of reality as analogous to his
own will without thereby making any substantive claims on the real essence
of reality. In Atwell’s view, Schopenhauer only manages to establish this
argument a contrario: “If we do not carry out this extension, then we shall
have to acknowledge certain very unfortunate (and even deeply disturbing)
theses”.11 These disturbing theses are theoretical egoism (skepticism and/or
solipsism), practical egoism and metaphysical ignorance. Accordingly, Atwell
reads Schopenhauer’s argument for naturalism as either a form of ‘begging
the question’ (we are already assuming naturalism prior to establishing it) or
as a moralistic argument akin to what Kant called in his ‘Lectures on Phil-
osophical Theology’ a reductio ad absurdum practicum: if we do not make
this extension, we are giving cause for immorality. With regard to Kant’s
argument, Allen Wood writes: “If I deny the existence of a God or of a future
life, I can be made to deny the validity of the moral law. But I know the
moral law to be valid. Therefore, if I am to avoid this contradiction, I must
not deny the existence of a God and a future life”.12 If this were also applied
to Schopenhauer’s naturalistic assumption, his argument for extending our
own will beyond our own bodies would be to avoid immoral behavior (not
just to human beings, but also to animals and the environment). Seeing that
Schopenhauer cannot make the same appeal to the rational reality of a priori
moral considerations as Kant, he would have no valid reason for making the
assumption that the in itself of the whole of reality is principally similar to
his own in itself.
This reading is mistaken. One would do well to understand first the
rationale behind Schopenhauer’s naturalistic assumption. Only then can we
properly assess its validity. Reading Schopenhauer’s naturalistic assumption
as a moralistic argument appears highly uncharacteristic of Schopenhauer’s
philosophy and it would be, to say the least, odd that he refers to such a
thing at such a crucial point. While his naturalistic assumption has invasive
consequences for the moral worth of non-human animals, Schopenhauer
cannot validate this argument by reference to his well-known love for ani-
mals. At times, one does get the feeling that Schopenhauer detects a pure,
noble morality in his pets: “Precisely this accounts for the four-legged friend-
ships of so many people of better stock, for truly, how could they recuperate
from the endless dissimulation, falseness and treachery of human beings, if
there were no dogs into whose honest face they could gaze without mistrust”
(PP2 224). Deep insight into the ultimate oneness of reality, and the moral
consequences this insight has (e.g., compassion), will provide further credi-
bility to Schopenhauer’s naturalistic assumption (see chapter four).
Perhaps, Atwell’s first suggestion, namely that Schopenhauer’s naturalism
is a petitio principii or circular reasoning, can be revisited by turning it
around: Schopenhauer is, namely, establishing a point of view that might
not be philosophically dominant, but is nevertheless a reasonable assump-
tion. Let us put things this way: What is the more reasonable assumption?
A philosophical approach to reality that assigns qualitatively distinctive
worth to specific species or a philosophical approach that assumes that in
principle all species are remarkably similar? Perhaps Schopenhauer eschews
providing an elaborate account for naturalism because he believes that the
burden of proof is on the other side? Is it not far more credible to assume
that the different objects, bodies, individuals in the world are in their deep-
est essence remarkably similar? Such lines of argumentation were unfash-
ionable, according to Schopenhauer, because of a quasi-instinctive disdain
for naturalism, as this robs human agents of their unique and special
place in the cosmos. Schopenhauer believes that there has been, especially
in Christian-inspired philosophy, a pervasive tendency to elevate human-
ity over the rest of reality: “[Philosophers especially in the Christian era]
were intent on depicting human beings as differing as widely as possible
from animals” (WWV2 223). In his Prize Essay on the Basis of Morality,
Schopenhauer becomes more specific and attributes this schism between
human and non-human animals, and the subsequent obscuring of the true
ground of ethics in Western civilization, to the Judaic stench (foetor Judai-
cus) pervading Western society: “It can be seen that all ages and lands have
recognized the source of morality perfectly well; only Europe has not—for
which the Judaic stench is solely to blame that here permeates all and all”
(BGE 249; Cf. BGE 240).
This Judeo-Christian tradition identified the intellect as more essential
than the will, probably since the most obvious differences between human
and non-human beings stem from the intellect, and not the will. To maintain
such an elitist distinction between human beings and animals, philosophers
felt compelled to argue that reason enjoyed a lofty status at the very pinnacle
of reality, which in turn made the will only secondary and in permanent ser-
vice to the intellect. In a letter to Adam von Doss, Schopenhauer emphasizes
that the intellect is “a mere tool for the pathetic aims of individual mani-
festations of the will: what our intellect also accomplishes is indeed only
abusive” (B 278). The exaltation of intellect is, to Schopenhauer, abusive to
the environment but also to reality as a whole. This has given cause for seri-
ous philosophical misunderstanding, most grievously optimism. But since
such human self-glorification remained largely unchallenged in the Chris-
tian West for centuries, any philosopher who propagates a strong sense of
naturalism (diminishing the distinction between human and animal beings)
is met with serious adversity; philosophers would indeed invent the most
far-reaching sophisms and skeptical thought-experiments to warrant some
form of elevation of the human being over the animal.
An illustrative example of this can be found in David Hume’s Dialogues
Concerning Natural Religion.13 The three protagonists in this debate pref-
atorily (but perhaps not all wholeheartedly) agree on the existence of God,
but discuss the manner in which (if at all) God can be known: Demea is an
orthodox theist who believes that God can only to be known via a priori
deduction and not by reflection upon reality; Cleanthes believes that the
apparent design of physical reality provides a glimpse into God’s nature;
Philo is skeptical about any knowledge about God and subverts both
Demea’s and Cleanthes’ argumentation. Most authors naturally read Philo
as Hume’s mouthpiece, but the situation remains equivocal at best. Let us
turn to one memorable passage near the end of the Dialogues. Here, Philo
assaults Cleanthes’ core argument that God’s nature is known via reflection
on physical reality by discussing four circumstances of counter-purposiveness
in reality: pain as such, shortcomings in design, austere physical laws and
malfunctioning principles of nature. When discussing his argument that this
world is, pace Leibniz, ‘the worst of all possible’, Schopenhauer explicitly
reaches out to these arguments to settle his sense of atheist, naturalistic pes-
simism. Schopenhauer signals his own agreement with David Hume’s Dia-
logues and the Natural History of Religion (WWV2 665). He mentions that
Hume’s arguments are “very much to the point”, but then adds that they
are “quite different from [his own]” (WWV2 665). The general difference
between Hume’s and Schopenhauer’s arguments is likely that Hume’s focus
is on evil, while Schopenhauer’s focus is on suffering as such.
While Hume himself remains in hiding, he does seem to relate mostly to
the skeptical Philo. At this juncture, the reader is shown Philo’s (and likely
Hume’s) true position, as detailed by a shocked Demea: “But now I find you
running into all the topics of the greatest libertines and infidels; and betray-
ing that holy cause, which you seemingly espoused. Are you secretly, then, a
more dangerous enemy than Cleanthes himself?”14 By focusing on natural
theology, Philo actually came up with an argument against the existence of
God. Philo hid his true position until he could reasonably show that there
was no a priori or a posteriori ground for belief in God, which is inspired by
fear (timor Dei), and not truth. Strangely enough, Philo buys into Cleanthes’
argument in the final part of the conversation, which appears particularly
ad hoc.15 Perhaps this is to be attributed to Hume’s carefulness not to be
judged an atheist or even Philo’s mocking of Cleanthes? The proper con-
clusion of the dialogue seems to be the de-legitimation of natural religion,
which necessarily includes a more naturalistic point of view. Schopenhauer
might have felt, similarly as Hume did but who was a bit more cautious,
that unbiased reflection on natural reality warranted only one conclusion:
atheism and naturalism. Anyone who would argue to the contrary would
have the burden of proof on his or her side.
Contrary to the traditional tendency to separate human beings from ani-
mals, Schopenhauer accepts as a default assumption the deep inner similarity
not only between animals and humans (well before Darwin), but also between
animate and inanimate matter. Different beings are then distinguished only
on a gradual axis based upon a quantitative criterion. Schopenhauer even
finds non-naturalistic ontologies to be propagating a sense of immoralism:
animals similarly suffer as human beings do and, therefore, do not deserve to
be judged differently in a moral way. In fact, on one occasion, Schopenhauer
notes that the fate of the animals is to be a source of envy for humans. In his
view, “a human being has no more in terms of real physical pleasure than an
animal” (PP2 312). But the amount of suffering that a human being can and
has to bear far exceeds that of the animal! This has to do with the fact that
human beings feel pain more intensely than animals. A first reason for this
is that humans experience all pain and lack with a “powerful intensification
by thinking of the absent and the future” (PP2 312). Animals suffer only
the present; human beings suffer past, present and future. A second reason
for this is that the intense feeling of happiness and suffering can propel to
“fatal ecstasy or to desperate suicide” (PP2 312). The pursuit of intense
happiness (e.g., an overdose of drugs) or the avoidance of intense suffering
can easily lead human beings to their self-destruction. A third reason is that,
while human beings have the small boon of intellectual pleasure, this is
accompanied by the dreadful sting of boredom, which is “a real scourge”
(PP2 313). A final reason for the increased suffering of human beings has to
do with a “unique selection process [. . .] with regard to sexual gratification”
(PP2 313). Human beings suffer from their inability to acquire a mate, while
animals are generally more successful in procuring one. Schopenhauer’s nat-
uralism levels the playing field between human beings and the rest of being.
What is more, through stripping the human agent from its Kantian dignity
(based upon practical reason and autonomy), Schopenhauer actually ele-
vates the worth of other forms of life.
Section 3: Determinism
Determinism is the philosophical theory that regards every happening, action
or circumstance as exhaustively determined through antecedent causes. This
point of view gradually became an inescapable presupposition for most of
modern philosophy, but poses a significant problem for ethics or practical
philosophy: is ‘freedom’ (in whatever form) still a possibility in a determin-
istic universe? Traditionally, there are two relevant positions at the extremes
of this debate, namely compatibilism (Hume, Hobbes, Dennett) and incom-
patibilism (Lucretius, Van Inwagen). Compatibilists argue that some form
of freedom is logically compatible with a deterministic universe; incompat-
ibilists deny this possibility. Schopenhauer’s position is difficult to associate
with either position: he accepts that determinism does away with normative
or prescriptive ethics, but he still retains a sense wherein certain actions are
more estimable than others.
3.1 The Kantian Heritage

Schopenhauer’s own stance with respect to freedom borrows a lot from
Kant, so a short detour by Kant’s theoretical analysis of freedom can be illu-
minating. Kant recognizes that there are two rational positions that equally
have a rational justification, namely ‘there is a causality from freedom’ and
‘there is no causality from freedom’. Kant’s solution to this difficulty, to his
taking form as an antinomy of reason (A 444–451 / B 472–480), consists
in clearly separating two aspects of reality, namely the phenomenal and the
noumenal. From the phenomenal perspective, incompatibilism seems to be
the best presupposition: according to the ‘unity of experience’ a determinis-
tic universe precludes any occurrence to be determinatively uncaused. This
means that every occurrence is exhaustively and conclusively determined by
means of its antecedent causes, and that a ‘causality from freedom’ would
upset the ‘unity of experience’. But, equally, a ‘causality from freedom’ as
‘absolute spontaneity’ is necessary, because no happening can be determined
by an infinite regress of causes. If a certain happening is necessarily caused
by something else, this something else has similarly to be caused by some-
thing else, and there would be no fundamental point of conceptual finality.
An illustration: in Hindu mythology, the world is balanced on the back
of a number of elephants that are supported by a giant sea turtle. But what
supports the sea turtle? Or, is it turtles all the way down? For Kant, this
meant that there has to be an original cause, itself uncaused, to make sense
of reality as a whole. This is a causality from freedom, which is never oper-
ative in the phenomenal realm but must be presupposed to make sense of
phenomenal reality. If there is such a thing as freedom, it must be sought,

for Kant as well as for Schopenhauer, in the esse (being) and not in the oper-
ari (acting) of beings. Obviously, Kant expands upon this argument in his
practical philosophy by postulating the autonomy of the will as a necessary
condition for responsible, moral agency. From the theoretical perspective,
however, Kant sets out only to reconcile, on the one hand, the compatibilist
possibility of entertaining a notion of determinism and autonomy both with,
on the other hand, the incompatibilist rejection of having these at the same
time. In one commentator’s words, Kant argues for the compatibility of
compatibilism and incompatibilism.16
There is another Kantian distinction of importance here, namely between
intelligible and empirical character. Human beings, so Kant argues, can be
perceived as having two senses of character, which align with two different
senses of causality:
I call intelligible that in an object of sense which is not itself appearance.

Accordingly, if that which must be regarded as appearance in the world
of sense has in itself a faculty which is not an object of intuition through
which it can be the cause of appearances, then one can consider the cau-
sality of this being in two aspects, as intelligible in its action as a thing
in itself, and as sensible in the effects of that action as an appearance in
the world of sense.
(B 566 / A 538)
The intelligible character has a “causality that is not appearance”; it does

“not stand under any conditions of time” and it is “free of all influences
of sensibility” (B 567–569 / A 539–541). Since the intelligible character
does not appear even remotely like the empirical character, which has a
spatio-temporal, empirical appearance that can be influenced by sensibil-
ity, one could infer that these two characters do not interrelate. In fact,
the relationship between the intelligible and empirical proved an important
stumbling block for some of Kant’s contemporaries, such as Schiller. But the
qualitative difference between both characters does not exclude all similari-
ties, especially since the intelligible character is thought of as the cause of the
empirical character. While thus unknown in itself, the intelligible character
has “to be thought in conformity with the empirical character, just as in
general we must ground appearances in thought through a transcendental
object, even though we know nothing about it as it is in itself” (B 568 / A
540). As a side note, this slightly uncertain correlation between the empirical
and the intelligible returns in Kant’s discussion of the propensity to evil and
the adoption of the good Gesinnung, where one infers from a number of evil
or good acts to an evil or good disposition (RGV 20 and 48).
Schopenhauer’s report to determinism is remarkably similar to Kant’s
argument in the First Critique, not least because he follows Kant’s suggestion
that there can be a pathway from the empirical to the intelligible character
(section one). Schopenhauer himself even admits that he is only expounding

and amending Kant’s argument on freedom, leaving out the unwelcome bits
on practical, self-activating reason. Moreover, Schopenhauer believes that
Schelling’s Freiheitschrift (1809) simply repeats Kant’s argument: “Schelling
stands to Kant in the fortunate position of Amerigo to Columbus: someone
else’s discovery is stamped with his name” (BGE 83). This is ironic, given the
fact that Schopenhauer would later on be indicted with plagiarizing Schelling.
The noumenal or intelligible character of reality is, according to Schopen-
hauer, absolutely free, but whenever this manifests itself as a representa-
tion, it becomes fully determined through the principle of sufficient reason.
Recalling Kant’s suggestion that freedom is noumenal and determinism phe-
nomenal, Schopenhauer generally argues that the in itself is absolutely free
and the representation fully determined. Obviously, Schopenhauer and Kant
mean something quite different by freedom: for Kant, it is self-regulation
through universal laws; for Schopenhauer, it is absolute lawlessness. A con-
sideration that here speaks in favor of Schopenhauer is that Schopenhauer’s
argument is uniquely based upon logically rational considerations (while for
Kant morality played a role here as well). For Kant, noumenal freedom was
a necessary postulate of practical reason that was needed to make sense of
moral responsibility and the very ability to willfully act in accordance with
the moral law. For Schopenhauer, the principle of sufficient reason is ‘not
an eternal truth’ and has validity only for representations, which means that
this principle cannot be applied to the in itself or the will. The in itself must,
as a consequence, necessarily be unconstrained by any principle, material
or moral, and is as such nothing but pure, unconstrained self-expression.
Such lawless freedom was, to Kant, “an absurdity” (GMS 446) since, to
him, freedom is a form of determination, namely through universally valid
rational laws. Schopenhauer believes, however, that his position necessarily
follows from Kant’s own argument: since the laws of thought are only valid
for representational reality, there can be no ‘grounds’ or ‘causes’ in, to or
before the will. The will thus lacks any possible rational, physical, temporal,
spatial or motivational ground.
3.2 Cause, Stimulus and Motive

Whenever the will manifests itself, it is bound by certain incontrovertible laws
that derive from the fourfold root of the principle of sufficient reason. Since
Schopenhauer assumes a sense of naturalism, this kind of strict phenomenal
action-determining applies to any and all forms of being, e.g., human, rocks,
plants, animals—a conclusion that Schopenhauer openly espouses and does
not shun (WWV1 135). The same type of causal determination that rules the
physical interactions and movements of rocks, plants, animals also applies,
with the same rigorous necessity, to human beings. The consequence of this
is that human behavior is just as much a product of underlying causes, stim-
uli and motives as the behavior of rocks, plants and animals. Necessity per-
vades all. Schopenhauer defines ‘necessity’ as “the relation of consequent to

ground” (WWV1 135; cf. BGE 7). Accordingly, whenever something stands
in a causal relationship to an antecedent ground, it is necessarily caused by
this: “The will in itself is groundless, its appearance is very much subject
to the law of necessity” (WWV1 135). Schopenhauer divides these laws of
necessity into three different forms: cause, stimulus and motive. This dis-
tinction is, again, only for the benefit of further clarifying the subject mat-
ter since the same necessity applies to causes, stimuli and motives. Since
Schopenhauer’s initial discussion of these in WWV1 is somewhat obscure
(WWV1 136–141), we will mainly follow his more clear and systematic
exposition of this in his Prize Essay on the Freedom of the Will (BGE 29–34).
The first form of necessitation, i.e., a cause, is that “by means of which
all mechanical, physical and chemical alterations in objects of experience
occur” (BGE 29; cf. UWS 46–47). According to Schopenhauer, causal neces-
sity is characterized by two distinct but direct relationships between cause
and effect. First, a cause always generates a certain effect and, second, the
intensification of a cause will equally intensify its effect. Basically, kicking
a ball will always make it move, and kicking it harder will make it move
further. This ‘aetiology’ fully determines all “lifeless, i.e. inorganic bodies”
(BGE 30). Schopenhauer’s definition of a cause in WWV1 is more general
than the one above, namely: “A cause [. . .] is that state of matter which, in
necessarily bringing about another state, itself sustains just as great an alter-
ation as the one it causes, a state of affairs that is expressed in the rule ‘action
and reaction are equal’ ” (WWV1 137). According to both definitions, cause
precedes effect in such a way that it fully determines the effect by antecedent
conditions.
The second form of necessitation, i.e., a ‘stimulus’, is a specific sort of cause
that “firstly, undergoes no counter-effect itself in proportion to its influence,
and in which, secondly, no equality whatsoever pertains between its intensity
and the intensity of effect” (BGE 30; cf. UWS 47). The only really relevant
difference between a cause and a stimulus is that the latter does not have
such a readily acknowledgeable one-to-one relationship between intensity
of cause and effect. A small increase or decrease in a certain stimulus can
occasion impressive changes in organic nature. Schopenhauer ascribes most
changes in organic organisms to stimuli. In WWV1, Schopenhauer states
that the stimulus “bridges the gap between motive [. . .] and cause” (WWV1
137–138). A motive, as I will discuss below, is causality that has passed
through cognition which means that motives derive their relative strength
through the cognitive process (e.g., individualized character), not through
the causal object as such. Through this, a motive appears as an intentional
orienting towards a certain object while a cause is always unintentional
and unreflective. A stimulus then seems to shift between intentional and
non-intentional or mechanic behavior: for instance, ‘respiration’ in animal
beings could be considered as both intentional and mechanical.
The third form of necessitation, i.e., a ‘motive’ is “causality that goes
through cognition” (WWV1 31; cf. UWS 47–48), which typically belongs
to animal beings. Motives arise when an organic being reaches such a level
of complexity that its needs can no longer be met by stimuli and causes. All
animal beings are endowed with a cognitive faculty, and therefore able to
grasp and respond to motives, which are offered through objects that are
abstractly represented by the cognitive faculty. Above, I have noted that
Schopenhauer pushes for a complete identity of the human body with its
will which means that its acts of will (Willensakten) are fully determined
through the most intense motive that is presents for the cognitive faculty.
The difference between cause, stimulus and motive is therefore quantitative,
not qualitative:
The distinction between cause, stimulus, and motive is obviously merely

the result of a being’s degree of receptivity: the greater the receptivity, the
more subtle the mode of influence can be. A stone must be shoved; the
human being obeys a glance. Both, however, will be moved by a suffi-
cient cause, thus with equal necessity. For motivation is merely causality
proceeding by cognition.
(UWS 48)
Schopenhauer’s description of causes, stimuli and motives as univocally

determining all behavior could lead one to assume that any teleology or
end-causality is eschewed in Schopenhauer’s philosophy since teleology
implies that a ‘final cause’ or ‘final end’ is operative in the causal mechanics
of reality. Schopenhauer’s equivocal allegiance to Romanticism, however,
returns in his reflections on teleology: while he categorically denies any
“physicoteleology” or “anthropo-teleology”, he does arrive at some form
of teleology when reflecting upon organic nature (WWV2 390). Roman-
ticism believed that the inner spirit or soul (Weltseele) of reality had a
teleology or even eschatology, and then by being one with and reflecting
upon nature, humanity would enjoy a unity of matter and spirit. While
Schopenhauer does not partake in Romanticism’s mystical enthusiasm, he
does believe that “teleology is a completely sure directing principle for con-
sidering the whole of organic nature”, but qualifies this by saying that, as a
metaphysical explanation, teleology is only “valid in a secondary and sub-
sidiary way” (WWV2 375). What he means by this is the following: while
the in itself lacks any ground and purpose, the manifestations of the will
are the most perfectly ordered and structured objects with a purposive con-
stitution. This is something Schopenhauer likely took from Kant’s Third
Analogy in the First Critique. The manifestations of the will are necessarily
purposive, as lack of purpose in organic nature is, by Schopenhauer, identi-
fied with lack of efficient cause in inorganic nature. Schopenhauer sustains
this argument at length by reference to diverse zoological insights (WWV2
377 ff.). None of the teleology that Schopenhauer claims to perceive in
organic nature is anthropological or rational, since teleology is to him
the adequacy of the different parts of an organism to sustain the totality’s

survival.17
Schopenhauer consequently accepts teleological explanations insofar as
they apply only to representational reality, which means that they are con-
fined to the consideration that everything in nature is manifested with the
express purpose of sustaining survival. Two somewhat ad hoc thoughts of
Schopenhauer in some of his later works then necessarily appear odd or
even inconsistent with this. First, in his short essay On the Apparent Delib-
erateness in the Fate of the Individual, Schopenhauer does not appear at all
hostile towards the notion of providence. What is more, he finds this to be
in strict coherence with his philosophy. While he does not want to anthro-
pomorphize such guiding providence, he finds the very notion to be closely
connected to the kind of philosophical asceticism he espouses:
The dogma of providence, as being thoroughly anthropomorphic, could

not be deemed true in an immediate and proper sense; but it would be
the mediate, allegorical and mythical expression of a truth and con-
sequently, like all religious myths, completely adequate for practical
purposes and subjective reassurance.
(PP1 226–227)
Because these propositions appear to be rather unusual for the otherwise cyni-
cal Schopenhauer’s report to religious notions as such, this essay is not always
seriously considered to be an integral part of Schopenhauer’s philosophy—
especially since Schopenhauer himself admits that these observations are “not
to be taken seriously” (PP1 213). He qualifies these reflections further as a
“groping and fumbling in the dark”, but refuses to “abandon these thoughts
to oblivion” (PP1 213). These musings are most likely similar to his notion
of ‘eternal justice’, an element of Brahmanist mythology that Schopenhauer
finds as having some kind of credibility, but has difficulty assimilating in
his general philosophical theory. He does appear to become more optimistic
in his later works about a providential hand guiding humanity to its true
purpose:
Now since we have concluded from the results of my serious philosophy

(in contrast to mere professorial or comic philosophy) that the will’s
turning away from life is the ultimate aim of temporal existence, we
must assume that we shall all be gradually guided in that direction in a
way individually suited to us, thus often through long detours.
(PP1 236)
Worth mentioning is that some of Schopenhauer’s early philosophical admir-

ers were rather attracted to some of these later essays. Both Paul Deussen in
his Philosophie der Bibel and Freud in Jenseits des Lustprinzips refer amply
to the essay on providence.18
A second issue comes up when Schopenhauer is formulating his objec-

tions to Leibniz’s ‘best of all possible worlds’-argument. Here, Schopenhauer
somewhat provocatively and bombastically counters Leibniz by calling this
world the ‘worst of all possible worlds’. He supports his argument by deter-
mining the relative goodness of the world in reference to its innate tendency
to sustain life. He enumerates a myriad of examples that show how even the
smallest change in the universe’s physical configuration would render life
impossible. From this, Schopenhauer concludes that this is the worst of all
possible worlds, since an even worse one could not exist. While he believes
that existence might be aesthetically beautiful to behold, to live in that exis-
tence is not at all the ‘best possible thing’:
An optimist tells me to open my eyes and, looking into the world, see
how beautiful it is: in the sunshine, with its mountains, valleys, streams,
plants, animals, etc.—But is the world then a peep show [Guckkast]?
These things are of course beautiful to look at, but to be them is some-
thing entirely different.
(WWV2 665)
This argument is somewhat awkward in the whole of Schopenhauer’s phi-

losophy. In his view (as will be expounded in more detail below), human
existence is miserable and death is to be perceived as a relief from suffering.
Accordingly, the fact that this universe barely and only briefly sustains life
could be perceived actually as a blessing, since it naturally leads all life to
perish as soon as possible. What is even more staggering, Schopenhauer
seems to counter here his initial opinion that organic nature is well-equipped
for survival by arguing that it could not be equipped worse! These difficul-
ties remain unresolved.
3.3 Freedom of the Will?

After establishing a rigorously strict deterministic system based completely
on antecedent causes, stimuli and motives, one could ponder whether there
is any room for freedom of the human will in Schopenhauer’s philosophy.
Initially, Schopenhauer proposes a negative definition of freedom in his Prize
Essay on Freedom of the Will that he will ultimately retract. This negative
definition would go as follows: freedom implies being able to do what one
wills. According to this definition, one is free when there are not physical,
intellectual or moral hindrances to the expression of one’s will (BGE 3–6).
However, this definition cannot be applied to the will itself, since then an
infinite regress would appear. The question: “is the will free”, should be
namely further investigated as “can you will what you are willing?” and
“can you will what you will to be willing?” etc. Therefore, Schopenhauer
suggests the following definition of freedom: “The absence of all necessity”,
where ‘necessity’ means “that which follows from a given sufficient ground”
(BGE 7). Interestingly, in the Prize Essay Schopenhauer names three possible
sufficient grounds, namely logical, physical and mathematic. In his doctoral
dissertation (and consistently so in his other works), he names a fourth,
namely moral necessitation according to motives. Considering that the Prize
Essay sets out to inquire into the possible freedom (and knowledge thereof)
of the will, Schopenhauer could hardly establish as a premise that motives
necessarily causally determine the will. Therefore, he sets out to prove that
the same kind of necessitation that applies to logic, physics and mathematics
equally applies to motivation and the will.
Throughout his Prize Essay, Schopenhauer sets out first to elaborate on the
possible freedom of the will from the viewpoint of self-consciousness alone, as
the Royal Norwegian Society of Sciences (who promulgated the essay-prize)
suggested (BGE 3). While Kant went through great pains in Groundwork III
and the Second Critique to argue for the viability of the freedom of the will
from moral self-consciousness, Schopenhauer callously dismisses this possi-
bility rather early on. Schopenhauer defines self-consciousness as opposed to
consciousness of other things, a ‘self’ that he proposes to define in abstraction
from any moral or religious elements. Two things could be inferred from this:
Schopenhauer either denies that the human agent has any intrinsic religious
and moral aspects or he finds it safer to define the ‘self’ in abstraction from all
of these because the “dividing line” between what is intrinsic about religion
and morality and what is extrinsic “has not yet been sharply and incontro-
vertibly drawn” (BGE 10). What we can say, at least according to Schopen-
hauer, is that the self in self-consciousness is a willing thing: “Thus we find
self-consciousness very heavily, and in fact exclusively, occupied with the will”
(BGE 12). Accordingly, Schopenhauer concludes that self-consciousness is
‘too close’ to the subject to ever be able to establish a cogent and clear answer
to the Norwegian Society’s Prize-question. Moreover, self-consciousness does
not have the clarity and immediate certainty that someone like Fichte (i.e.,
rational intuition) would ascribe to it, something which Schopenhauer, again,
takes from Kant: “Out there, then, great brightness and clarity lie before its
gaze. But inside it is dim, like a well blacked telescope: no a priori principle
illuminates the night of its own interior” (BGE 22). The Prize Essay question
is then, for its first part, already answered negatively: self-consciousness can-
not warrant the freedom of the will.
After Kant established that the highest principle of morality can only be
autonomy, he investigates whether such autonomy is, at any time, operative.
Kant concludes in the Groundwork and the Second Critique that it must be
assumed that such autonomy is operative, although no knowledge of such
a thing can be gained: we can at best “comprehend the incomprehensibil-
ity” of the moral imperative (GMS 463). Schopenhauer will not let Kant
get away with this assumption, which he made to satisfy certain practical
interests. In fact, Schopenhauer argues purely theoretically that the “libe-
rum arbitrium we are asking after [. . .] could never be present in immedi-
ate self-consciousness” (BGE 24). He establishes this argument, in his own
words, from a non posse ad non esse (from impossibility to not being).
Schopenhauer notes that in Kant’s third conflict in the Antinomy of Pure
Reason there is no actual conflict since the thesis (there is freedom) depends
solely on “idle reason, i.e. the need to come to a stop at some time or other
in the regress”, while the antithesis has “all objective grounds in its favour”
(BGE 25). Kant’s assumption that an infinite regress is impossible—which
is often taken as a weak point in his argument, even today—is quickly
dismissed by Schopenhauer. Even some of Kant’s staunchest admirers have
felt that Kant’s argumentation here is flawed. For instance, Peter Strawson
opined about this that Kant is presenting an ad hoc solution to further his
moral goals, while determinism would obviously be true and freedom an
illusion.19 Schopenhauer similarly is troubled by Kant’s flight towards the
noumenal realm to warrant freedom. In his view, “nothing would essen-
tially be changed [if we would assume a first beginning or not]” (WWV2
362), since the laws of causality tyrannically determine reality, whether as a
“clock that was once wound up [or as] a perpetuum mobile” (WWV2 363;
cf. BGE 27–28; 70–71).
In order to give a comprehensive account of the nature of freedom of
the will, Schopenhauer turns to the consciousness of other things. After a
lengthy discussion of the differences between causes, stimuli and motives,
Schopenhauer examines whether motives univocally determine the human
will in the same way that causes and stimuli irrevocably determine, respec-
tively, inorganic and organic beings. And indeed, Schopenhauer concludes
that there is no essential difference between cause, stimulus and motive.
These all have the same kind of necessity: “The cause is more compli-
cated, the effect more heterogeneous, but the necessity with which it occurs
is not one hair’s breadth smaller” (BGE 38). Accordingly, the distinction
between cause, stimulus and effect is completely analytical and lacks any
real qualitative criterion: a motive is bound by the same necessity as a cause
and stimulus. Necessity implies that “the stronger motive will determine
movement” (BGE 40). The assumption of a ‘freedom of the will’ is indebted,
according to Schopenhauer, to a false logical assumption. When reflecting
logically, human beings acknowledge that they have a vast array of possible
options at any given time, but, despite the myriad of their logical options,
the one ultimately chosen will be in any given situation fully determined
through the human agent’s character and the situation. While absolved from
any particular situation, human agents can apply themselves to a great many
of things; in any specific situation, only one option is possible. Schopenhauer
wittingly illustrates this as follows:
Let us think of a human being who, while standing in the street, say,
might say to himself: ‘it is six o’clock in the evening, the day’s work is
ended. I can go for a walk; or I can go to the club; I can also climb the
tower to see the sun going down; I can also go to the theatre; I can also
visit this friend, or again that one; yes, I can even run out of the gate into
the wide world and never return. All of this is solely up to me, I have
total freedom over it; and yet I am doing none of that now, but am going
home with just as much free will, to my wife’. That is exactly as if water
were to speak: ‘I can strike up high waves (yes! In the sea and storm), I
can rush down in a hurry (yes! In the bed of a stream), I can fall down
foaming and spraying (yes! In a waterfall), I can rise freely as a jet into
the air (yes! In a fountain), finally I can even boil away and disappear
(yes! At 80° of heat); and yet I am doing none of that now, but I am
staying with free will calm and clear in the mirroring pond.’
(BGE 42)
Schopenhauer does not deny that the man or the water is able to logically
do all of this, but he argues that in a given situation and a given character,
there is only one possible outcome. Also, this passage is a good illustration
of Schopenhauer’s naturalism. Note that Schopenhauer does not merely sug-
gest that the man in the street and the water are similar, but emphasizes that
they are exactly the same. Of course, the human agent can bring all of this
to abstract consciousness and water cannot—which is why organic or inor-
ganic material will never be deluded in thinking that it is free. Human agents
are slaves to their motives and character in the same way that inorganic
material is a slave to natural laws: “Just as a ball cannot start into motion
on a billiard table until it receives an impact, no more can a human being
stand up from his chair until a motive draws or drives him away” (BGE 44).
Therefore, a free human will is absurd since “each human action would be
an inexplicable miracle [unerklärliches Wunder]—an effect without cause”
(BGE 45–46).
One significant difference between inorganic, organic and animal life is
that there is, in ascending order, a tendency to have an individualized char-
acter. Accordingly, while plants are generally highly similar, they tend to
differ in personal characteristics more than, say, rocks. Also, one can detect
an ever-increasing degree of individuality in animals, especially the ‘higher
animals’. Human beings particularly exhibit the greatest possible individ-
ual differences, which are not to be attributed to any ‘free will’, rather to a
unique and personal character. These highly personal characters of different
human agents have exacerbated the delusion that human beings have free
will. Namely, if one person in a given situation with specific stimuli, causes
and motives does the exact opposite thing of another person in the same
situation with the exact same causes, stimuli and motives, is this not proof
of a freedom of choice? Schopenhauer claims that this difference is not to be
attributed to freedom, but to the two persons having a different character.
The difference in character explains why human beings do different things in
similar circumstances. This character is individual, known only empirically,
constant and innate. As such, “the human being never alters” (BGE 50).
Although a lot of the greatest literary stories ever written are about certain
people who go through immense personal change, Schopenhauer believes
that a substantial change of character, pace Kant’s hope for moral regener-
ation, is not possible for a human being. Accordingly, if human agents do
something ‘against their character’, this does not mean that their character
has changed but that his character was previously misjudged. Education,
culture or exceptional events do not principally change anyone’s character.
A hero is a hero because of his inborn character, not his education. The con-
clusion to this is that there is no escaping your inborn character by means of
changing or trying to alter it: only through numbing this character through
some form of soteriological knowledge is freedom really possible—even
only as pure negativity.
Does this really mean then that there is no room at all for any kind of
freedom of the will in Schopenhauer’s philosophy besides ‘nothingness’ (see
chapter seven)? Initially, it seems as if every action of a human agent is
fully and completely determined through antecedent causes: “Each deed of
a human being is the necessary product of his character and of the motive
that occurs” (BGE 56). Interestingly, Schopenhauer seems to welcome that
“necessity [permeates] all things”, because if this was not so the world would
be “a monstrosity, a heap of rubble, a grimace without sense or meaning
[ein Monstrum, ein Schutthaufen, eine Fratze ohne Sinn und Bedeutung]—in
other words, the work of true and genuine accident” (BGE 61). In the Prize
Essay, Schopenhauer leaves it unequivocally clear that no form of freedom
pertains to the empirical human being. In passing, he tries to account for the
feeling of ‘responsibility’ for our own actions; why would we feel respon-
sible for our actions if they are the product of the strictest of necessity?20
Schopenhauer accounts for this by pointing out that human beings do not
feel responsibility for their actions, but rather for their character: we are all
aware that we could have a different character and have, accordingly, acted
differently; “So the responsibility he is conscious of relates only provisionally
and ostensibly to the deed, but fundamentally to his character” (BGE 93).
In Sandra Shapshay’s view, Schopenhauer’s argument does not merely
account for our feeling of responsibility, but actually settles that we do have
transcendental freedom. Obviously, by this she does not mean the same as
Kant’s transcendental freedom, but that Schopenhauer does leave some free-
dom to the individual.21 This would put some distance between Schopen-
hauer and a strong sense of determinism. I agree that Schopenhauer assigns
freedom to the intelligible character of the individual, but that intelligible
character is identified with the will.22 Obviously, the will is absolutely free,
but that freedom has few repercussions for human agents. Since we expe-
rience ourselves as will, we can also experience ourselves as free (while we
are not, really).23
The more important questions is as follows. Does this imply that there
is no room for changing behavior in Schopenhauer’s philosophy? What is
often forgotten about Schopenhauer’s metaphysics and ethics is that the
motives a human agent confronts can change in intensity or wholly dif-
ferent motives can be presented to that human being. Schopenhauer does
definitely not exclude the possibility of human beings receiving education

in such a way that certain interests of theirs are intensified or new interests
are created through the introduction of abstract concepts. One is then to
understand Schopenhauer’s ethics as providing certain bits of information
to the human agent that can work as a motive to alter the natural way of
behaving. This is, however, not a form of freedom because this new behavior
is determined by virtue of the new motive/interest that is introduced in the
human agent. As such, the freedom attained in reaching the ascetic state of
nothingness is determinatively caused by some bit of knowledge that tran-
quilizes the will. From the next chapter on, we will discuss in greater detail
what kind of insight can work so as to alter the human agent’s activity. In
sum, Schopenhauer defends “the strictest necessity carried through honestly,
with rigid consistency, and the most complete freedom, enhanced to the
point of omnipotence” (WWV2 365; cf. BGE 96–98). Absolute freedom
pertains to the inner ‘being and essence’ (esse) of the object and strict deter-
minism to its ‘effectuality and action’ (operari), which is, ironically, the exact
opposite of the common sense outlook on freedom and fatalism (cf. BGE
56 ff.). Schopenhauer suggests that the will objectifying itself is not bound
by any laws of necessity, yet the will’s subsequent manifestations are fully
bound by the laws of causality.
Section 4: Kant’s Anthropology as Leading

to Schopenhauer’s Metaphysics?
Schopenhauer’s strong sense of physical determinism appears to contrast
emphatically with Kant’s insistence on the transcendental freedom of the
human agent. Appearances are deceiving, however. Schopenhauer admits
that freedom is not to be sought in this world, but beyond it: “[Moral free-
dom] is not to be sought anywhere in nature, but instead only outside of
nature” (PP2 242); while Kant argues similarly in the First Critique that
“freedom [is] a pure transcendental idea which, first, contains nothing bor-
rowed from experience, and second, the object of which also cannot be given
determinately in any experience (B 561 / A 533; cf. RGV 94 and IaG 17).
Transcendental freedom is never observed in the phenomenal realm, but
is a necessary assumption, according to Kant, for making sense of, on the
one hand, the causal genesis of the phenomenal realm and, on the other
hand, practical agency, responsibility and the moral law. The freedom
Schopenhauer ascribes to the will (Wille) as thing in itself is clearly not the
rational self-legislation that Kant ascribed to the will (Wille).
Schopenhauer’s negative notion of freedom (BGE 3, 7, 27) is remarkably
similar to the notion of (negative) notion of freedom that Kant ascribes to
the power of choice (Willkür), namely, on the one hand, being undetermined
save through choice/manifestation and, on the other hand, providing a ‘first
beginning’ through such a choice/manifestation.24 Schopenhauer’s usage
of the term ‘Willkür’ (which is not always translated as ‘power of choice’)
can be confusing in this respect. It is interesting to note that, between the

first (1819) and the third and last (1859) edition of WWV1, Schopenhauer
went from using the term once to using it nine times. For now, ignoring
the times that he uses it to signify ‘arbitrary’ (e.g., WWV1 58; 29; 253;
406; 626), Schopenhauer uses ‘Willkür’ to denote an “unhindered freedom”
(WWV1 13; 141; 306; 478)—rejecting any “determined lawlikeness” to be
applied to Willkür (WWV1 141). Of particular interest is that, whenever he
uses Willkür in any metaphysically relevant manner, he appears to be saying
Wille at the same time. Accordingly, Schopenhauer identifies the Wille with
the Kantian Willkür, which inclines one to apply all characteristics of the
Kantian Willkür to the Wille. In this section, I will suggest an interpretation
of how one can take Schopenhauer’s unbound will as a continuation of
Kant’s depraved power of choice.
4.1 Kant on Freedom and Evil

In his reflections on human nature—most overtly so in the Religionsschrift,
Kant notes how the human power of choice appears to have acquired a pos-
itive propensity to prioritize the incentives of self-love over the moral law.
This is what he calls the ‘propensity to evil’ (Hang zum Böse), the ‘depravity
of the human heart’ or ‘radical evil’. He calls this evil radical, not because it
is particularly egregious, but because it goes to the ‘root’ (radix) of human
nature. This means that evil “corrupts the ground of all maxims” and, on
the other hand, “cannot be extirpated through human forces” (RGV 6:37).
Some of the characteristics of the Kant’s account of radical evil can be help-
ful in understanding the Schopenhauerian Wille.
In Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals, Kant suggested that
human beings experience a “powerful counterweight to all the commands
of duty, which reason represents to him as deserving of the highest respect—
the counterweight of his needs and inclinations, the entire satisfaction of
which he sums up under the name happiness” (GMS 405). Such statements
might, at first, read as the classical, rationalist lament that the human body
and its inclinations are a nuisance or distraction to the moral and intel-
lectual vocation of humanity. Kant will, however, revolutionize this way
of thinking about evil by suggesting that the ground of this rebellion can-
not “be placed, as is commonly done, in the sensuous nature of the human
being, and in the natural inclinations originating from it” (RGV 35). In other
words, sensuality and its inclinations are not the source of evil—Kant is
emphatic that the natural inclinations are in themselves good (RGV 6:58)!
In opposition to this trend, some philosophers such as Rousseau could be
read (somewhat simplistically) as suggesting that human culture and reason
are the source of evil. Kant rejects this possibility as well: the ground of our
rebellion against the morally cannot be “placed in a corruption of the mor-
ally legislative reason, as if reason could extirpate within itself the dignity
of the law itself” (RGV 35). So if neither sensuous nor rational nature is the
source of evil, what is?

Kant argues that the source of the rebellion is to be sought in an acquired
propensity of the power of choice that not so much undoes autonomy, but
mitigates the potential efficacy of autonomous agency. To put it more suc-
cinctly, the propensity to evil signals a problem with freedom itself because
freedom provides the possibility to make very poor use of freedom, and we
certainly are tempted to do this!25 Kant’s own example to illustrate a ‘pro-
pensity’ can be illuminating in this respect: alcoholism (RGV 29n). While no
one is born an alcoholic, we all have the propensity to become one through
the gradual habituation to the pleasures involved in consuming alcohol.
Similarly, no human agent is ‘addicted to evil’ when he or she is born, but
we all have a determinate propensity to accustom ourselves to prioritizing
self-love over the rational law. The nature of human freedom is such that we
are easily seduced to using this freedom poorly. Such a line of thought about
the human report to autonomy and rationality can be read as embryonically
preparing Schopenhauer’s metaphysics of will (see next section), but let us
first focus more closely on the relationship between evil and autonomy in
Kant’s moral philosophy.
The key word of Kant’s moral philosophy is autonomy, which means two
things: first, autonomy in the negative sense is the absolute spontaneity of
the human will that freely chooses to incorporate whatever interest, no mat-
ter its relative strength, into its maxim and, second, autonomy in the positive
sense is self-legislation of universal rational laws. In Kant’s words, negative
autonomy is “the property of [the causality of the will] that it can be efficient
independently of aliens causes determining it”; positive autonomy is “a cau-
sality in accordance with immutable laws but of a special kind” (GMS 446).
True autonomy is, then, not blind, unguided expression of certain desires or
passions (which is actually yet another form of external determination), but
the absolutely spontaneous incorporation of universal, rational laws into the
maxim. Even though Kant provides a deduction of both types of autonomy,
neither the positive or negative sense are up for debate: these are transcen-
dental, universal, necessary aspects of human rationality (GMS 446). What
this twofold view with regard to autonomy signals for Kant’s resulting anal-
ysis of evil, however, is that neither of these can be cancelled out when evil
is afoot. Evil cannot touch either autonomy in a positive or negative sense.
This means that evil cannot be a rational self-legislation, where we would
rationally choose evil over good, but neither can evil be the workings of
the sensuous inclinations that overpower free maxim-making. In the first
instance, evil would imply that legislative reason or positive autonomy
becomes undone and the human being would no longer stand under moral
commandments; in the second instance, evil would imply the relegation of
humanity to sheer animality since the absolute spontaneity of the rational
will or negative autonomy would be undone. Human beings, however, are
neither devils nor animals: they are both absolutely free and under moral
laws. This means that the ground of evil has to be sought in something
‘acquired’ (not original), since this must depend in some way upon the
free exercise of the power of choice. As such, the ground of corruption is
found in the self-wrought propensity to prefer self-love over the moral law
(RGV 29–32). The astonishing result of this is that evil is not something
located outside of human freedom, but an intrinsic aspect of the exercise of
freedom—at least for finite human agents. Peter Dews formulates pointedly
why this was scandalous to even Kant’s staunchest defenders:
Kant’s disturbing—and, to many, unacceptable—thought was not sim-

ply that human beings are psychologically or even morally divided
against themselves, but that human freedom is divided against itself.
Kant seemed to be implying that his own great discovery, the realization
that the human self is freedom, rather than merely possessing ‘free will’
as a capacity, was precisely what opened up the possibility of this inner
diremption.26
In a philosophical ethics based on autonomy, it seems rather awkward to

admit that there is something problematic about autonomy. Indeed, Kant
believes that freedom divides the human agent against him or herself. Those
of Kant’s proponents who would later on emphasize the universal architec-
tonic of a system of reason wildly refused to acknowledge a radical diremp-
tion (Entzweiung) within freedom itself that could not be undone through
rational progress (with the obvious exception of the later Schelling). For
Kant, however, this split in freedom against itself could not be remedied, but
human agents could entertain the rational hope that their flawed attempts
to uproot evil would ultimately be graced:
It is a fundamental principle that, to become a better human being,

everyone must do as much as it is in his power to do; and only then, if a
human being has not buried his innate talent (Luke 19: 12–16), if he has
made use of the original predisposition to the good in order to become
a better human being, can he hope that what does not lie in his power
will be made good by cooperation from above.
(RGV 52)
What are the effects of the radical corruption that Kant detects in the
power of choice? The most invasive of these is that Kant must reject the
possibility of holiness: if the propensity to evil cannot be uprooted, the will
of a human being will never be perfectly aligned with morality. As such,
human beings relate to morality as a ‘duty’. When reflecting upon the sig-
nificance of this on a broader scale, Kant remarks that aspiring towards a
‘holy community’ of ‘perfect moral beings’ is somewhat laughable just as the
hopes for the establishment of a perfect political community give cause for
satire: “Philosophical chiliasm, which hopes for a state of perpetual peace
based on a federation of nations united in a world republic, as much as
theological chiliasm, which awaits for the completed moral improvement of

the human race, is universally derided as sheer fantasy [als Schwärmerei all-
gemein verlacht wird]” (RGV 6:34). While Kant’s language in the Religion-
schrift can be confusing at times, he reminds his readers that the lot of finite
agents is to be always at a distance from moral perfection: “The battle that
every morally well-disposed human being must withstand in this life [. . .]
can procure him [. . .] no greater advantage than freedom from the dominion
of evil [. . .]. He still remains not any the less exposed to the assaults of the
evil principle” (RGV 6:93). There is categorically no possibility of extirpat-
ing the propensity to evil. Whenever Kant alludes to such a thing, he has in
mind something like a ‘focus imaginarius’: “A point from which the concepts
of the understanding do not really proceed, since it lies entirely outside the
bounds of possible experience—nonetheless still serves to obtain for these
concepts the greatest unity alongside the greatest extension [die größte Ein-
heit neben der größten Ausbreitung]” (B 672 / A 644).
To put things in slightly less Kantian terminology: moral virtue consists
of the overcoming of the propensity to prioritize sensuous inclinations
over the moral law. Even more succinctly: to be good means overcoming
the temptation of being evil. Does this not in some way imply that evil is
prior to goodness? Does this not suggest that the allure of evil is necessary
for moral virtue? We will return to how this resonates with Schopenhau-
er’s philosophy, but first the images that Kant uses with respect to moral
choice suggest such a thing: moral choice always takes place at a “cross-
roads [Scheidewege]” (GMS 400); or, moral decision happens with respect
to a “counterweight [Gegengewicht]” (GMS 405). In an earlier work that
Kant references in his Religionsschrift (RGV 22n), Negative Magnitudes,
Kant discerns between two types of opposition: logical (non A / A) and real
opposition (– A / + A). He emphasizes that evil cannot be the mere lack of
good (non A), but must be the opposition to the good (- A): “The lack of
the agreement of the power of choice with [the good] is possible only as the
consequence of a real and opposite determination of the power of choice,
i.e. of a resistance on its part, = –A; or again, it is only possible through an
evil power of choice” (RGV 22n).
Kant’s reasons for emphasizing the reality of evil are clear. Even though
he is an Enlightenment philosopher who recognizes the authority of rational
autonomy, he admits to the radical potential of evil as well. In a manner
of speech, one could say that he is son to Leibniz and Luther both, since
he understands the impressive potential of rationality but also the radical
fallibility of human achievement. From this, it would stand to reason that
Kant can give birth to two sons, Hegel and Schopenhauer, depending upon
which side of the coin is emphasized. Hegel took the normativity of rational
autonomy to heart and believed that the self-developmental process of his-
torical rationality could ultimately reconcile the diremption between human
finitude and rational autonomy. In Hegel’s view, Kant’s philosophy remained
trapped in the abstract, austere dualism of the understanding (Verstand) and
would have done well to introduce the historical dialectics of reason (Ver-
nunft) to reconcile this opposition. Specifically on the subject of evil, Hegel
argues in §139–141 of his Philosophy of Right that Kant’s ethics renders
ethical life into the “sheer inwardness of the will”, which results in either
of two options, namely to “[make] the absolutely universal its principle” or
to “[elevate] above the universal the self-will of private particularity”.27 For
Hegel, such a position is untenable since it damns the human being to remain
in a perennial opposition between good and evil while the transition from
abstract right to ethical life (the family, civil society and the state) allows for
the world historical self-development of the good: “The realm of fact has
discarded its barbarity and unrighteous caprice, while the realm of truth
has abandoned the world of beyond and its arbitrary force, so that that true
reconciliation which discloses the state as the image and actuality of reason
has become objective”.28
Hegel’s philosophy aims to ‘overcome’ the Kantian dualism, but another
philosopher renowned for promoting the idea of ‘overcoming’ is Nietzsche.
Nietzsche’s philosophy can be seen as a diagnosis of Western culture and
a cure for the disease. Without entering into too much detail, Nietzsche
emphasizes that we ought to overcome our human-all-too-human ways of
promoting weakness and servitude in favor of the life-affirming expression
of the will. In between Kant’s appeal to overcome our tendencies towards
immorality and Nietzsche’s call to rally behind the Übermensch, there is
Schopenhauer’s pessimism.
4.2 Schopenhauer’s Wille as the Metaphysicalization of Rebellion

Schopenhauer’s Kantian focal point is not the normativity of autonomy, or
the architectonics of rationality, or the potential hope for self-reconciliation
throughout a historical process, but the deep recalcitrance towards ratio-
nality and morality in the human will. In fact, Schopenhauer himself admits
that the starting point of his philosophical reflections is the distinction Kant
draws in the theoretical antinomy between empirical and intelligible char-
acter (WWV1 595): the former is characterized by a profound opposition
to the rational legislation of the latter. Obviously, Kant’s moralized sense of
this recalcitrance is out of place in Schopenhauer’s more naturalistic and
amoral metaphysics, but this has nevertheless prepared for Schopenhauer’s
voraciously self-expressive will. The term that I would use to this effect is
that Schopenhauer’s philosophy is a metaphysicalization of Kant’s notion of
self-willed rebellion to rationality.29
Contemporary scholars of Schopenhauer’s philosophy have a tendency to
simply assume that Schopenhauer’s notion of will—moreover, his metaphys-
ics of will—is not at all inspired by any previous philosophical system, despite
all the respect Schopenhauer showered over Descartes, Locke, Spinoza and
especially Kant. For one, Christopher Janaway influentially notes that
[. . .] in the history of the concept of will, Schopenhauer’s intervention

is idiosyncratic and perturbing. He does not simply take a pre-existing
conception and give it an unwonted importance; he takes the word Wille
and proposes for it a use that is revolutionary and far from straightfor-
ward.30
While there is some clear and decisive influence of (a particular reading

of) Kant on Schopenhauer’s epistemology, this does not in any obvious
sense rub off on his notion of will or on his metaphysics. Many claim that
Schopenhauer has no relationship to Kant in his understanding of will, such
as John Atwell, who suggests the following: “Schopenhauer sharply distin-
guishes the will from the intellect, arguing again and again that the will is not
cognitive or rational or intellectual, that there is no such thing as a ‘rational
will’ (contrary to Kant)”.31 With regard to moral theory in particular, many
readers would agree that, in the words of Louis Dupré, “Schopenhauer’s
moral theory may owe more to Plato, the Upanishads, or Buddhism than to
German Idealism”.32 A number of scholars even take this issue one step fur-
ther and blame Schopenhauer for inviting misunderstanding by calling the
essence of the world ‘will’, a term so laden with connotation at a time dom-
inated by German idealism. So, Bryan Magee emphasizes that “[Schopen-
hauer by choosing the name will] made inevitable the misunderstandings he
is trying to ward off [. . .] Any innocuous name would have avoided it. The
term ‘force’, rejected by him, would have been vastly preferable. ‘Energy’
would have been better still”.33
Schopenhauer believes, however, that he would be misunderstood if
“anyone [thinks] that it is ultimately a matter of indifference whether the
word will or some other word is used to designate the essence in itself of
all appearance” (WWV1 132). As such, he is adamant about using the term
‘will’, and lets his readers known that he assigns to it “a broader scope
than it has had before” (WWV1 132).34 From this, it can be gathered that
Schopenhauer desired to correct the contemporary understanding of will
by once again relating it to an element of arbitrariness. The charitable read-
ing of Schopenhauer’s metaphysics would then have to inquire what kind
of notion of ‘will’ to which Schopenhauer assigns a ‘broader scope’; or
which aspects of the human will Schopenhauer finds to be the most genuine
expression of the human will. Remember that Schopenhauer argues from the
immediate familiarity with the human will, which he extends towards the in
itself of all of reality. There is, according to Schopenhauer, an element in the
human will which is the perfect expression of the in itself of all of reality.
This is the element to which Kant has given the name ‘the radical propensity
to evil’ but that will be de-moralized by Schopenhauer’s philosophy as the
self-expressive, a-teleology of willing.
Schopenhauer metaphysicalizes Kant’s depraved power of choice and
through this a natural philosophical evolution ensues wherein there is a
decline of normativity in the rational will. Accordingly, we end up in Schopen-
hauer with an all-powerful faculty of choice that self-expresses without the

normative control and restraint offered by rationality. What if, namely, this
kind of rebellion is a more intimate and authentic aspect of willing than the
normative restraint enforced by noumenal rationality? Why would rational-
ity be more authentic than blind self-expression? If rationality experiences
so much opposition (as Kant believed) in wresting its way into the conative
life of human beings, then why would that rationality be the essential aspect
of what it means to be human? Kant understood that opposition very well
and felt forced to invite religion and God into his system of autonomous
ethics so as to architectonically bring this to a close; in order to allow the
rational hope for a victory over evil, Kant employed several foci imaginarii
that would provide coherence to moral life. But perhaps there is no coher-
ence to be found in moral and rational existence? Perhaps all the necessary
rational ideas Kant felt forced to postulate to make good on the categorical
imperative—rational autonomy, the immortality of the soul, the existence of
God, a moral religion, divine grace—are but wishful thinking?
When such a vein of thought is entertained, one could ponder whether
there really is any sense to make of a ‘moral depravity’ if one lacks a real
counterpart, a possible highest good, to contrast it with. While obviously
Kant still acknowledges the rational necessity of a possible highest good,
this highest good is probably most aptly described as a necessary imaginary
focus of reason to direct moral agency. Such rational postulations lose their
self-evidence when it gradually dawns that reason is losing its normative
foothold in the world, and we are left with nothing but a radical depravity
from which there is no escape. To Schopenhauer, rationality is but an off-
spring of a blind will to life that tries to cope with existence in all its horror
and agony: its postulations are no more than wishful fictions, and not abso-
lutely necessary, universal notions.
Odd as it may sound, Kant facilitated this evolution by implicitly hold-
ing that rationality is a force that seriously has to compete for hegemony
over the natural agent. Natural agents are bereft of any incentive towards
rationality, since their power of choice is deprived of innate goodness: the
incentive towards morality must be built up from the confrontation with
the moral law. Most overtly, Kant shows this by pointing to an incessant
and prevalent tendency of the human agent to rebel against reason and its
strict limits. Human beings do this theoretically by overstepping the bounds
of possible knowledge, practically by preferring sensuous caprice over the
universal moral law and religiously by preferring statutory or counterfeit
service to God over moral service. To Kant, human agents are not naturally
inclined to be rational, but must be brought in line with rationality. Ratio-
nality is only one, rather weak, interest of the human agent. Accordingly,
one cannot help but to assume that already in Kant’s philosophy the ratio-
nal is not the most intimate aspect of the human agent and ‘something else’
must precede rationality. Schopenhauer took this sense of anti-rationalism
to the next level by numerous principles. He eschews any and all “precepts
or a doctrine of duty” or “unconditional ought” (WWV1 320); there are

no “guiding lights” or “absolutes” that would lead humanity towards its
alleged vocation (WWV2 90, 159, 206); and nature itself is naught but
“internal rupture” (WWV1 174). While there is some intimacy with the
hidden essence of being, we constantly feel displaced and foreign in a world
that offers no guidance. In this light, Schopenhauer could be read as piercing
through a rational naiveté that still enthralled Kant: rationality is one way
of coping with reality, but ultimately there is only will expressing itself, and
certainly there is no universally valid reason to prefer a ‘rational’ over a
‘sensuous’ expression of this will.
By miring humanity in a depravity from which there is no escape, Kant
unwillingly prepared for Schopenhauer’s pessimistic evaluation of human
life. Kant himself thought about the profound human quest to become dis-
tanced of that natural condition of man in a fashion not at all dissimilar to
Luther, namely to leave behind the depraved Flesh for something else (faith
or reason).35 The customary resources that Kant returned to, such as respect
for the eminence of rationality and the moral education of religion, are no
longer an option for Schopenhauer, given that both have lost their intrinsic
credibility. For Schopenhauer, there is ‘nothing’ beyond the will that can
facilitate humanity’s salvation and, ironically, this ‘nothing’ is that which
might be thought of as coming to save the day. Therefore, Schopenhauer is
necessitated to erect a system of ethics and moral motivation of the likes that
the world has never seen. In the next chapter, I will detail in what manner
Schopenhauer perceived it to be possible to—within his epistemological and
metaphysical strictures—still engage in morality, and what, if anything, it
could still mean to hold on to a notion of a ‘highest good’. These reflections
will take place within the framework here established, namely a strong sense
of the natural recalcitrance towards redemption that can be overcome only
through a radical revolution.
Notes
1. Dennis Vanden Auweele, ‘New Perspective on Schopenhauer’s Ontology of Will’.
In: Schopenhauer-Jahrbuch 94 (2013) 31–52.
2. F.W.J. Schelling, The Grounding of Positive Philosophy: The Berlin Lectures.
Translated by Bruce Matthews (New York: State University of New York Press,
2007), p. 155 [95].
3. Ibid., p. 149 [86).
4. Christopher Janaway, ‘Will and Nature’. In: The Cambridge Companion to
Press, 1999), p. 139; cf. John Atwell, Schopenhauer on the Character of the World.
The Metaphysics of Will (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), pp. 32–52.
5. Schelling, 2007, pp. 128–131 [56–62].
6. For Schopenhauer, scepticism is an opponent to philosophy that can never be
disproven, but ultimately cannot harm philosophy. In his words, “Philosophy is
not capable of the same kind of evidentness found in mathematics, no more so
than a human being is capable of animal feats of instinct, which also proceed
with a priori certainty. Therefore, scepticism will always be able to lay itself in
the other scale in relation to any system, but its weight will eventually become
so minor relative to the other that it no longer hams it” (PP2 12).
7. Since it is beyond the scope of this work to give full detail of Romanticism (which
requires, at least, another monograph), I refer the reader to two highly relevant
works on Romanticism: Manfred Frank, The Philosophical Foundations of Early
German Romanticism. Translated by Elizabeth Millán-Zaibert (New York: State
University of New York Press, 2004); The Relevance of Romanticism: Essays
on German Romantic Philosophy. Edited by Dalia Nassar (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2014).
8. Bruce Matthews, ‘The New Mythology: Romanticism between Religion and
Humanism’. In: The Relevance of Romanticism: Essays on German Romantic
Philosophy. Edited by Dalia Nassar (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014),
p. 202.
9. Julian Young, Schopenhauer (London: Routledge Publishing, 2005), pp. 54–56.
10. John Atwell, Schopenhauer on the Character of the World: The Metaphysics of
Will (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), p. 90 ff.; cf. Cheryl Foster,
‘Ideas and Imagination’. in: The Cambridge Companion to Schopenhauer. Edited
by Christopher Janaway (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), p. 223.
11. Atwell, 1995, p. 94.
12. Allen Wood, Kant’s Moral Religion (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1970),
p. 26.
13. David Hume, Dialogues concerning Natural Religion: And Other Writings.
Edited by Dorothy Coleman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007).
The similarities in both style and argument between Hume and Schopenhauer
have been noted by numerous scholars, but, to date, this has not received exten-
sive attention.
14. Ibid., p. 87.
15. Ibid., p. 89.
16. Allen Wood, ‘Kant’s Compatibilism’. In: Self and Nature in Kant’s Philosophy.
Edited by Allen Wood (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1984), pp. 73–101.
17. A rather humorous example of teleology can be found in Schopenhauer’s dis-
cussion of facial hair in human beings. The final cause or purpose of facial
hair is to conceal the pathognomic changes (i.e., the exterior visibility of inner
dispositions) in men. He claims that in situations of “negotiations and sudden
incidents” (WWV2 382) it is best to hide your disposition from the “prying
glance [Späherblicke] of an adversary” (WWV2 382). Accordingly, women
“could dispense with [facial hair]; for dissimulation and self-control (counte-
nance) are inborn in her” (WWV2 382). While Schopenhauer does maintain a
negative point of view with regard to women’s aptitude towards philosophy, he
is not at all without appreciation for women. Accordingly, he approvingly quotes
one further unspecified poet ‘Jouy’ (probably the 18th–19th-century French dra-
matist Victor-Joseph Étienne de Jouy): “Sans les femmes, le commencement de
notre vie seroit privé de secours, le milieu de plaisirs, et la fin de consolation”
(PP2 650).
18. For discussion: Stephan Atzert, Im Schatten Schopenhauers: Nietzsche, Deussen
und Freud (Würzburg: Königshausen und Neumann, 2015), pp. 129–144 and
145–163.
19. Peter Strawson, The Bounds of Sense, and Essay on Kant’s Critique of Pure
Reason (London: Metheun, 1966), p. 209.
20. In a later work, Schopenhauer points out that human responsibility was neces-
sary to acquit God for any responsibility for human sins: either God has cre-
ated a bad world and is responsible for sin or God is impotent to create a
better world. Schopenhauer believes that this conclusion cannot be avoided,
but Christian philosophers have been very industrious in trying to avoid it. One
author who made the above claim, Lucilio Vanini, was executed because “to be
sure it was easier to burn Vanini than to refute him” (PP2 390).
21. Sandra Shapshay, ‘Schopenhauer’s Early Fourfold Root and the Ghost of
Kantian Freedom’. In: Schopenhauer’s Fourfold Root. Edited by Jonathan Head
and Dennis Vanden Auweele (New York: Routledge, 2017), pp. 80–98 .
22. See also: Christopher Janaway, ‘Necessity, Responsibility and Character:
Schopenhauer on Freedom of the Will’. In: Kantian Review 17 (2012) 431–457.
23. For a similar argument: Margot Fleischer, Schopenhauer als Kritiker der
Kantische Ethik (Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, 2003), pp. 37–46.
24. Schopenhauer notes his own accord with Kant at UWS 49. He approvingly cites
Idea for a Universal History from a Cosmopolitan Point of View (IaG 17), the
First Critique (B 577–578 / A 549–550) and the Second Critique (KpV 99).
25. For a more extensive discussion of Kant’s account of evil: Dennis Vanden
Auweele, ‘The Lutheran Influence on Kant’s Depraved Will’. In: International
Journal for Philosophy of Religion 73 (2013) 117–134; Id., ‘The Enduring
Relevance of Kant’s Analysis of (Radical) Evil’. In: Bijdragen: International
Journal for Philosophy and Theology 73 (2012) 121–142.
26. Peter Dews, The Idea of Evil (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2013), p. 22.
27. G.W.F. Hegel, Philosophy of Right. Translated by Thomas Malcolm Knox (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1967), p. 92 [139].
28. Ibid., p. 222 [360].
29. Elsewhere, I made this argument more comprehensively: Vanden Auweele, 2013. At
that time, I had opted to use the terms ‘ontologization’ and ‘to ontologize’ so as to
describe the relationship between Schopenhauer’s metaphysics of will and Kant’s
transcendental anthropology. I did so considering some of misleading connotations
‘metaphysicalization’ and ‘to metaphysicalize’ might have given Schopenhauer’s
understanding of and hesitations with regard to metaphysics. Since these have been
spelled out above, I feel I can use the more accurate term ‘metaphysicalization’ now.
30. Janaway, 1999, p. 138.
31. Atwell, 1995, p. 26; cf. Bryan Magee, The Philosophy of Arthur Schopenhauer
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1983), p. 119 ff.; Robert Wicks, Schopenhauer
(Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2008), p. 53 ff.; Young, 2005, p. 53 ff.
32. Dupré, 2013, p. 199.
33. Magee, 1983, pp. 143–144. Julian Young nevertheless defends Schopenhauer’s
decision not to name his work ‘The World as Energy and Representation’. Young
suggests that Schopenhauer’s use of the term will is used as an extended refer-
ence, not an extended meaning (Young, 1987, pp. 65 ff.) which seems consistent
with Schopenhauer’s own insistence on his chosen term (WWV1 132–133).
34. See also: Sandra Shapshay, ‘Poetic Intuition and the Bounds of Sense: Metaphor
and Metonymy in Schopenhauer’s Philosophy’. In: European Journal of
Philosophy 16 (2008) 211–229.
35. This argument has been made in full elsewhere: Dennis Vanden Auweele, ‘The
Lutheran Influence on Kant’s Depraved Will’. In: International Journal for the
Philosophy of Religion 73 (2013) 117–134.
4 Schopenhauer on Ethics and Action
Schopenhauer’s metaphysical and epistemological position requires him to

formulate a system of ethics that profoundly differs from its Kantian pre-
cursor. Schopenhauer’s moral philosophy can be nevertheless read as organ-
ically grown from certain Kantian premises. Kant argues that the only one
thing unconditionally good is the good will, i.e., taking up the duty to act
rationally out of respect for this duty alone. So as to make good on this basic
duty (i.e., to make it possible and persuasive), reason postulates something
akin to a practical metaphysics or practical theology. This practical theology
serves to objectively validate our moral duty and consists of the notion of
autonomy (negative and positive), and the postulates of the existence of God
and the immortality of the soul. Granted that morality is objectively speak-
ing the proper and valid course of action, the human agent is still as a finite
embodied being not naturally inclined to submit to morality. Therefore, the
pursuit of morality must also be subjectively validated by moral education
through aesthetics and a properly reformed religion.
The Schopenhauerian framework of the ground and motivation for moral-
ity does not structurally differ all that much from the Kantian framework—
granted, the elements or building blocks of this framework differ immensely.
In consequence of his epistemology and metaphysics, Schopenhauer must
necessarily redefine what Kant takes to be ‘the highest good’ and he must,
moreover, eschew any moralized talk of a normative ‘highest good’ or ‘abso-
lutes’. A normative sense of a highest good conflicts with some of the basic
tenets of his philosophy, namely, on the one hand, that the ‘in itself’ of reality
is irrational and, on the other hand, that the very notion of a moral duty
does not make sense since morality principally refers to a kind of freedom
that cannot be reconciled with the notion of normativity (‘how can you call
a will free and yet prescribe laws to it?’). Accordingly, the highest good must
be redefined as ‘the ideal condition of a human agent’, which Schopenhauer
defines as a state free from suffering (Section 1). This state is reached par-
tially and imperfectly by means of compassion, religion and art. Through
philosophical asceticism, this state is reached completely and perfectly.
Human agents are naturally propelled to undo their own suffering—and
all suffering that they identify as their own—by sating certain whims and
Schopenhauer on Ethics and Action 119
desires (affirmation) or undoing desire itself (negation). Accordingly, there is
for Schopenhauer a natural tool to ‘motivate’ moral agency, namely ‘disgust’
towards suffering (Section 2). The natural course of action to accomplish
this is not effective and a radically different approach to human desire is
necessary, namely as the negation of the will. This negation provides the
more robust form of ‘highest good’. The first epiphany of the denial of the
will to life through knowledge is compassion (Section 3)
Section 1: The Highest Good—Redefined

This section addresses how Schopenhauer redefines what the highest good
could be and mean after his critique of Kantian philosophy. Not many
authors see any significant influence of Kant on Schopenhauer’s ethics, but,
as I have argued above, Schopenhauer’s metaphysics can be read as a rad-
ical metaphysicalization of Kant’s moral anthropology. The ramifications
of this for Schopenhauer’s view of ethics are invasive. First, Schopenhauer
dismisses practical reason in the Kantian sense, namely as the ability to
autonomously will something, in order to propose a more cognition-based
sense of practical reason (1.1). In doing so, he radically alters the Kantian
conception of a ‘highest good’ and opts to give this concept ‘emeritus’ status
as the will’s self-abnegation. In other words, the highest good (or supreme
good) is no longer Kant’s virtue for virtue’s sake (KPV 110–111) but the
complete absence of suffering through the self-destruction of the will (1.2).
From this, Schopenhauer develops a significantly different perspective on
human desire (1.3).
1.1 Practical Reason—Redefined

The idea of a ‘practical philosophy’ which started in Germany with Leibniz,
Baumgarten and Wolff found its philosophical high point in Kant’s moral
philosophy. Basically, practical philosophy is an area of philosophy, related
but distinguished from theoretical philosophy, which investigates in what
way the will can develop morally by prescribing certain moral impera-
tives. To put it more concisely: theoretical philosophy is concerned with ‘is’
and practical philosophy is concerned with ‘ought’. For Kant, the ‘ought’
had impressive ramifications on the ‘is’ since, through the principle ‘ought
implies can’, he felt enabled to propose a moral metaphysics of practical
postulates (moral virtue, freedom of the will, immortality of the soul and
existence of God). Schopenhauer is, however, very quick to denounce the
history of practical philosophy because
philosophy is always theoretical, since what is essential to it that it treats

and investigates its subject-matter (whatever that may be) in a purely
contemplative manner, describing without prescribing. On the other
hand, for it to become practical, guide action, shape character—these
are longstanding demands, and mature insight should encourage us to
give them up once and for all.
(WWV1 319)
Schopenhauer does not believe that philosophy as such can become practi-
cal in the traditional sense by having immediate effect on the will: only the
will itself, and its motives, can bend the will. Schopenhauer could then be
suspected to refrain from erecting any ethical system since reason cannot
guide action.
Ironically, very few philosophers have been quite as moralizing as Schopen-
hauer and large parts of his oeuvre are even dedicated to prudence and
morality (in particular the texts that brought him his long-awaited acclaim
such as the Aphorismen zur Lebensweisheit). Schopenhauer often goes
on rants about how his contemporaries abuse such things as philosophy
(PP1 149–210), education (PP2 509–520), thinking (PP2 521–531), writing
(PP2 532–587) and even reading (PP2 588–598). But if reality is utterly lack-
ing in an absolute good and all supposed freedom to act otherwise is illusory,
how can one still speak about certain approaches as right or wrong? Given
his de-rationalization of reality, is Schopenhauer not supposed to turn to a
sense of relativist perspectivism?
Schopenhauer’s counterpoint would be that he is suggesting a remark-
ably different way of approaching ethics than the traditional view (he could
have been clearer about this subject though!). Whereas philosophers prior to
Schopenhauer focused on shaping and cultivating ethical character (through
insight or education), Schopenhauer believes that there is no such thing as
freedom of the will and that the human character cannot be altered. The
only objects that have an effect on human behavior and are susceptible to
change are the motives with which a human agent is confronted. As detailed
more fully above (chapter three), inorganic life is susceptive only to causal
influence, while organic life can also be influenced by stimuli. Animal, and
especially human, beings have the ability to be sensitive to abstract influ-
ences, namely motives. These motives are ‘causality that has gone through
cognition’, which means that they operate on an abstract level in an iden-
tical fashion as ‘causes’ and ‘stimuli’. As such, certain abstract motives can
be afforded to the human being that alter its behavior in a similar way
as the rolling of a stone can be stopped by an overpowering cause (e.g.,
a brick wall). There is thus a form of practical reason in Schopenhauer’s
philosophy where certain insights—that can obviously be presented or even
taught to human beings—overpower in motivational force other motives.
If you do not want someone to act upon a certain motive, you have to
present them with a different, more powerful, motive that overpowers the
first one. Schopenhauer believes that human beings can even be motivated
by abstract insight alone (if it turns intuitive). Abstract insight is originally
in the service of the will to life, but this can develop to such an extent that
pure insight could even completely drown out any other motivation. This
is what he calls ‘knowledge silencing the will’. Regrettably, Schopenhauer
does not fully conceptualize this theory of abstract agency anywhere, but
only hints at it in a select number of passages: “Reason is expressing itself
practically: where reason guides deeds, where abstract concepts furnish the
motive, where deeds are not determined by individual intuitive representa-
tions or the impressions of the moment that guide animals—this is where
practical reason shows itself” (WWV1 102).
Practical reason is then for Schopenhauer neither a freely incorporated
maxim or moral character training, but guidance by abstract insights

towards (in)agency. This means, however, that Schopenhauer’s sense of prac-
tical reason is exhaustively based upon cognition: abstract motives guide
behavior. At times, Schopenhauer puts this very emphatically: “The will to
life itself cannot be suppressed by anything except cognition” (WWV1 474).
This could give reason to think that Schopenhauer, like Kant, entertains two
forms of motivation, namely one based upon sensuous motives and the other
upon rational interest. Given Schopenhauer’s naturalism, the distinction
between these cannot be one of quality, but merely of strength. Cognition
that leads towards resignation must equally appeal to or interest the human
agent in such a way that it overpowers any natural motivation towards hap-
piness. Schopenhauer has a monistic sense of motivation, both for natural
and moral motivation. Certain motives impact upon the will to life either in
its service or towards its negation. In Schopenhauer’s theory of action, there
is no fundamental difference between affirmation and negation—obviously,
there is a remarkable difference in the effects of affirmative and negative
motives.
The paradox here is obvious: the cognition involved in negation would
have to be something that appeals in some way to the will. In other words,
even negation ought to have motivational force, while Schopenhauer does
seem to suggest that motivational force always relates to the will to life.
Cognition that leads to the negation of the will would paradoxically make
us interested in being disinterested or make us desire to be without desire.
Such cognition cannot well up from the affirmation of the will, but must
come from outside. The will to life cannot give rise to the cognition that
leads towards its self-abnegation. Schopenhauer concisely puts this as fol-
lows when describing the negation of the will to life: “The particular, known
appearances no longer act as motives for willing, but instead, cognition of
the essence of the world (which mirrors the will)—cognition that has arisen
by grasping the Ideas—becomes a tranquilizer of the will and the will freely
abolishes itself” (WWV1 336). This quote adequately signals the tension: the
cognition acts upon the will, which induces the will to abolish itself.
In this light, Schopenhauer’s relationship to Stoicism might be helpful.
Schopenhauer’s general view is that abstract cognition principally relates to
empirical cognition (abstract ideas always relate to intuitions), but that these
can dislodge by means of which “human beings lead a second, abstract life
alongside our concrete life” (WWV1 101). By living in the abstract, human
beings are enabled to experience a sense of equanimity (Gelassenheit) in the
face of things that natural beings would find quite unsettling. To Schopen-
hauer, such equanimity signals that abstract motives have the unique capac-
ity to render natural interests devoid of emotional response. In other words,
reason and abstract considerations specifically can make the trials and trib-
ulations of life neutral to our being. This capacity is, however, a far cry
from rendering human beings moral: “Rational action and virtuous action
are two completely different things” (WWV1 102). Schopenhauer’s general
analysis of Stoicism is then remarkably positive: “Stoic ethics is in fact a very

valuable and estimable attempt to adapt that great privilege of humanity,
reason, to an important and salutary end, namely that of raising us above the
suffering and pain that every life encounters” (WWV1 107). Schopenhauer
is then in general accord with Stoicism that abstract motivation and rational
reflection are the ways to lead humanity to a higher purpose or destiny.
The more comprehensively informed and truth-based a certain course
of action is, the more estimable that action becomes. As such, the highest
good would be agency that is motivated by the most comprehensive form of
abstract insight that is no longer in the service of the will to life. An inter-
esting consequence of this is that accountability seems, for the most part,
to disappear in Schopenhauer’s ethics. After all, knowledge is somewhat of
an elitist concept, and no one can really be held accountable for not acting
in the most metaphysically informed manner possible if one simply lacks
the insight to do so. The ‘good’ thus becomes a concept that lacks what is
traditionally called normativity: no one ‘ought’ to pursue it, but people are
best off pursuing it because the highest good leads to a state free of suffering.
The good is based on truth, not morality. This puts some distance between
Schopenhauer’s philosophy and nihilism: certain objects can be good in a
non-normative sense and certain courses of action are better than others, i.e.,
those that are more fully metaphysically informed.
At the end of his Freedom Essay, Schopenhauer does note that freedom
is very real for him, but that “true moral freedom” is of “a higher kind”
(BGE 93). He takes a Kantian turn and claims that from “the wholly clear
and sure feeling of responsibility for what we do, of accountability for our
actions, which rests on the unshakable certainty that we ourselves are the
doers of our deeds” (BGE 93). But, again, this feeling of responsibility relates
to the fact that we could have been someone else—but we are not. We experi-
ence an equivocal form of freedom through our participation in the in itself,
which is totally free. None of that, however, rubs off on individual beings.
Schopenhauer merely explains why we think that we are free—because we
participate in the free self-expression of the will—but does not give support
for the claim that we are free. In fact, he says that freedom is “not removed
by my presentation, but merely pushed out, that is out of the realm of indi-
vidual actions where it is demonstrably not to be encountered” (BGE 98).
The behaviour of individuals does not change because of ‘inexplicable free-
dom’, which would make “each human action would be an inexplicable
miracle [unerklärliches Wunder]—an effect without cause” (BGE 45–46),
but because new motives impact upon the individual. Basically, this means
that knowing some things, which ideally are truthful things, can impact our
behavior.
To expose human beings to such ‘truth’, whether through art, religion
or philosophy, is no mean feat and some might prefer to live in the kind of
comforting illusions that even Descartes found himself continuously falling
back into:
But this is an arduous undertaking, and a kind of laziness brings me

back to normal life. I am like a prisoner who is enjoying an imaginary
freedom while asleep; as he begins to suspect that he is asleep, he dreads
being woken up, and goes along with the pleasant illusion as long as
he can. In the same way, I happily slide back into my old opinions and
dread being shaken out of them, for fear that my peaceful sleep may be
followed by hard labor when I wake, and that I shall have to toil not
in the light, but amid the inextricable darkness of the problems I have
now raised.1
Schopenhauer remains, to the end of his life, utterly zealous in continuously

confronting people with the truth. One example of this is how Schopenhauer
laments that education and learning is—he is speaking of 19th-century Ger-
many, but the same could apply to much of 21st-century Europe—does not
aim at knowledge or truth, but at usefulness and profit: “The masters teach
in order to earn money and they do not strive for truth, but for its appear-
ance and standing; the pupils do not learn in order to attain knowledge and
insight, but in order to babble and give themselves airs” (PP2 509). Schopen-
hauer finds such an attitude towards learning highly disrespectful to the
highest possible goal of human existence, namely the truth. While he does
believe that knowledge should be dispensed by means of the most appro-
priate way of communication, he believes that deception is always to be
avoided. As such, he is still steps away from being the profound psychologist
Nietzsche will be. Often in his reflections upon Schopenhauer’s philosophy,
Nietzsche questions the value of truth if this would lead to life-denying pes-
simism. While Schopenhauer acknowledges a certain laziness, complacency
and sometimes forceful resistance against the truth in all human beings, he
does not consider Nietzsche’s point that the will to deception might have
value, perhaps equal to the will to truth. In other words, Schopenhauer
remains perhaps slightly naive in his somewhat optimistic conviction that
deception is a privative aspect of humanity, and that truth will win out in
the end. Schopenhauer gives voice to this in his Parerga and Paralipomena:

(in contrast to the mere professorial or comic philosophy) that the will’s
(PP1 236)
Nietzsche argues, to the contrary, that the highly laborious pathos for truth
ought to combat an even more primal will to (self-)deception. In one par-
ticularly astute passage of Beyond Good and Evil, Nietzsche notes that:
“This will to appearances, to simplification, to masks, to cloaks, in short, to
surfaces—since every surface is a cloak—meets resistance from that sublime

tendency of the knower, who treats and wants to treat things in a profound,
multiple, thorough manner”.2 Nietzsche’s critique of the ‘will to truth’ plays
out on two battlegrounds: on the one hand, his well-known critique of phil-
osophical absolute Truth (in favor of perspectivism) but, on the other hand,
also the zealous will to truth that can prove to be a dreadful impediment for
the creative love of life. Too much knowledge can render an agent unable
to move.3 But this is exactly what Schopenhauer is trying to accomplish: he
seeks to introduce such comprehensive knowledge of the ultimate futility of
all agency that the agent is moved to self-abnegation, which is the summum
of his philosophy.
1.2 The Kantian Good—Redefined

At the end of the previous section, we pointed out that practical reason (for
Schopenhauer) ideally navigates human beings towards the truth (and ulti-
mately towards the negation of the will to life). The reason for this, as will
be explored more fully below, is that the negation or denial of the will to life
can properly provide human beings with release from suffering. Would this
imply that practical reason, for Schopenhauer and Kant, navigates towards
a ‘good’ where, for Schopenhauer, this ‘good’ is the release from suffering?
And if so, would this make Schopenhauer’s philosophy eudemonistic?
From one perspective, Schopenhauer’s philosophy is eudemonistic, but
from another it is not. Human beings are naturally predisposed to seek enjoy-
ment through the fulfillment of certain specific desires. In fact, Schopenhauer
believes that this mode of living has become the dominant moral philosophy,
i.e., to “enjoy the present moment” as the “greatest wisdom because the
present alone is real” (PP2 284; cf. WWV2 655–657). In Schopenhauer’s
view, this signals how eudemonism has taken root in philosophical reflection
and common society, i.e., to strive for the highest possible happiness at every
present moment. Schopenhauer even believes that Kant, who supposedly
banished eudemonism from ethics, ultimately returned to the view that hap-
piness is the highest achievement of human life:
Kant would have banished eudemonism from ethics more in appearance

than in reality. For he still leaves open a secret connection between vir-
tue and happiness, in his doctrine of the highest good, where they come
together in a dark, out of the way chapter, while in the open virtue treats
happiness as a stranger.
(BGE 118)
But does Schopenhauer not attempt to achieve exactly the same thing as the
eudemonist? In his view, happiness is the absence of suffering through the
fulfilling of desire; by undoing the root of desire itself, there is achieved a
perennial absence of suffering and therefore a sustained form of happiness.
Obviously, Schopenhauer will not denote such a state as ‘happiness’ because

happiness (like satisfaction) depends on meeting an object of desire. Instead,
Schopenhauer will describe the perpetual state of the absence of desire as
blissfulness (Säligkeit), peace (Friede), rest (Ruhe), cheerfulness (Heiterkeit),
joyfulness (Freudigkeit) or contentment (Zufriedenheit) (see: WWV1 442,
448, 461, 464). Principally, these differ from happiness only by their longev-
ity, and they are not phenomenologically distinct. Schopenhauer does distance
himself from the standard eudemonist attitude by pointing out that the latter
subscribes to a deeper layer of philosophical optimism that suggests that
through and by aspiring to happiness the agent is capable of living a worth-
while, stable and happy life. Schopenhauer is particularly adamant about
disproving this frame of thought, but ultimately does subscribe to the view
that the absence of suffering is the highest good for humanity. Before address-
ing this issue at length, we must turn to Schopenhauer’s assessment of the
normative authority of moral duties central to Kant’s practical philosophy.
Schopenhauer most extensively turns to Kant’s practical philosophy in his
Prize Essay on the Basis of Morality. Giving his scathing critique of Kant’s
moral philosophy there, in what sense can it be argued that Schopenhauer’s
moral philosophy is the end point of a line of thought started in Kant’s moral
anthropology? Schopenhauer’s critique of Kant has a Kantian origin: in fact,
Schopenhauer uses the tools of transcendental idealism to correct some of
Kant’s mistakes. The hallmark of this critique is the recalcitrance typical of
Kantian philosophy, on the one hand, towards external authority such as
theological ethics (or slavery to the passions) and, on the other hand, to the
autonomous maxims of reason themselves. Kant believes that human agents
rebel against both autonomy and heteronomy: the rational, autonomous
side of the agent refuses input from heteronomous sources in maxim-making
(such as God, nature, happiness) but the natural inclinations of the agent
resist autonomous, rational maxims. Kant is most often read as the propa-
gator of the former, namely the dismantling of what Schopenhauer describes
as how “the old support of ethics have [. . .] become rotten [morsch]”, but
Kant did remain confident “that morality itself can never sink” (BGE 112).
Kant remained hopeful that after destroying the traditional foundation of
morality—e.g., Christian ethics, which has its foundation in some sense of a
theology that proposed certain duties human beings have to God—he could
rebuild morality from the autonomy of the agent himself. But Kant’s critique
was not, in Schopenhauer’s view, carried through far enough!
Throughout modern philosophy, the theological way of framing the ground
of moral obligation had already become quite problematic. Nevertheless,
philosophers did not take this as a sign to abandon morality altogether,
but simply as a sign that its foundation lay elsewhere. Schopenhauer does
attribute the dismantling of theological ethics to Kant, most importantly by
Kant’s argument that the good should be determined a priori with reference
to human beings: “Kant’s great reform of morals”, i.e., in principle divorcing
morality from divinity, “gave this science a basis that had real advantages
over the previous ones” (BGE 114–115). Schopenhauer himself thus appears
to be initially attracted to Kant’s moral philosophy because Kant rejects theo-
logical ethics and eudaimonism both—ni dieu, ni plaîsir. However, Schopen-
hauer’s self-professed respect for Kant’s practical philosophy does not extend
beyond these initial reforms since “once [Kant] had expelled cruder errors”,
he and his followers went on with “relaxed confidence of incomprehension
[gelassenen Zuverlicht des Unverstandes]” to appeal to a “moral law that
allegedly dwells in our reason” without wondering whether “such a comfort-
able moral code, really stands inscribed in our head, breast or heart” (BGE
115–116). Schopenhauer somewhat callously states that Kant’s categorical
imperative is a “wholly unjustified, groundless and fictitious assumption”
(BGE 116). This implies that Schopenhauer cannot frame the highest good
in the typical Kantian sense of ‘virtue for virtue’s sake’, but must explore a
different, perhaps more naturalistic, sense of a highest good.
1.3 The Summum Bonum—Redefined

Schopenhauer’s theory of agency thus holds that abstract concepts can alter
behavior by acting as a motive or interest against the natural interest in the
affirmation of the will. Accordingly, Schopenhauer would be forced here
to define what is good as ‘informed agency’ while the bad is ‘uninformed
or natural agency’. Schopenhauer’s theory of agency is, however, further
complicated by the fact that he holds to a voluntaristic conception of worth.
Accordingly, knowledge as such cannot be in itself deigned to be good, but
only insofar as a particular will is attracted to that bit of knowledge. But
did not Schopenhauer declare himself that the highest good (even though
he uses the term metaphorically) would be a will that is numbed to sleep
through cognition, which means that no attraction whatsoever remains?
This paradox is clarified by the fact that even abstract cognition can pro-
vide solace only insofar as it first appeals to the will, by which the human
agent manages to enliven some form of interest in intuitively absorbing that
cognition. In other words, human beings need not only be fortunate enough
to be confronted with the appropriate knowledge, but also have the proper
character to be sensitive to that knowledge and intuitively absorb this. This
is the difference between ‘abstract’ and ‘intuitive’ knowledge.
To Schopenhauer, a ‘good’ is always “a relative thing” because “its essence
is to exist in relation to a desiring will” (WWV1 427). As a consequence,
there is no “absolute good”, which would bestow “final satisfaction to the
will” (WVV1 428). Since even abstract motives must appeal as a kind of
motive to a specific human agent (so as to become ‘intuitive’), there is noth-
ing that can be good in a sense absolved from any volition. One can, how-
ever, use the notion of a ‘highest good’ or ‘absolute good’ in a different sense,
namely as a state that relates to a certain human agent’s will but nevertheless
would be a desirable state for any agent to be in (insofar as they have the
proper information). Accordingly, Schopenhauer opts to recycle the con-
cept of a ‘highest good’ or ‘summum bonum’ as “the complete self-abolition

and negation of the will, the true absence of will, the only thing that can
staunch and appease the impulses of the will forever” (WVV1 428). He calls
this “giving [the concept of summum bonum] honorary or emeritus status”
(WVV1 428). Much like an emeritus professor or Pope does not fulfill all
the functions of a full professor or Pope, so does the honorary concept of
summum bonum not fulfill all relevant functions of the highest good.
What is implied in Schopenhauer’s reformulation of the highest good?
The philosophical tradition was wrong to ascribe certain purposes and ends
to the highest good that it is just incapable of fulfilling. That means that
Schopenhauer’s highest good is not a slimmed down or mitigated sense
of a highest good,4 but a critical reconsideration of the highest potential
achievement for humanity. Specifically, there are two functions the emeritus
summum bonum does not fulfill that it was traditionally thought of ful-
filling. First, Schopenhauer’s summum bonum is not a morally normative
principle that binds all rational agents to disinterestedly pursue it. In other
words, Schopenhauer renounces any moralized sense of a normative ought
in the highest good. This excludes any moral duties, moral responsibility
and, perhaps most importantly, moral blaming to be involved in reaching or
not reaching the highest goal of temporal existence. Second, Schopenhauer
reads Kant’s discussion of the summum bonum in the transcendental dialec-
tic of the Critique of Practical Reason, what Kant himself calls the consum-
mate or complete good, as the proportionate consummation of virtue with
happiness, in terms of a backdoor way into hedonism. For Schopenhauer,
this anti-eudemonist pessimist, this option is barred: the highest good is
not happiness in disguise, but the peaceful absence of suffering. For him,
the summum bonum is reached by certain agents as a consequence of them
being appropriately informed as well as receptive to this information. So as
to understand properly Schopenhauer’s emeritus highest good, it is helpful
to turn to his critique of Kant’s practical philosophy first, and afterwards to
show how Schopenhauer formats his counterproposal of an emeritus highest
good within the strictures of his epistemological and metaphysical system.
Paramount to grasp fully Schopenhauer’s ethics is to acknowledge that it
is based on an equivocal desire to pursue a course of action that is most
elaborately informed and accordingly would provide the best possible solace
from suffering. The way an agent is or becomes interested in the highest
good will be detailed in the following sections, but now we shall explore the
relationship that Schopenhauer’s highest good entertains to the foundational
principles behind Kant’s quest for a highest good.
Samuel Kerstein notes that Kant entertains four criteria in establishing the
supreme principle of morality in the Groundwork for the Metaphysics of
Morals,5 namely universality, agency, normativity and supremacy. In a nut-
shell, this means that the ground of morality should be a universal principle
(i.e., valid for everyone) that can and should be acted upon (should implies
can) and is the supreme principle of moral evaluation. Kant decides that the
‘good will’ or ‘autonomy’, i.e., a will that is motivated out of respect for duty,
is that supreme principle of morality. Schopenhauer takes issue with these
four criteria. With regards to universality, Kant believed that morality sub-
jects all rational agents to a certain code of conduct whether they be human,
extraterrestrial (granted they are rational), angelic or even divine. First of
all, Schopenhauer notes that Kant’s distinction between animal and human
beings is arbitrary and, rather than founded upon experience, it is derived
from certain superstitions. In Schopenhauer’s view, animals are equally
endowed with understanding: “[The universal form of the understanding]
exists a priori in animals” (WWV1 28). Schopenhauer’s naturalistic out-
look on metaphysics thus proves a first hurdle to the universality of rational
morality since Kant failed to extend moral duties beyond the boundaries
of humanity. In a way then, Schopenhauer makes morality even more uni-
versal than Kant. Second, morality binds, according to Kant, all rational
agents because the claims of rationality are universally respected. Schopen-
hauer’s naturalism reminds us that rationality is but one, of no special valid-
ity, expression of the will and thus is deserving of no particular, exclusive
respect. The rationality of a human being does not make him or her more
or less morally estimable. Third, Kant’s insistence on the universality of the
highest principle for morality implies that the categorical imperative cannot
be derived or verified from experience. At best, empirical observations pro-
vide generalizations, but never universal necessity. Schopenhauer, however,
believes that anything ‘real’ must necessarily relate to the empirical: “A true
philosophy cannot be spun out of mere abstract concepts, but instead must
be grounded on observation and experience, inner as well as outer [. . .]
Philosophy must have its source in the intuitive apprehension of the world”
(PP2 9). This implies that morality, if it is in fact something real, must take
effect empirically, not simply rationally. The moral incentive “announces
itself spontaneously, [. . .] has positive effect, and consequently is real; and
since for the human being only what is empirical, or at any rate what is
presupposed as possibly present empirically, has reality, the moral incentive
must in fact be an empirical one” (BGE 143).
With regard to the highest principle of morality being a principle of action,
Kant argued that, through reflection upon the highest good, a human agent
will inevitably know how to act. Accordingly, by discovering the highest
principle of morality, moral agency will turn into a mechanical process: the
proper course of action will become apparent if the relevant input is provided.
Schopenhauer initially will not take issue with this principle, considering
that his ‘highest good’ is basically ‘to be free from suffering’. Accordingly,
the highest good informs us about the proper course of action is, namely
to undertake those practices only that will result in the least amount of
suffering possible. Or better: whenever we adopt the suffering of someone
else as our own, we attempt to undo it. However, these practices are not uni-
vocally clear to human agents, and their attempts to meet the highest good
easily fall short. Only a select few individuals will be properly attuned to
obtain the highest and most lasting freedom from suffering (ascetics). More-
over, Schopenhauer blames Kant’s highest good for a “lack of substance”,
namely an “utter lack of reality and hence of possible efficacy” (BGE 143).
Since Kant’s moral principle is in no way abstracted from empirical reality,
one can also never ascertain whether anyone is ever moral: from a Kantian
perspective, it would be safer to assume that no one is ever moral else they
might become complacent. Therefore, Schopenhauer endeavors for a more
substantial and workable highest good because he is convinced that human
beings “often act justly [das man oft gerecht handelt]” (BGE 203).
With regard to the highest principle of morality being a normative prin-
ciple, Kant suggests that it should provide an ‘ought’ to all rational agents.
According to Kant, the moral law is a fact of reason that irresistibly enforces
itself upon the human agent and no level of indoctrination, intoxication
or habit can ever negate the duty of every rational agent. Schopenhauer
takes issue with the supposed normativity of Kant’s categorical impera-
tive and the majority of the Prize Essay on the Basis of Morals revolves
around Schopenhauer’s rejection of the alleged ‘ought’ in Kant’s categorical
imperative. According to Schopenhauer, “Kant’s primary error” consists in a
“decided begging of the question”, namely to assume that “there are purely
moral laws” (BGE 120). Properly speaking, the notion of ‘law’ belongs only
in the areas of politics (where it is enforced by reward and punishment) or in
the natural sciences (where it applies universally), not in ethics; moreover, the
introduction of the concept of “law, prescription, ought into ethics” can have
only one possible origin, namely “the Mosaic Decalogue” (BGE 121–122).
In short, Schopenhauer believes that Kant’s morality is nothing but a dress-
ing up of theological morals (a position rejected by Kant) and when one
separates the concept of law from its theological metaphysics, “these con-
cepts lose all meaning” (BGE 123). The Christian moral law derives its nor-
mative force from its theological presuppositions, including the notions of
divine reward and retribution. Kant attempts to divorce morality from these
eudemonist and theological aspects are unsuccessful and “the unconditional,
absolute ought avenges itself” (BGE 124). If Kant wants to keep the uncon-
ditional form of his morals, he finds himself obligated to attach morality,
once again, to selfish interests through the postulation of the existence of
God. In Schopenhauer’s view, if morality is to truly forfeit eudemonism and
theology, it should look for the truest of selfless interests, namely compas-
sion. In Schopenhauer’s definition of compassion, one has a true self-less
interest, namely in the sense that the self disappears. This disappearance of
this self is not motivated by an unconditional normative call of a moral law,
rather by the potentially soteriological awareness of the ultimate unity of all
of reality. As such, something selfish is at work in becoming selfless.6
With regard to the highest principle of morality being the supreme princi-
ple of moral evaluation, Kant argues that it should provide the basis for any
and all moral evaluation. According to Kant, the moral law (and the good
will that pursues the moral law) is the ultimate norm of all moral evalua-
tion: one is good if one takes up the moral law into one’s maxim. Similarly,
Schopenhauer could have stated that ‘no suffering’ is the proper evaluation
of moral agency; however, one can pursue one’s own pain-free state in such a
way that one actually enhances the overall pain in the world. Therefore, the
moral action is the one that deliberately sets out to reduce the total amount
of suffering in the world by the recognition that all the suffering belongs
to every particular agent. This moves that agent to undo as much of it as
possible—either by the undoing of other people’s pain or undoing his or her
own selfhood, thereby effectively destroying his or her own possible suffering.
1.4 Human Desire—Redefined

Practical reason can mean only that abstract motives provide a new incen-
tive for the will; the highest good is the free self-abnegation of the will that
introduces a lasting state of freedom from suffering. To conceive of this as
the highest good seems buoyed by the common sense acknowledgement that
suffering is something to be avoided, and to undo suffering would readily
become a rather intuitive and solid basis for morality.7 At present, Schopen-
hauer’s highest good might seem rather straightforward, and to characterize
Schopenhauer as a pessimist would seem unnecessary. However, to attain
this ultimate aim of human (in)action is not an easy fit, particularly so since
§ 56–59 of WWV1 will establish Schopenhauer as probably the gloomiest
and most pessimistic philosopher that the history of Western philosophy has
ever known. The essence of Schopenhauer’s pessimism lies in his understand-
ing of desire and the way desire does not at all attune to the highest good.
Schopenhauer has argued in his metaphysics that the will “foregoes
entirely [from] any final goal or purpose” (WWV1 364). While will in itself
is endless, when the will self-manifests in accordance with the principle of
sufficient reason, it must somehow attach to a never-ending number of finite
objects. As such, the endlessness of will in itself morphs into the endless
objects of desire in representational reality. The nature of the in itself of
reality is to desire something; the emphasis here is on ‘desire’, and not on the
‘something’. The objects of desire do not matter all that much, only the fact
that the will endlessly desires objects. While Kant and his more idealistically
minded successors assumed the in itself to be a purposive process ultimately
leading to an absolute good, Schopenhauer finds a dark, blind and unguided
will beneath all of representational life. While for idealism the ultimate end
of reality was the explanatory principle (telos), the origin (arché) of reality
has central prominence for Schopenhauer. In the end, this boils down to
the view that all of empirical being is essentially ‘will’ and all agency refers
back to this primal origin. All representational agency, however, is not ‘blind’
like the will in itself, but because of being conditioned by the principle of
sufficient reason becomes a will to specific ends. The most general of these
ends is life itself, and that end can be helped along by satisfying more spe-
cific ends (which leads to happiness) or thwarted by failing to meet certain
specific ends (which leads to suffering). The pursuit of life is nevertheless a

never-ending task for humanity, and so the specific ends that serve to sustain
life are endless.
Schopenhauer published his earlier works around the same time Hegel
published most of his main works. Although Schopenhauer would outlive
Hegel, they were for all intents and purposes contemporaries—something
missed by those who relate Schopenhauer closer to the second than the first
half of the 19th century. The roar of the subterranean will in Schopenhauer
is not a result of decades of Romanticism and upcoming Existentialism, but
something that occurred almost simultaneously with Hegel’s ode to logic
and rationality.8 While Hegel took philosophy in a direction that warranted
optimism, Schopenhauer believes that true philosophy recognizes the abys-
mal and even horrific dimensions of existence. Specifically, these dimensions
manifest themselves as the omnipresence of suffering and the incapacity of
human life towards happiness: “Suffering is [essential] to all life” (WWV1
366); and: “A priori [. . .] human life is dispositionally incapable of true
happiness” (WWV1 381). Any human being’s life is necessarily mired in suf-
fering. Three elements relating to human desire are central to understanding
Schopenhauer’s philosophy of suffering.
First, to desire is something negative, i.e., an attempt to undo rather than
accomplish something: “The basis of all willing is need, lack, and thus pain
[Bedürftigkeit, Mangel, also Schmerz]” (WWV1 367). Desire is a force that
pushes forward rather than pulls onwards; or, it is a vis a tergo and not a vis
a finalis. Desire is not teleologically directed to an ultimate future, a highest
goal or a rational end-cause, but simply arises ad hoc to undo certain imped-
iments to the will to life. This means that consciousness really only emerges
when the objects of desire are not immediately achieved, which happens
predominantly in advanced, higher animals: “Just as the brook makes no
eddy as long as it encounters no obstacles, so too human as well as animal
nature entail that we do not properly notice and realize everything that goes
in accordance with our will” (PP2 309). This implies that self-consciousness
is really an aberration in animal life that seeks its own abolition—since it
emerges in response to a painful lack. Anticipating some of Freud’s views
with regard how the Ich emerges from the Es, Schopenhauer notes that
human consciousness is something that aspires to regress to a state prior to
self-consciousness. Human beings yearn for a blissful state where there is a
total lack of self-consciousness. One way to reach such a state is intoxication:
“No human being has ever felt completely happy in the present, unless he had
been drunk” (PP2 306). Numerous human activities attempt to accomplish a
similar sense of ‘losing oneself’; among these, Schopenhauer singles out com-
passion, art, religion an ascetics. But this establishes that already in desire
as such there is a rather awkward aspect of not-willing-to-desire: particular
desires, and even consciousness itself, deliberately seeks its self-destruction.
Regrettably, this is accomplished only episodically in the actual achievement
of the desire; only an abstract and comprehensively informed desire that
turns intuitive can quell desire as such.

Schopenhauer notes then how all particular desire is related to ‘death’ in
a two-fold, paradoxical sense. In one way, all particular desires attempt to
undo themselves and so return the individual to a pre-subjective state, as
illustrated above. But in another way, desire is also an attempt to “ward off
the perpetual onslaught of death” (WWV1 367), which is ultimately in vain
since “death has to win in the end” (WWV1 367). All desire is ultimately
interested only in the continued existence of the subject so that this subject
can procreate the species. When all this works well, consciousness does not
emerge and the stream of desires flows smoothly. But when suffering and
potential death are on the doorstep, the subject springs into action. In indi-
viduals then, there is no honest “concern for [their] own maintenance”, but
mainly “the fear of [their] own destruction” (WWV2 529). Not the love of
life, but the fear of death is the only real cause of agency in all beings. How-
ever, if we look at things rationally, Schopenhauer argues, there is nothing
about death that would warrant such panic: “It is in and of itself absurd
to regard nonbeing as an ill” (WWV2 532). Human beings are regrettably
not inclined by nature to approach these issues rationally, and accordingly
spend the vast majority of their life busily warding off inevitable death. What
makes suffering something to be avoided at all costs is that it reeks of death:
suffering is the unwelcome herald of death creeping in. Whenever pain and
suffering set in, we are reminded of death and are thus propelled into action
to ward off that suffering: not because of a rational fear of death, a love of
life or any ultimate, rational goal, but because of the natural, inborn fear of
death. While self-consciousness is propelled to undo itself, the will itself is a
will not not-to-be. All natural agency boils down to the pursuit of whatever
that would undo suffering and sustains ours and ours species’ existence (i.e.,
self-sustenance and procreation).
Second, the specific desires that arise so as to undo suffering are princi-
pally endless, and so suffering is principally endless and continues even when
all specific desires are met. Human agents attempt to undo suffering by ful-
filling the specific desire from which pain springs. Fulfilling these desires of
the will is impotent to deliver the human being from suffering and in so long
agents have desires at all, suffering will necessarily accompany their lives. Is
there no point where the endlessness of desire as such runs aground on the
limited amount of objects to be desired? Is a wealthy millionaire as needful
as a penniless beggar? In momentary cases where all desires appear to be
met, the will becomes troubled by a very peculiar desire, namely the desire to
desire. This is a restlessness that arises in the will when it is unable to latch
its energies on to an object to be desired. The resulting sensation is boredom
(Langeweile), which induces human beings to move into the perilous space
of desire once again. Without desire, human beings are in a profound state
of unrest that vexes them to such an extent that they would gladly take very
hazardous undertakings upon themselves.
Boredom is a rather awkward aspect of Schopenhauer’s philosophy. He
seems to count boredom as a terrible evil, even exceeding the pain that
accompanies normal care for one’s existence. As such, Schopenhauer is happy
to admit that normal people need “a certain quantum of care, or pain, or dis-
tress, as a ship needs ballast in order to move steadily and in a straight line”
(PP2 311). If such distress did not occur regularly, the ensuing boredom
would certainly arouse grievous sentiment or even outrageous acts:
Suppose this race were transported to a fool’s paradise, where every-

thing grew on its own and the pigeons flew around already roasted, and
everyone found his dearly beloved and held on to her without difficulty.
There some would die of boredom, or hang themselves, but some would
assault, throttle and murder each other, and thus cause more suffering
for themselves than nature now places on them.
(PP2 311)
Some of this appears awkward for two reasons. First, Schopenhauer notes
above that conscious pain and desire emerge only if the flow of desire is trou-
bled. As long as we are healthy and everything goes according to nature’s
plan, there is no need for consciousness to emerge. And yet, now Schopen-
hauer adds to this that consciousness remains in action even if all desires
are met, because the subject experiences boredom. There appears then to be
more persistence to consciousness than he has led us to believe. Perhaps one
way to resolve this paradox is to point out how subjective consciousness
persists even if no particular desires emerge, but that this consciousness is
solely in itself, and not of something else—remember the above distinction
between self-consciousness and consciousness of other things (chapter three,
section three). As such, Schopenhauer might have been better off saying that,
as long as no particular desires emerge, there is no consciousness of other
things, but the subject remains self-consciousness. In those rare moments of
pure self-consciousness, the subject is unnerved by his lack of determinate
lack, which results in boredom. Second, in order to warrant his elitist view
of human society, Schopenhauer points out the benefit of leisure, i.e., being
free from normal daily activities of self-sustenance: “Idle hands make for
active minds” (PP2 262). Would the previous account of boredom not con-
demn these elites to a life of which the commoner should not be envious?
While these individuals are not troubled by normal distress, their free time
could serve society by making technological and philosophical advances.
One could then say that the elites suffer boredom, and attempt to counter it
at the same time by mental rather than physical labor.
For those who have the means to attain their desires, “life swings back and
forth like a pendulum between pain and boredom” (WWV1 368). “What
keeps all living things busy and in motion is the striving to exist. But when
existence is secured, they do not know what to do” (WWV1 369). To reiter-
ate: pain breeds desire, desire breeds actions, action undoes pain, satisfaction
makes way for new desires or gives cause for boredom and “boredom is cer-
tainly not an evil to be taken lightly” (WWV1 369). Jordi Fernández makes
an interesting case on the point that Schopenhauer’s logical basis for arguing
for his kind of pessimism is unsound. Fernández points out that Schopen-
hauer’s pessimism is ‘conditional’ (not absolute), since Schopenhauer leaves
room to escape suffering through non-willing: “As long as desires arise in
us, permanent pleasure is impossible”.9 Schopenhauer’s argument for this
proposition is based upon two arguments. First, having desires involves pain
and we are unable to satisfy all desires. Second, having desires involves
pain, and, satisfying desires yields boredom. Both arguments are supported
by the same premise, namely that “desire is aimless”.10 If desire was not
aimless and endless, we would, on the one hand, be able to satisfy all our
desires and, on the other, we would not be ‘bored’ by the satisfaction of our
desires since our desires would not have been only apparent. To Fernández,
this premise is problematic since it conflicts with Schopenhauer’s theory of
action that suggests that all desire emerge from specific needs.11 If we would
include, according to Fernández, a ‘desire to desire’ (or ‘will to will’), then
Schopenhauer’s argument would make sense. In my view, Schopenhauer had
already done so in his distinction between ‘desire as such’ (or the will) and
specifics ‘desires’: since every desire is an expression of desire as such, it is
itself an expression of the desire to desire. As such, it is not only the specific
desires that are to be halted, but also the very root of desiring to desire; the
ultimate freedom from suffering implies the absence of pain and boredom
both, but that remains elusive so long as agents are caught in the affirmation
of life: “Everything in life gives notice of the fact that earthly happiness is
destined to be thwarted or recognized as an illusion” (WWV2 655). To put
the difference succinctly: for the hedonist, the problem is that human beings
have desires that remain unfulfilled; for Schopenhauer, the problem is that
there is desire at all. True deliverance from suffering and boredom cannot be
attained through any process of willing, but only through stopping to will.
Schopenhauer claims that this is the philosophically true core of (Lutheran)
Christianity: “Works do not justify” (WWV2 690).
Third, Schopenhauer’s metaphysics backs up this agonal analysis of the
human condition: “The unattainable nature of lasting satisfaction and the
negativity of all happiness, is explained by what we showed at the end of
the Second Book [of WWV1]: namely that the will, which is objectified in
human life as it is every appearance, is a striving without aim and without
end” (WWV1 378). Because of Schopenhauer’s metaphysical understanding
of the in itself as endless, voracious and unrestrained will, “human life is
dispositionally incapable of true happiness” (WWV1 381). Insofar as the
behavior of human beings remains immersed in the execution of natural
behavior (the affirmation of the will to life), there is no end to suffering.
There arises thus a need for something else—an ‘other’ than the will—that
enables human beings to break up the natural mode of behavior, or, better
yet, it breaks the natural mode of behavior for human beings. While much
of this resonates with a Lutheran emphasis on the nullity of ‘works’ to attain
true salvation, Schopenhauer does not entertain a notion of religious grace to

set things right. In a way, Schopenhauer becomes a Lutheran that is without
revelation, without grace and without God. This could lead to the view that
there is no true salvation and that human beings live in inescapable agony
from birth to death—an end they would be better off in hurrying along,
rather than warding off. Schopenhauer’s final conclusions would then read
that “we are fundamentally something that should not be” (WWV2 579);
and that “the life of every individual is in fact always a tragedy” (WWV1
380); and that “a person is a being whose existence is a punishment and a
penance” (WWV2 663); and that “human beings are on the whole worth-
less” (WWV1 415).
There is nevertheless a potential savior! Like all other beings, human
beings have a powerful disgust of suffering and always attempt to rise above
this. At times, we are afforded a glimpse of a better way to undo suffering
by piercing through the circuitry of lack, pain, satisfaction and boredom.
We realize that the pursuit of happiness is the source of dissatisfaction. We
realize the endlessness of desire and the ultimate naturalistic unity of all of
reality. This insight can happen upon us and it shows soteriological poten-
tial. This insight can manifest empirically in different ways and certain typ-
ically human practices respond in various ways to this insight: compassion,
religion, art and ascetics. This makes Schopenhauer not an absolute pessi-
mist since he allows for an escape from our dismal condition—whether this
escape is actually something to recommend will be discussed further below
(chapter seven). Schopenhauer’s foremost interests are then twofold, namely
to establish, on the one hand, that natural life and the pursuit of happiness
is necessarily mired in suffering and, on the other hand, that there are cer-
tain tools that might mitigate or even undo desire so that with its decline,
suffering might disappear.
Schopenhauer is well aware—or at least was made aware throughout his
life—that his gloomy perspective on natural existence is subject to contro-
versy (e.g., WWV2 657). What is singled out in particular, both in Schopen-
hauer’s day and today, is his backbone intuition that desire and satisfaction
are negative (e.g., BGE 210). For instance, Christopher Janaway notes three
pressing difficulties with Schopenhauer’s argument for the omnipresence
and inescapability of suffering. First, Schopenhauer does not psycholog-
ically distinguish happiness as the momentary cessation of striving from
such things as being asleep or even being dead. These appear to be, at least
psychologically, remarkably different. Second, Schopenhauer does not dis-
cuss the potential happiness that arises and builds up through the process
of achieving an end: satisfaction does not lie merely in the end, but also
throughout the process. Schopenhauer might say that this happiness arises
as a result of the accomplishment of sub-goals in the process of arising at the
main goal. Thirdly, Schopenhauer allies to a somewhat simple form of hedo-
nism that only allows for happiness to bestow positive value upon some-
thing. From this last point, it can be gathered that Schopenhauer’s pessimism
does not follow simply from his metaphysics, but also depends on a rather
bleak outlook on happiness.12 Responding to some of these objections and
anticipating others, Schopenhauer provided a number of extra arguments
throughout his later works to further corroborate his point of view that
satisfaction is negative and that suffering is the a priori identity of life.
First, to clarify the relationship of suffering to the worth of human exis-
tence, Schopenhauer proposes a twofold argument somehow mimicking the
evidentialist and logical argument of evil: on the one hand, the evidentialist
argument suggests that the balance between happiness and suffering tilts
significantly to the side of suffering and, on the other hand, the logical argu-
ment suggests that “the mere existence of suffering or ill already decides
the matter” (WWV2 658–659). In the first instance, Schopenhauer argues
that optimism is unwarranted because suffering quantitatively outbalances
happiness and in the second instance Schopenhauer notes that optimism
is unwarranted because there is suffering at all. While this might appear odd,
Schopenhauer in fact combines these two approaches by emphasizing the
negative nature of happiness and the positive nature of suffering: “We feel
pain, but not painlessness; we feel concern, but not unconcern; fear, but not
security” (WWV2 657). In his view, happiness and suffering do not relate
as +X and −X, but rather as 0 and −X. Whatever amount of happiness can
never outmatch even the minutest trace of suffering because happiness is
not a positive quality, only the absence of suffering. So in Schopenhauer’s
account, the evidentialist and logical argument go hand in hand since what-
ever amount of suffering will always exceed whatever amount of happiness.
In traditional Theodicée, which engaged similar things (how can creation
be good if evil abounds?), the argument would be made that suffering is not
really an ill but part and parcel of the goodness of the world—a world that
is the best of all possible worlds. Schopenhauer is quick to discard this argu-
ment, without much argument, and even suggests that the only “merit to the
Theodicée” is that “it later occasioned the immortal Candide of the great
Voltaire” (WWV2 667)—which happened to be Schopenhauer’s father’s
favorite book.13 Leibniz’s argument suggests that evil and suffering appear
as dissonances but actually are part of a greater harmony which only God
can behold comprehensively. In Schopenhauer’s view, this leaves a dearth of
explanation that fails to address the experience of living in this world (a pos-
teriori) that if brought before sober reflection is a necessary aspect of reality.
Put differently, one has to neglect a whole lot of empirical data to claim that
this is the best of all possible worlds. This implies that any justification or
rationalization of suffering is beside the point; the Theodicée could even
be considered immoral since it gives cause not to take suffering seriously.
Similar arguments will be voiced by Emmanuel Levinas in his well-known
essay ‘Useless Suffering’; here, he fulminates against a view of suffering that
is through the practice of theodicy, “meaningful, [or] subordinated in one
way or another to the metaphysical finality envisaged by faith or by a belief
in progress”.14
While never offering a justification of suffering, Schopenhauer neverthe-

less entertains every now and again an equivocal hope—a view abandoned
by Levinas—that there is some boon to be gained from profound suffering.
By this, he seeks not to justify suffering, but to point out how some good
could emerge out of suffering—like a beautiful flower can be fed by manure.
These boons are as follows. On the one hand, Schopenhauer notes how pro-
found suffering grants human beings a “compensation, [i.e.] the privilege of
being able to end his life when he prefers” (BGE 127). On the other hand,
Schopenhauer suggests that the intuitive realization of the never-ending and
intense suffering of human beings can incline them away from the natural
affirmation of their will. As such, the more intense the suffering becomes, the
more likely self-abnegation becomes: “The capacity for pain would have to
reach its zenith only where the possibility for negation of the will is present,
by virtue of reason and its soundness of mind. For without this, the capacity
for pain would be nothing but a pointless cruelty” (PP2 317).
Thus, rather than engaging Leibniz in his top-down point of view (since
there is cosmic harmony, there can be no real evil),15 Schopenhauer builds
his argument from the bottom up: suffering belongs to life necessarily and
thus any alleged harmony is profoundly mistaken. What is interesting is how
Schopenhauer expresses discontent about how his contemporaries reach
back to Leibniz and that they disregard Kant’s innovations in this respect
(WWV2 666). While Kant did disavow hope in a traditional or doctrinal
theodicy, he did hold fast to an ‘authentic’ theodicy based on moral faith (see
his On the Miscarriage of all Philosophical Trials in Theodicy)—a point that
goes unnoticed by Schopenhauer. For the remainder of his engagement with
theodicy, Schopenhauer rests content with pointing out how ‘great minds of
the past’ have been prone to contest the general contentions of theodicy and
does not really add his own arguments in corroboration—except then for
his own argument for the ‘worst of all possible worlds’, discussed already
above (chapter three). In Schopenhauer’s view, if the world would be any
more unstable, it could not maintain in existence. This generates a terrible
unease in the individual’s frame of mind, which in turn provides additional
cause for unrest, which is a state of being that is the “the prototype of exis-
tence” (PP2 302). While Leibniz’s metaphysical argument regarding cosmic
harmony might be logically sound, it can in no way silence the nervousness
of any individual in existence that has to live tormented by the inevitable
onslaught of suffering and death.
Second, Schopenhauer refers to numerous artistic and religious texts that
are generally in accord with his pessimistic point of view (e.g., WWV2 659;
671–673). Next to pointing how many great minds (Kant, Voltaire) took
offense at Leibniz’s optimism, Schopenhauer is keen to show how poets
and prophets have similarly contested optimism. With regard to art and
religion, one would probably be able to find numerous more optimistically
minded poets and prophets (of no lesser allure) than the pessimistic ones
Schopenhauer enumerates. Particularly the alleged pessimism of numerous
religions, even of Schopenhauer’s beloved Brahmanism, Buddhism and New

Testament Christianity, is virtually always combined with a soteriology that
allows for recourse from humanity’s dreadful condition. While certain reli-
gions emphasize more emphatically the depravity in the human agent, they
consistently provide certain practices to counter this depravity in search for
salvation. Accordingly, Schopenhauer acclaims Luther’s notion of the bond-
age of the will without ascribing to Luther’s view that salvation through
grace by reading Scripture is possible. The pessimism in what Schopenhauer
calls ‘pessimistic religions’ is mitigated by the possibility of salvation by
God. This already hints at what I will point out more extensively below, the
fact that Schopenhauer is not at all pessimistic about the possible salvation
of humanity, only about the resources in the natural condition of humanity
to facilitate such salvation. His pessimism then primarily relates to human
nature, not the possibility for salvation.
Third, Schopenhauer finds that the whole of reality is pervaded with a
‘trace’ or ‘smell’ of the fact that life should not have been (WWV2 660–662):
things cannot endure for very long and if things were only a little worse, they
could not have existed at all. To Schopenhauer, “everything is always imper-
fect and deceptive, everything agreeable mixed with the disagreeable, every
enjoyment always only half a one, every pleasure brings its own destruction
along, every alleviation new afflictions [etc.]” (WWV2 660). What is even
more important is that the perennial deficiency of reality reveals something
about human nature: “The truth is: we should be miserable, and we are”
(WWV2 660). We deserve no better fate than the one we are dealt because
human beings are, at bottom, unfair, unjust and cruel beings, or so Schopen-
hauer believed. It is interesting how Schopenhauer does not shun from
highlighting the cruel and destructive dimensions of humanity, such as its
environmental impact, the slave trade, and cruelty to animals, but he is loath
to consider the gentle, kind and uplifting potential of (some of) humanity,
most likely because he believes these derive largely from egoistic motivation.
Fourth, there are a myriad of smaller signposts that hint at the fact that life
is something that ought not to have been. For instance, this can be gathered
from the necessity of death and how all life storms towards death in an ulti-
mately downhill race: “Blissfully dreaming childhood, cheerful youth, toil-
some manhood, frail, often pitiful old age, the torments of final illness and
finally the struggle with death—does it not look exactly as if existence were
a blunder whose consequences inevitably and increasingly become appar-
ent? (PP2 307). Another example would be boredom. Life appears as a task
given by a ruthless taskmaster, which ultimately, when brought to comple-
tion, reveals itself to be much ado about nothing: “Boredom is precisely the
sensation of the emptiness of existence” (PP2 305).
Lastly, Schopenhauer points out how philosophers prior to him have often
noted a ‘theoretical’ problem concerning the world: ‘Why is there something
and not nothing?’ This theoretical problem begets practical expression since
philosophers have often found it necessary to justify the existence of reality.
According to Schopenhauer, the very asking of such a question signals that at
some level the human being is aware of the questionable nature of existence
as such. Schopenhauer does seem to read the questions of metaphysics some-
what one-sidedly. Metaphysical investigations into the theoretical validity of
the world are propelled by a kind of wonder, not a panicky reaction to death.
While Schopenhauer believes that all such metaphysical reflections are pro-
pelled by confrontations with suffering, evil and death (WWV2 176–177),
they could perhaps more charitably derive from a more positive sense of
bewilderment at reality. Philosophical reason is not activated solely to fill a
‘gap’ or ‘lack’ in the rational justification of existence, but is often propelled
by the desire to account for perplexing abundance of life.
Schopenhauer does seem all in all to lack conclusive and especially objec-
tive proof for his core conviction that life is suffering and, because of this,
not worth living. Rather than indicting Schopenhauer’s philosophy with the
burden of logical inconsistencies or evidential fallacy here,16 we would do
well to investigate through which path Schopenhauer did reach his gloomy
conclusion. In my view, Schopenhauer intimately experienced the misery of
existence, and felt that nature and existence as such require deliberate and
invasive transformation. Schopenhauer’s philosophical arguments in favor
of pessimism could then be read as a posteriori rationalizations and justi-
fication of this deeply felt conviction. The need for change comes first, the
reason why second.
Section 2: Moral Disgust

In Kant’s moral system, the moral law applies equally and unconditionally
to every rational agent without restriction. What is more, one can never
plead ignorance with regard to moral duty. The content of the moral law
“dwells in natural sound understanding and needs not so much to be taught
as only to be clarified” (GMS 397). For Schopenhauer, things are different.
Not everyone is aware of the ultimate unity of reality. Some have a determi-
nate lack of profound metaphysical insight. There is an important element of
education involved. This implies that Schopenhauer to some extent believes
that morality can be taught. But should it be taught?
The most decisive difference between Kant and Schopenhauer’s account of
moral obligation is that Schopenhauer does not believe in the moral ought,
which really is the hallmark of the Kant’s categorical imperative. For Schopen-
hauer, there is no way to change your willing: the will, namely, wills what-
ever it wills as a necessary consequent of the interplay between motive and
character. Human beings would do well, however, to educate themselves so as
to be able to let go of their egoism and the principle of individuation. But if this
education is not a ‘duty’, what is it then? What renders metaphysical insight
good for Schopenhauer if all good supposedly always depends upon the will?
The answer to this question can be found by looking at what I would call
a Schopenhauerian disgust (Nichtwollen) for suffering. Schopenhauer signals
that there is something deeply disturbing about suffering; and the removal
of suffering, our own as well as that of others, should be the prime goal of
our temporal existence. On a common sense level, anchoring morality in

the removal of suffering does seem to be superior to Kant’s suggestion that
morality is a duty to be rational, both in following only those maxims that
can be universalized and in respecting human (rational) beings as ends in
themselves. For Kant, being moral is ultimately a matter of allowing such
rational considerations to take priority over sensuous inclinations. But while
being rational as such does not appear to be in itself morally valuable, the
removal of suffering as such is a valuable, moral goal. Schopenhauer builds a
moral system from the ground up since he connects morality to a natural and
normal aspiration of all individuals in existence. This saves him from going
through the pains of specifying the human agent’s interest in morality since
to be free from suffering is something human agents naturally desire. For this
aspiration to become moral, however, requires us to adopt the suffering of the
other as our own—undoing our own suffering can hardly be called moral!
What complicates things is that the natural ways of trying to attain this moral
good prove to be remarkably ineffective: the affirmation of the will to life
only produces more suffering, not lasting relief. Only by dismantling the nat-
ural approach to suffering can suffering be assuaged or even nullified.
The no-goodness of reality seems to precede the soteriological good—
definitely for Schopenhauer, and perhaps even for Kant. Reality is felt, by
Schopenhauer, to be thoroughly defective and from this emerges the quest
for a new, non-natural mode of existence. In Kant’s moral philosophy, there
always remains a good predisposition that logically precedes depravity,
but this good predisposition is radically overtaken by the propensity to
evil (RGV 26–39). So while goodness seems to be always logically prior to
depravity, depravity is always experienced first—even in Kant’s moral sys-
tem. Schopenhauer appears to be more straightforward in his formulation of
an ethical system where the soteriological good arises in rebellion against a
miserable condition. As such, the moral way of life emerges from a thorough
discontentment with the natural way of life. As one scholar puts it, Schopen-
hauer turns the traditional understanding of good and evil around: “Evil is
not a privation of the good, but the good a privation of evil”.17 There must
accordingly be something that potentially pushes human beings out of the
natural condition, a force from behind (vis a tergo) which somehow inclines
the human being into breaking bondage from the will to life.
At some point (perhaps of terminological obscurity), Schopenhauer seems
to suggest that the force that might break up the will to life could emerge from
our will: “We must take them [i.e., sparks of honesty, goodness and genius]
as a pledge that a good and redeeming principle lies in this Samsara, which
can achieve a breakthrough and fulfil and liberate the whole” (PP2 233).
Most of the time, Schopenhauer is very careful to de-naturalize the interest
we might have in the denial of the will to life: this emerges in the pure cogni-
tion (through art, religion or philosophy) of the ultimate unity of existence.
This view perhaps raises the following question: if everything is will to life,
how could philosophy, art or religion be any different? While Schopenhauer
does connect morality to a fairly natural interest (the release from suffering),
the most appropriate means to this end are unnatural or, better, counter-
natural. In other words, Schopenhauer’s concept of the good is buoyed by
human nature, the means to attain the good are not part of human nature,
but rather oppose, destroy and reformat human nature.
This makes clear that Schopenhauer definitely did not forsake the Kan-
tian language of revolution: the moral good is attained not by a ‘training’ or
‘molding’ of our inclinations, but by radically transforming these—or bet-
ter, by being radically transformed through something other. For Kant, this
is meant to put our maxims under a moral condition; for Schopenhauer,
this means that the will to life is silenced by means of metaphysical insight.
Schopenhauer’s radicalization of Kant’s insight here can be understood as a
part of his metaphysicalization of Kant’s notion of radical depravity (now
lacking a ‘good’ counterpart). A few examples of how Schopenhauer simi-
larly appeals to the language of revolution. First, the concept of genius is not
of an extraordinarily talented human being, rather a radically different type
of being: “the pure, will-less, painless, timeless subject of cognition” (WWV1
211). Although “the capacity to be the pure subject of cognition and no lon-
ger an individual [. . .] must reside in all people to a certain degree” (WWV1
229), the genius is by no means a normal human being, but has broken all
bonds with humanity and is elevated far above mere humanity. Second, the
ascetic saint is not a specially trained human being, but a completely new per-
son that is “born again [Wiedergeburt]” (WWV1 477). Having left the “king-
dom of nature”, now the ascetic is in the “kingdom of grace” (WWV1 478).
Schopenhauer did nevertheless connect his moral system to a fairly common
sense first principle: suffering is no good. In a way, this insight supports both
the affirmation and the negation of the will to life. Those with sufficient
insight learn that the affirmation of the will and the quenching of desires
will never provide the solace they yearn for. Being a priori mired in suffer-
ing, some recognize that the natural condition is no good and, through this,
Schopenhauer has fairly little difficulty, pace Kant, in making intelligible why
anyone would want to leave this natural state. By primarily recognizing that
being as given is no good, a particular moralized disgust emerges in revolt
against repulsive nature and consequently inducing a move beyond nature.
In his aesthetics, Schopenhauer briefly discusses ‘the disgusting’ that could
have been helpful to clarifying his system of moral motivation:
There is a negative stimulation too, which is even more objectionable

than the positive stimulation just mentioned, and this is the disgusting.
Just as with genuine stimulation, it stimulates the viewer’s will, destroy-
ing any purely aesthetic contemplation. But what it arouses is an intense
negative willing [Nichtwollen], a repugnance: it stimulates the will by
showing it objects it detests.
(WWV1 246)
By showing the will objects that it detests, there arises a determinate sense of
not-willing. By evoking, however, a repulsion or disgust for the affirmation
of the will to life, there can emerge an equivocal desire not to desire. How-
ever, this does not make a lot of sense in Schopenhauer’s philosophy. Asceti-
cism is not the ‘desire not to will’—even though Schopenhauer did formulate
it as such in his unpublished philosophy of the ‘better consciousness’—but
the utter destruction of desire. Schopenhauer could have opted to vivify
interest in the destruction of desire by showing how human beings can be
prone to the negation of the will to life by evoking disgust for the affirmation
of the will.
In Schopenhauer’s aesthetics, for instance, all sorts of ’stimulation’ are
to be avoided because, rather than silencing the will, they arouse it and
accordingly prevent pure aesthetic contemplation. Schopenhauer is then
particularly harsh on the notion of the ‘disgusting’ as an ever more objec-
tionable form of art since it induces feelings of repugnance. While this might
seem somewhat inconsistent with his celebration of the salutary workings
of suffering and tragedy as one of the higher forms of art, the language
that Schopenhauer presently uses to describe the negative stimulation as
a Nichtwollen is particularly interesting since it closely approximates the
language of resignation. In lifting ourselves towards the perspective beyond
the affirmation of life, we are motivated by a not-willing of the natural
condition of being. Obviously, he does not identify these things because the
negative stimulation of disgusting art is still a stimulation of the will, while
resignation is the narcotic silencing of the will as such. The motivational
aspects, however, are fairly similar: we are moved to a Nichtwollen because
of a principal acknowledgment that what is presented to us—whether dis-
gusting art or suffering—is no good. So the Nichtwollen is a response out of
disgust to an objectionable state. Schopenhauer’s system of moral motiva-
tion is then not so much a ‘pulling’ out of suffering, but, rather, a ‘pushing’
away from the natural condition. The different tools for moral motivation
anchor a natural tendency in human agents, namely to move beyond the
morally objectionable state of suffering and egoism that has held them into
his clutches thus far.
Section 3: Compassion
What now are the ways that this Nichtwollen can emerge? Schopenhauer
generally believes this can arise in four forms: morality, religion, aesthetics
and ascetics. Schopenhauer’s ethics is an aspect of his philosophy that is
prone to misunderstanding because this topic is addressed in remarkably
different forms in at least two places. Both times, compassion is the unique
moral incentive, but Schopenhauer’s deduction of this follows two different
tracks. In WWV1, Schopenhauer discusses the metaphysical prerequisite for
there to be such a thing as compassion; in the Prize Essay on the Basis of
Morality, Schopenhauer discusses compassion as the only genuine moral
incentive. Which exegesis has priority over the other? Is compassion primar-
ily a matter of a moral or metaphysical nature? In a slightly awkward sense,
Schopenhauer subscribes to the Kantian perspective that “metaphysics must

come first, and without it there can be no moral philosophy at all” (GMS
309). Schopenhauer’s metaphysical account of compassion in WWV1 shows
how compassion is possible, and his account in the Prize Essay elaborates on
the specifics of compassion as the moral incentive. These two works relate
to one another much like Kant’s First Critique and Groundwork for the
Metaphysics of Morals relates to the Metaphysics of Morals: the former sets
the (metaphysical) ground for morality, the latter describes the application
and form of morality.
For the purposes of this chapter, we will work our way up to the meta-
physics, rather than work down to its application; in other words, we will
follow Schopenhauer’s argument in the Prize Essay mainly because it is more
transparent. Here, Schopenhauer introduces morality from a pessimistic and
skeptical perspective (BGE 186–195), which might seem odd but can be
explained by the circumstance from which it arose. What has to be borne
in mind namely is that the Prize Essay attempts to answer a question. This
time, the Royal Danish Society of Sciences sponsored the contest and the
question read: “Is the source and basis of morals to be sought in an idea of
morality that resides immediately in consciousness (or conscience) and in
an analysis of the remaining basic moral concepts that arise out of it, or in
another cognitive ground?” (BGE 106). Other than his essay on freedom,
Schopenhauer’s response was not awarded the prize (even though it was the
only submission). Schopenhauer spares no gall in discussing the objections
to his essay (BGE vii–xxxviii), which obviously fell on deaf ears. These criti-
cisms ranged from Schopenhauer’s misunderstanding the question, the form
of the essay being insufficiently systematic and, perhaps most importantly,
that “several distinguished philosophers of recent times are mentioned in
such an indecent fashion as to provoke just and grave offence” (BGE xvii—
Schopenhauer’s emphasis). Schopenhauer identifies these ‘distinguished phi-
losophers’ as Fichte and Hegel. This is followed by an impressive rant at the
expense of Fichte and Hegel. Schopenhauer is fairly mild when it comes to
Fichte, as Hegel certainly takes the brunt of the assault. Allow me to indulge
in some of Schopenhauer’s finer insults:
The so-called philosophy of Hegel was a colossal mystification that will

provide even posterity with the inexhaustible theme of ridiculing our
age, a pseudo-philosophy that cripples all mental powers, suffocates
real thinking and substitutes by means of the most outrageous use of
language the hollowest, the most devoid of sense, the most thoughtless
and, as the outcome confirms, the most stupefying jumble of words, and
that, with an absurd passing whim plucked out of the air as its core, it is
devoid of both grounds and consequences, i.e. is neither proved by any-
thing nor itself proves or explains anything, and what is more, lacking
any originality, a mere parody of scholastic realism and of Spinozism at
the same time, a monster which is also supposed to represent Christian-
ity from the reverse side [. . .] This philosopher scrawled nonsense as no
mortal ever did before him.
(BGE xix–xx)
Imagine Schopenhauer participating at a celebrity roast.

The skeptical point of view arises because Schopenhauer does not buy
into the point of view, implicitly accepted by the Royal Danish Society of
the Sciences, that morality has a cognitive ground, whether in immediate
consciousness, in an idea of the good/law, or in an inner sense. This does
not imply that there is no ground for morality, but rather that this ground
cannot be rational. This explains also why Schopenhauer dedicates the first
half of the Prize Essay to undermining the normative foundation of morality,
particularly in Kant’s version of practical philosophy. By having done so,
Schopenhauer opens the second part of the essay with the potential result
that there might be no morality “independent of human institutions”, and
rather than being a typical characteristic of human nature, moral obligations
would be a “means invented for better restraining the selfish and wicked
human race” (BGE 186). Some would surmise from Schopenhauer’s scathing
analysis that there is no ‘fact of reason’, ‘moral conscience’ or ‘moral feeling’
that would naturally or rationally incline human agents to moral deeds and,
more importantly, would prohibit immoral deeds. Contrary to superficial
accounts of his philosophy, Schopenhauer does not subscribe to this skepti-
cal point of view and categorically states that the nihilistic point of view that
the world has no “moral significance is the greatest, most ruinous and fun-
damental error, the real perversity of the mind” (PP2 214). What Schopen-
hauer does oppose is locating matters of moral significance in the customary
‘dignity of humanity’, for instance, in how, for Kant, morality arises from
the rational, human ability to self-legislate universal laws of the categorical
nature (you will not kill, you will not lie, etc.). Human beings would then
be elevated above the rest of reality by the ability of self-activating practi-
cal reason. This conflicts painfully with Schopenhauer’s hallmark naturalist
assumption, namely that there are no qualitative differences between dif-
ferent beings. Additionally, he is highly hesitant about whether the human
animal deserves any special dignity: “The concept of dignity seems to me
to apply only ironically to a creature as sinful in willing, as limited in intel-
lect, and as vulnerable and frail in body as the human being” (PP2 215).
While this does exclude there being a rational or natural ground for moral
obligation, it does not in itself negate the possibility of a genuine moral
incentive.
To clarify further Schopenhauer’s position in this respect, it is helpful to
return to the chapter preceding this so-called skeptical point of view, namely
the ‘Critique of the Foundation Given to Ethics by Kant’. Here, Schopen-
hauer makes it perfectly clear that he puts little to no stock in Kant’s notion
of morality as a rational fact of reason and that he is equally skeptical
about whether conscience as such (or natural moral feeling) is really the
author of moral behavior. This topic has already been extensively discussed
above. In Schopenhauer’s view, there is no universal moral ought that is
(self-)prescribed to the human will for two reasons: the human will has no
‘absolute spontaneity’ or ‘negative freedom’ that allows for the free incor-
poration of such an ought and, more importantly, there is no rational or
natural ground to condition the will, since the will is absolutely free. As
such, Schopenhauer writes: “It is of course a manifest contradiction to call
the will free and then to prescribe laws that it ought to will by:—‘ought
to will’—wooden iron!” (WWV1 320–321). Schopenhauer’s metaphysical
insights suggest that the will as such is absolutely free because it is beyond
the principle of sufficient reason. There can, accordingly, be no law restrain-
ing that principle. However, whenever the will manifests, it is necessarily
bound by the principle of sufficient reason and then lacks any tools for the
free incorporation of a certain law or maxim: the will wills what it wills.
Schopenhauer’s metaphysical doctrine undermines, then, two essential Kan-
tian resources for morality: the universal normativity of morality (positive
autonomy) and the negative freedom to incorporate the moral law (negative
autonomy). By dismissing these initial Kantian assumptions, Schopenhauer
believes that he takes a radically distinct route with regard to moral agency,
but this conclusion seems to be overly impressive for two reasons.
A first reason for this is that Schopenhauer’s ethical theory is not quite
so diametrically opposed to Kant’s moral theory, as, among others, Paul
Guyer cogently points out.18 In fact, Schopenhauer’s feeling of compassion,
as we will detail below, arises from ‘pure insight’, namely the metaphysical
insight into the non-distinctness of all reality. Similarly, Kant’s moral theory
is grounded on a similar ‘pure insight’, namely the moral law as a law of
reason. Guyer argues, then, that the more pivotal distinction between Kant
and Schopenhauer’s moral theory lies in the fact that Kant urges human
agents to affectively nurture their interest in the moral law, which is a pro-
cess that Guyer alleges is lacking in Schopenhauer’s moral philosophy. Kant
emphasizes the need for the ‘cultivation of the moral incentive’, which he
in some places calls ‘moral education’ (Moralische Bildung), through cer-
tain practices that are not strictly speaking moral, but can be conducive to
a good will.19 Such moral education does not, for Kant as well as Schopen-
hauer, relate solely to the upbringing of children, but is a continuous
project of ‘moral gymnastics’ that strengthens the moral capacities of the
individual.
Kant famously argued that the moral law “dwells in natural sound under-
standing (natürlichen gesunden Verstande) and needs not so much to be
taught as only to be clarified’ (GMS 397). The content of moral duty is not
something that human agents are to be taught, but they do have to culti-
vate an affinity to moral agency. Schopenhauer is similarly skeptical about
whether moral goodness can be inspired through abstract instruction:
Virtue is as little taught as genius: indeed, concepts are just as barren for
it as they are for art, and useful for both only as tools. It would be just
as absurd to expect our systems of morals and ethics to inspire virtuous,
noble and holy men as it would be to think that our aesthetics could
create poets, painters and musicians.
(WWV1 320)
Schopenhauer’s fervor in opposing this point of view obscures here and else-
where his own perspective on these issues. While Schopenhauer lashes out
at those who would use dry, abstract knowledge of morality in order to
induce moral behavior, he does agree that human beings can grow in affin-
ity for moral behavior. In ways similar to Kant, Schopenhauerian moral
education—again, not confined to childhood and early adulthood—realizes
that human agents must be confronted with the appropriate insights so that
these insights can work as motives for behavior; moreover, through suffer-
ing, these abstract insights can be rendered more vivacious and thus more
prone to reshape human behavior. Kant’s moral philosophy takes a more
distinctly conative turn, since, for him, the moral law is a fact of transcen-
dental reason that needs no ‘education’. Moral education cultivates for Kant
the rational incentive to act morally, while for Schopenhauer moral educa-
tion provides the necessary insights to embrace the truth of pessimism that
can work soteriologically. In other words, Kant develops an ethical gymnas-
tics and Schopenhauer develops primarily an ethical catechism.
A second reason why Schopenhauer’s moral theory is not so radically
removed from Kant’s moral theory is that Schopenhauer builds on certain
typically Kantian building-blocks. Schopenhauer is also confronted with the
basic assertion that the kind of behavior human agents naturally exhibit is
removed from goodness. Kant recognized that moral behavior is virtuous
because it opposes certain, natural (but freely acted upon) inclinations:
The very concept of virtue already implies that virtue must be taught
(that it is not innate); one need not appeal to anthropological knowledge
based on experience to see this. For a human being’s moral capacity
would not be virtue were it not produced by the strength of his resolu-
tion in conflict with powerful opposing inclinations.
(MS 477)
So as to facilitate the exit from this dismal natural condition, Schopen-

hauer emphasizes the need for a radical change in behavior, much like Kant
emphasizes a ‘rebirth’: “That a human being should become not merely
legally good, but morally good [. . .] cannot be effected through gradual
reform but must rather be effected through a revolution in the disposition of
the human being” (RGV 47). Schopenhauer believes as well that the natural
way of behavior has to be uprooted before the moral, more informed way
can set in. The tools for this change are not born from ‘depraved’ human
nature, but are enforced upon the human agent from outside. The ‘pure
insight’ that is germane to motivating Kant and Schopenhauer’s moral the-
ory calls to life a radical revolution.

Schopenhauerian compassion is grounded in certain insights, which are
already in varying degrees present in some human agents. This does not,
however, mean that the human agent is naturally inclined to be compassion-
ate, but that some human agents are originally gifted with a certain amount
of abstract cognition. This is probably the main reason why Schopenhauer
does not submit to the aforementioned “skeptical worries [with regard to
natural or intellectual moral feeling], these by no means suffice to negate the
existence of all genuine morality” (BGE 193). The most these skeptical wor-
ries are able to accomplish is to invite speculation about the relative strength
of the moral incentive, not negate all possibility of morality: “The incentive
to good cannot be a very strong one [keine sehr mächtige]” (BGE 193). Here,
we note that Schopenhauer continues on a path already prepared by Kant in
what is sometimes called his moral affectivism: while the moral law is, for
Kant, of a different order than other incentives, the human agent has the ten-
dency to level the playing field and relegate the moral incentive to the same
qualitative height as other incentives.20 Accordingly, the choice to act mor-
ally or not becomes a matter of strength of motives, rather than acknowledg-
ing the moral incentive as the only rationally valid course of action (hence
Kant’s argument that most people must augment the interest in morality).
Experience teaches Schopenhauer that the moral incentive is hardly ever
acted upon and, accordingly, it must be just one of many incentives working
in the human agent that is scarcely strong enough to ever be transformed
into an action. Kant would object to Schopenhauer’s conclusion here, since,
for him, the moral law is the supreme motive, even if no one ever acts in
accordance with it. Schopenhauer’s conclusion is, however, supported by his
denial of Kant’s assumptions: first, human agents lack the moral freedom
to opt for the affectively weaker incentives (as in being fully determined
towards the strongest motive) and, second, morality is descriptive, not pre-
scriptive: without being effective at some point, morality is non-existent.
Schopenhauer sets out then to investigate which incentive produces actions
that are moral. Moral actions are those that seek to promote loving kind-
ness or justice. Here, we note yet another striking similarity between Kant
and Schopenhauer’s moral philosophy, namely that both attribute moral
worth only to incentives, not actions as such (BGE 203–205; cf. WWV1
437–438). Whether or not an incentive is effective in removing suffering is
morally moot. In Schopenhauer’s view, most actions spring forth from nat-
ural egoism: “The chief and fundamental incentive in a human being, as in
an animal, is egoism, i.e. the urge to existence and well-being” (BGE 196).
Every human being has a natural tendency to “make himself the mid-point
of the world” (BGE 197). Schopenhauer is not mild when discussing this
natural state of being; in fact, the source of most immorality lies with nature
itself, namely “the inborn essence of the human being, this God per excel-
lence of pantheism” (PP2). Indeed, Schopenhauer argues that human beings
are excessively violent or a “wild, horrible animal” whose cruelty extends
beyond what is necessary (PP2 225).
Human beings act for most of the time with this egoism as their fundamen-
tal imperative. What remains unclear is whether Schopenhauer would char-
acterize human agents who act with their own self-interest in mind ipso facto
as evil. What he is particularly clear about, however, is that no true morality
could derive from egoism; rather, it must rise against egoism. Schopenhauer
holds that “egoism is the first and principal power, though not the only one,21
that the moral incentive has to combat” (BGE 198). Therefore, Schopenhauer
must at least hold that no moral goodness could ever follow from egoistic
motivations, which does not necessarily imply that egoism itself is at all times
wrong. His view seems to be that an incentive that sets out to remove suffering
from other beings is good; an incentive that is primarily focused on removing
one’s own suffering is neutral; an incentive that is focused on removing one’s
own suffering at the expense of others or that is focused on augmenting
another being’s suffering is evil. Accordingly, a morally good action ought to
be one that opposes the egoism in neutral and evil actions—an opposition
that is generally called virtue. Schopenhauer names two virtues, namely jus-
tice (BGE 212–226) and loving kindness (BGE 226.230). These virtues are
still not the moral incentive, only the specific outward manifestations of the
moral incentive. Schopenhauer does not share Kant’s introspective agnos-
ticism in this matter: he is convinced that “we often act justly” (BGE 203),
i.e., on non-egoistic motives. Although we cannot conclusively exclude that
egoistic motives are more than likely the real motivating force behind certain
acts of justice and loving kindness, Schopenhauer is nevertheless convinced
that morality actually takes place—a point in which he is more optimistic
than Kant.
Justice and loving kindness spring from the opposition towards egoism,
and therefore must be motivated by means of a different incentive. Since all
possible incentives derive from confrontation with suffering, human agents
that act morally must also be confronted with suffering, only not their own.
To be affected by this suffering in a motivationally relevant way, human
agents must nevertheless accept the suffering of the other as their own. The
moral incentive thus takes the suffering of the other as its primary interest
without having any relevant self-interest in the matter. Schopenhauer then
defines the criterion of an action of moral worth as “the absence of all ego-
istic motivation”: any “self-interested motive”, if it is the sole motive, would
“entirely remove the moral worth of an action”, but if the self-interested
motive is co-determining, then the moral worth is only “reduced” (BGE 204).
So Schopenhauer believes that he has shown that if “the ultimate motivating
ground for an action, or an omission, resides directly and exclusively in the
well-being and woe of someone other”, then and only then does the action
deserve the “stamp of moral worth” (BGE 207). Accordingly, a moral action
could never follow from an egoistical motive and an immoral action can
never follow from an altruistic incentive. The basis for an altruistic motive
is that human agents recognize another being’s suffering as their own by, at
some level, acknowledging that “the distinction between him and me is no
longer an absolute one” (BGE 209).

This metaphysical backbone of Schopenhauerian compassion is, however,
touched on only relatively briefly in Schopenhauer’s Prize Essay because he
opts to “leave the metaphysical interpretation of this phenomenon untouched
for now” (BGE 209). Accordingly, the relationship between Schopenhauer’s
exegesis of compassion in WWV1 and the Prize Essay becomes clear: the
former focuses mainly on the metaphysical interpretation of the phenome-
non of compassion, while the latter investigates whether virtues flow from
compassion (BGE 210–249). Schopenhauer does delve, briefly, into a meta-
physical consideration with regard to compassion in the Prize Essay (BGE
260–275). While metaphysics may assist to make the moral incentive intelli-
gible, Schopenhauer does not require his readers to assent to any metaphys-
ical system in order to be moral: morality is purely a matter of feeling and
incentives, not rational postulates. Obviously, this does not dismiss that the
moral incentive is based on some equivocal form of metaphysical insight.
Kant also noted that moral agents have to postulate certain ‘metaphysical’
elements (such as a moral God and the immortality of the soul) so that their
moral system would be consistent and rationally comprehensive. Kant did
acknowledge that the moral incentive principally carries its own weight and
that these rational postulates are not a necessary condition of being moral—
only helpful ideas of reason that architectonically render moral agency holis-
tically coherent. Similarly, Schopenhauer notes that the riddle of the moral
incentive can be clarified by a metaphysical investigation and “the require-
ment that ethics be supported by metaphysics is indefeasible” (BGE 263).
All the necessary elements for a metaphysical foundation of compas-
sion have already been touched on, namely determinism, naturalism and
non-representational knowledge. First, determinism holds that every hap-
pening in the world (including human actions) is fully determined through
prior causes and empirical conditions. When applied to human agents, this
reads that every action is fully determined by the will and the individual
character interacting with certain empirical conditions. In this vein, it would
make no sense to require anyone to feel compassion since this is also an
act of will that is fully determined through antecedent causes and “virtue
is as little taught as genius” (WWV1 320). Therefore, Schopenhauer pro-
poses a descriptive ethics that merely describes when morality takes place
without requiring anyone to be moral: “Describing, without prescribing
[zu forschen, nicht vorzuschreien]” (WWV1 319). How far Schopenhauer
actually succeeds in building up such a non-normative ethics is contestable.
While he definitely distances himself from any uniform moral prescriptions
through a rational confrontation with the moral law as a fact of reason, his
moral system is not beyond justifying virtue as the proper course of action
since. As I will elaborate further below, virtue is, in the words of Julian
Young, “based on insight; viciousness is based on error, on a kind of blind-
ness”.22 Certain abstract concepts can work as motives for behavior or even
silence the will altogether. Accordingly, human agents are remiss if they do
not achieve some level of virtuousness since they will not have attained deep
metaphysical insight. One possible solution would be to refer to Schopen-
hauer’s determinism as equally pertaining to insight: one cannot be held
accountable for not showing proper insight since this is equally determined
through prior conditions.
Second, naturalism entails that there is no substantial or qualitative differ-
ence between different natural forms of life: at bottom, human beings, ani-
mals, plants, inorganic material and natural forces are all the same, namely
will. While Schopenhauer’s concept of will is usually written in full as ‘will to
life’, it is interesting that Schopenhauer’s first mention of the ‘will to life’ is
fairly late in WWV1 (WWV1 324), most likely because he believes that ‘will
to life’ is a pleonasm. Obviously, Kant and Nietzsche would probably dis-
agree with Schopenhauer’s ready dismissal of any other content to the will.
In this naturalist perspective, Schopenhauer holds that the will can exhibit
two forms of behavior: affirmation and negation of the will to life (WWV1
336). The former is the most common and most natural behavior, namely a
drive to maintain itself and the species; the latter is “manifest when willing
comes to an end with cognition” (WWV1 336). This negation of the will to
life follows up on cognition that is basically naturalistic, namely the accep-
tance that there is ultimately no difference between different instantiations
of the will and that all suffering is shared: “From the perspective of the true
nature of things, everyone must regard all the sufferings of the world as his
own” (WWV1 417).
Since compassion is ‘the total absence of all egoist motives’, then it must
also be the opposite of the affirmation of life. However, there is a prob-
lem here that Schopenhauer probably did not anticipate. The affirmation of
the will to life does not solely aim at the egoistical fulfillment of personal
whims and desires, but also at the preservation of the species. Accordingly,
a human being who heroically self-sacrifices to save another human being
can be doing this, not out of compassion, but out of a desire to preserve
the species. Would this then not be a moral action? Schopenhauer would
likely point out that the preservation of the species is virtually completely
occupied with procreation and protection of offspring, which is itself an
affirmation of the will to life. Accordingly, human beings’ egoism actually
reaches beyond themselves towards future generations whose ‘life’ they also
‘will’. Such motivations are equally egoistical because they settle a desire or
need in the human agent that momentarily provides satisfaction. However,
human agents have a chance for redemption in cognition that goes beyond
the individual body and reaches into future generation, namely to admit to
the futility of existence by refusing to procreate. When human agents give in
to their sexual urges, they let their insight be overpowered by their natural
instincts: “This is the deep reason for the shame associated with copulation”
(WWV1 388); “For have we not noticed how immediately after coitus one
hears the pealing laughter of the devil? which, seriously speaking, is based
on the fact that sexual lust is the quintessence of the whole fraud of this
noble world” (PP2 336).23 While all of this sounds rather counterintuitive,

Schopenhauer consistently argues that the highest good (i.e., a state free of
suffering) is not to be reached through any form of self-affirmation of the
will, be it egoism, procreation or suicide.
Third, only through some form of non-representational knowledge can
the natural affirmative instincts of humanity be numbed to such a level
that the moral incentives can get to work. Accordingly, there is no training,
exercise or practice of the human being’s natural instincts that will allow
him or her to reach the highest good, only a revolution brought about by
knowledge can accomplish this. Schopenhauer does not exclude, however,
that there might be people (i.e., saints) that are naturally so little inclined to
egoism that the moral incentive can, virtually naturally, get to work. These
are exceptions.
Compassion is the sole moral incentive, namely to be moved by a com-
plete and utter lack of any possible egoistic motive. Schopenhauer claims
to have deduced this synthetically in the Prize Essay and analytically in
WWV1 (BGE 263). Compassion is literally a state where one suffers
(passion/Leiden) jointly with (com/mit) another. Following Schopenhauer’s
naturalist and deterministic premises, compassion arises from the recogni-
tion of the ultimate oneness of everything and therefore the compassionate
person, literally, feels the pain of the other persons. Through feeling this
pain, the compassionate person takes up the goal of relieving the sufferer.
In WWV2, Schopenhauer defines ‘compassion’ as “the empirical coming to
the fore of the metaphysical identity of will throughout the physical plu-
rality of its phenomena” (WWV2 689–690). Accordingly, compassionate
persons allow themselves to become a vessel of the metaphysical will: their
selfish interests clear way for compassion. Two problems arise here. First,
numerous commentators have noticed that Schopenhauer has a somewhat
egoistical conception of compassion. Julian Young points out that the egoist
acts upon motives of self-interest, but the altruist similarly acts upon meta-
physical motives of self-interest:
After all, the altruist does act for the sake of his own interests, the only
difference between him and the egoist being that he acts for the sake
of the interest of his metaphysical rather than his empirical self, so,
we might put it, the empirical altruist turns out to be a metaphysical
egoist.24
Altruists recognize that the division between themselves and others is but
appearance (Tat twam asi: you are that) and while remaining self-interested,
they now do this on a higher (metaphysical) level. Similar objections have
been raised by Patrick Gardiner and David Hamlyn.25
These objections are based upon a twofold misunderstanding. The first
misunderstanding relates to a mistaken understanding of the practice of
compassion. According to this interpretation, compassion would be an act
of the imagination that mentally relocates oneself ‘in the skin’ of the other
and allows one to feel their pain.26 This is not how Schopenhauer describes
compassion. Compassion is to be understood as the recognition that the
difference between the self and the other is only illusory. Therefore, one
cannot place oneself in the place of the other, since there is no self and
there is no other. The pain is still in the other, but we experience his pain
because our self has become porous: “It remains clear and present to us at
every single moment that he is the sufferer, not us: and it is precisely in his
person, not in ours, that we feel the pain, to our distress. We suffer with
him, thus in him: we feel his pain as his, and do not imagine that it is ours”
(BGE 211–212).27 If this equally is a sense of egoism, it would certainly
be an odd one.
The second misunderstanding is more terminological. If we were to spec-
ify that egoists act upon illusory interests of their particular representa-
tional self and the altruist acts upon metaphysical motives of the true self,
the problem would disappear. While the altruist certainly has an interest,
this is hardly a selfish interest relating to his illusory self. David Cartwright
points out that this problem was already pointed out to Schopenhauer
by Johann Becker. Schopenhauer responded to Becker by identifying the
difference between the metaphysical essence of the individual and the indi-
vidual self: “Now of course you might even wish to assert your positioned
argument that even compassion alone with the virtues flowing out of it,
is egoistic, scilicet (= which is to say), because it rests on the cognition of
my own being in the other. But this argument only rests on the fact that
you want to take the expression “Me, once more” literally, whereas it is
actually a turn in the sense of a trope”.28 But if the removal of suffering
is the highest good Schopenhauer envisions, how can feeling the suffering
of someone else help us attain that highest good? When one accepts all
the suffering in the world as one’s own, one is moved through individual
virtues such as loving kindness and justice (BGE 212–230) and social vir-
tues such as a state (WWV1 403–414) to undo as much of it as possible.
However, this process has its limitations, which Schopenhauer duly notes,
namely if compassion is a part of the highest good, then there would still be
some suffering left in the individual. Accordingly, the highest possible good
for the individual to attain must be to forego all individuality. Compassion
is, for Schopenhauer, at most a stepping-stone to asceticism: “The moral
virtues are precisely not the ultimate purpose, but only a step toward it”
(WWV2 696).
Notes
1. René Descartes, Meditations on First Philosophy: With Selections from the
Objections and Replies. Edited by John Cottingham (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1986), p. 15.
and Judith Norman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), p. 122.
3. For a sustained argument of this claim in Nietzsche’s philosophy: Dennis Vanden
Auweele, ‘Noble Lies and Tragedy in Nietzsche’s Zarathustra’. In: International
Journal for Philosophy and Theology 74 (2013) 127–143.
4. Some have argued that Schopenhauer’s highest good is in fact a ‘second best’
highest good: Mark Migotti, ‘Schopenhauer’s Pessimism and the Unconditioned
Good’. In: Journal of the History of Philosophy 33 (1995) 643–660; Bernard
Reginster (2012), ‘Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Wagner’. In: A Companion to
Schopenhauer. Edited by Bart Vandenabeele (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2012),
pp. 349–366. For a different point of view: Christopher Janaway, ‘What’s so Good
about Negation of the Will? Schopenhauer and the Problem of the Summum
Bonum’. In: Journal for the History of Philosophy 24 (2016) pp. 649–669.
5. Samuel Kerstein, Kant’s Search for the Supreme Principle of Morality (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2002).
6. Günter Zöller calls the process of becoming selfless “the ideal development from
a will-centered to an intellect-centered self” (Günter Zöller, ‘Schopenhauer on the
Self’. In: The Cambridge Companion to Schopenhauer. Edited by Christopher
Janaway (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), p. 20). Schopenhauer
argues that initially the human self is completely absorbed by the will. In his
ethical philosophy, he then attempts to introduce certain forms of knowledge
into the self that negates this will-centeredness. However, when the self becomes
intellect-centered, it more or less ceases to be as an individual. Interestingly,
Zöller argues that this state is, despite Schopenhauer’s own emphasis to the
contrary (WWV1 487), an “altogether different form of selfhood” (Ibid., p. 35)
rather than the complete annihilation of selfhood. I will return to the exact inter-
pretation of this state of nothingness at the summit of Schopenhauer’s ethical
philosophy (chapter seven).
7. Ernst Cassirer was among the first to point out the profoundly hedonist nature
of Schopenhauer’s philosophy: Ernst Cassirer, Das Erkenntnisproblem im der
Philosophie und Wissenschaft der neuern Zeit. Band 3 (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche
Buchgesellschaft Darmstadt, 1974), pp. 442 ff.
8. For a reflection on the importance of this: William Desmond, ‘Schopenhauer’s
Philosophy of the Dark Origin’. In: A Companion to Schopenhauer. Edited by
Bart Vandenabeele (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2012), pp. 89–105.
9. Jordi Fernández, ‘Schopenhauer’s Pessimism’. In: Philosophy and Phenomenological
Research 73 (2006) 648.
10. Ibid., p. 655.
11. Ibid., p. 657.
12. Christopher Janaway, ‘Schopenhauer’s Pessimism’. In: The Cambridge Companion
to Schopenhauer. Edited by Christopher Janaway (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1999), pp. 318–343. See also: Cartwright, 1988, pp. 51–67.
13. Cartwright, 2010, p. 20.
14. Emmanuel Levinas, ‘Useless Suffering’. In: The Provocation of Levinas:
Rethinking the Other. Edited by Robert Bernasconi and David Wood (London:
Routledge, 1988), p. 160.
15. On one occasion, Schopenhauer does engage Leibniz on theodicy more head-on.
In Schopenhauer’s view, the idea that existence is good derives from a Jewish
superstition which is demonstratively false: “But a God such as Jehovah, who
wantonly and for pleasure creates this world of distress and misery and then
even applauds himself with ‘everything was very good’—that is unbearable
(PP2 319). To this, Schopenhauer then adds the following: “Even if Leibniz’s
demonstration were correct that among all the possible worlds this one is still
the best, still this does not represent a theodicy. For the creator did not create
merely the world, but also possibility itself; accordingly he should have arranged
the possibility in such a way as to allow for a better world” (PP2 320).
16. Mark Migotti, for instance, primarily analyzes Schopenhauer’s arguments for
pessimism as a ‘prohairetic thesis’ to which a ‘metaphysical’ and ‘conative’ thesis
are added in corroboration. In Migotti’s view, Schopenhauer’s primary interest

in establishing pessimism is to vindicate the point that “life as such is not worthy
of choice” (Migotti, 1995, p. 646). The establishment of this prohairetic thesis
is then, in his view, marred by inconsistencies and evidential absurdities (Ibid.,
pp. 648–650).
17. Ryan, 2010, p. 127.
18. Paul Guyer, ‘Schopenhauer, Kant and Compassion’. In: Kantian Review 17
(2012) 403–429.
19. For an extended and sustained discussion of Kant’s theory of moral educa-
tion and the importance he ascribes to religion in this respect: Dennis Vanden
Auweele, ‘Kant on Religious Moral Education’. In: Kantian Review 21 (2016)
373–394.
20. Richard McCarty, Kant’s Theory of Action (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2009).
21. Schopenhauer contrasts justice as the opposing force to egoism and loving kind-
ness as the opposing force to ill-will and spitefulness. Schopenhauer’s character-
ization of ill-will and spitefulness is especially interesting because here he claims
to find a positive and explicit desire for evil that does not refer back to egoism.
Even Kant noted the devilishness in envy and jealousy (RGV 27). Schopenhauer,
however, reserves the predicate ‘devilish’ for Schadenfreunde (taking pleasure in
another’s misfortune) because he is convinced that envy and jealousy are typi-
cally human (PP2 229–230).
22. Young, 2005, p. 174.
23. Schopenhauer exerted significant influence on psychoanalytic philosophers such
as Freud and Jung (Richard Bilsker, ‘Freud and Schopenhauer: Consciousness,
the Unconscious and the Drive towards Death’. In: Idealistic Studies 27 (1997)
79–90; cf. Young, 2005, pp. 238–241; Wicks, 2008, pp. 153–154). While
Schopenhauer consistently maintains a depreciative attitude towards procre-
ation, he does so for psychological and metaphysical reasons, not moral ones.
Obviously, the demoralization of sexual encounters was a vital premise for
the possibility of Freud’s research into the psychological conditions of sexual
deviances. Schopenhauer acknowledged that procreation is a powerful force
(maybe even the most powerful one), even though it clearly baffled him how
much importance is generally ascribed to love and procreation: “For love, how-
ever ethereal it may be in its bearing, is always rooted in the sex drive [. . .] if
we consider the important role played by sexual love in all its gradations and
nuances [. . .] it continuously lays claim to half the powers and thoughts of the
younger portion of humanity [. . .] interrupts the most serious pursuits of any
hour, sometimes sets even the greatest minds into confusion for a while [. . .] thus
enters the scene on the whole as a hostile demon intent on perverting, confusing,
and overturning everything, then we are occasioned to cry out: To what end all
the noise? To what end all the pressing, raging, anxiety and hardship?” (WWV2:
SW 3.608–609). Perhaps it is worth nothing that Schopenhauer himself never
managed a stable, fulfilling and lasting relationship with any woman.
24. Young, 2005, p. 183.
25. Gardiner, 1963, pp. 276 ff.; Hamlyn, 1980, p. 45.
26. See: Jacquette, 2005, p. 229; Wicks, 2008, p. 116.
27. See also: Neil Jordan, Schopenhauer’s Ethics of Patience: Virtue, Salvation, and
Value (Lewiston: The Edwin Mellen Press, 2009), pp. 80 ff.
28. Letter 204 to Johann Becker—unpublished translation by Carol Diethe. For
discussion: David Cartwright, ‘Compassion and Solidarity with Sufferers: The
Metaphysics of Mitleid’. In: European Journal of Philosophy 16 (2008) 292–310;
cf. Bernard Reginster (2012), ‘Autonomy and the Self as the Basis of Morality’.
In: The Cambridge Companion to Philosophy in the Nineteenth Century. Edited

by Allen Wood and Songsuk Hahn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2012), pp. 421–423.
5 Schopenhauer’s Philosophy
of Religion
Kant believed that authentic, moral religion is a vehicle for practical moral-
ity that could appeal to finite and fragile human agents so as to strengthen
their moral resolve. The overt moral dimension of Kant’s discussion of reli-
gion was interpreted in the early 19th century as a reduction of religion
to certain morally beneficial functions. The standard objections that were
raised were threefold. First, Kant would have mistakenly underestimated
the historical dimension of faith by focusing merely on its transcendental,
ahistorical function. Second, Kant would have mitigated the uniqueness of
Christianity by rendering its beliefs and creeds replaceable moral symbols—
especially Kant’s Christology in Religion II was a stumbling block, not least
to the theological censor! Finally, Kant would have underestimated the
importance of God’s volition (creation and incarnation) by including God
merely as a focus imaginarius to architectonically self-enclose the system of
practical reason.1 While initially Hegel’s philosophy was believed to remedy
these difficulties, theologians soon became dissatisfied with Hegel’s philoso-
phy of religion as well—especially Schelling’s Berlin lectures (1840 onwards)
proved of great importance.2
While Schopenhauer’s philosophy is in many ways highly akin to Roman-
ticism and to Schelling’s later philosophy, his reflections on religion tend
to take their cues more from Kant’s philosophy of religion. The similari-
ties between Schopenhauer’s assessment of religion and Kant’s project are
uncanny. Still, there is little to no textual evidence that Schopenhauer at any
point in his life studied Kant’s Religion within the Bounds of Mere Rea-
son (1793). With the exception of mentioning twice the ‘Kingdom of Ends’
(WWV2 184; BGE 165), which Schopenhauer likely took from Kant’s ethi-
cal works (else he would have said ‘Kingdom of God’), there is not a single
subject of Kant’s Religion that is explicitly mentioned throughout Schopen-
hauer’s books—not radical evil, not moral regeneration, not the archetype
of perfection, etc. Moreover, the two prominent biographies of Schopen-
hauer by David Cartwright (2010) and Rudiger Safranski (2000) found not
a single mention (in his published works or elsewhere) of Kant’s Religion-
schrift. Schopenhauer was aware that Kant was troubled by the theological
authorities—which arose because of Kant’s Religion—but Schopenhauer
Schopenhauer’s Philosophy of Religion 157
gives no further details (WWV1 609). Schopenhauer did read Schelling’s
Freiheitsschrift closely, where Schelling engages Kant’s Religion, and so
Schopenhauer must have at least some notions of Kant’s view of religion.
In a word, Schopenhauer argues that authentic (i.e., pessimistic) religion
is metaphysical truth clothed in allegory for the masses “of whom thinking
cannot be asked” (WWV2 184). The predicate ‘authentic’ suggests something
of a twofold commitment of Schopenhauer in his assessment of religion:
religion namely has a proper purpose and can accomplish this purpose only
as enlisted in a larger, i.e., moral and systematic, philosophical framework.

This already puts some distance in between Schopenhauer and Romanticism
in their appreciation of religion, since for Romanticism religion was about
something exceeding or preceding systematic philosophy. For Schopenhauer,
religions are basically an ersatz-means for communicating philosophical
insight. Historical religion as such is of little to no interest to him despite
what his frequent applause for some of the tenets and figures in Christian-
ity, Buddhism and Hinduism might suggest. Schopenhauer instead believes
that religions can allegorically portray the truth to human agents that are
unable to attain these insights via philosophical reasoning. In this chapter, I
will elaborate on Schopenhauer’s general appreciation of religion as a means
for moral agency. What is particularly telling here is that Schopenhauer has
significantly more appreciation for religions that emphasize human deprav-
ity and the nullity of worldly works than those that would paint a more
optimistic picture of human nature. There is a potential danger to religion,
however, since these might impede philosophical progress by forgetting their
allegorical character.
Section 1: Kant’s Religionsschrift as a Preamble

to Schopenhauer’s Philosophy of Religion
Extensive and comprehensive discussion of Kant’s views in his Religion
within the Bounds of Mere Reason would require a monograph in itself,
and many have been published in recent years.3 Yet none of these reference
Schopenhauer’s views of religion as a continuation of Kant. When Schopen-
hauer’s philosophy of religion is under discussion, this leads only to marginal
comments about Kant. These comments often even only indicate Schopen-
hauer’s distance from Kant. For instance, in Matthias Kossler’s monumen-
tal account of Schopenhauer’s stance towards ethics and Christian religion,
the primary conversation partners are Augustine, Thomas and Luther—not
Kant.4 In his otherwise compelling account of Schopenhauer’s views of reli-
gion, Christopher Ryan only marginally discusses Kant. The most exten-
sive engagement with Kant’s philosophy of religion comes when discussing
the regulative function of religious ideas. Kant believes that religious ideas
are regulative, and Schopenhauer vehemently denied this. For Schopenhauer,
religions have often given cause for violence and intolerance, and have not
regulated human progress. The more interesting conversation partner for
158 Schopenhauer’s Philosophy of Religion
Schopenhauer’s views of religion is, according to Ryan, Indian philosophy
and religion.5 Another scholar, Gerard Mannion, comes to a similar conclu-
sion. This is somewhat odd because Mannion recognizes that Schopenhauer
is not a militant atheist and that religion is an essential concern for Kant and
Schopenhauer both. By focusing only on Schopenhauer’s opposition to Kant
with regard to ethics, Mannion leaves the similarities in their appreciation of
religion to one side. Schopenhauer indeed attacked the ‘theological basis’ of
Kant’s ethics, which, Mannion alleges, implies that there can be no positive
engagement with Kant’s views of religion.6 I would beg to differ.

The purpose behind Kant’s philosophy of religion is best discerned from
his introductory remarks to the second edition of his Religionsschrift. In
that introduction, he distinguishes between two aspects of religion: its
essence and its historically contingent elements. Elsewhere, he calls these
“the canon of religion” and “its organon or vehicle” (SF 36). The former is
“pure religious faith” and the latter “ecclesiastical faith” (SF 37). This trans-
lates into two important experiments that are carried out throughout this
book (the German term for experiment is Versuch). In the first experiment,
Kant details the essentials of a pure religious faith. In order to accomplish
this, he must abstract from all possible empirical data and detail the essen-
tial, abstract features of how morality rationally extends towards religion.
To test whether a specific historical religion is in accordance with this bare
essence of religion will be Kant’s ‘second experiment’:
To start from some alleged revelation or other and, abstracting from

the pure religion of reason (so far as it constitutes a system on its own),
to hold fragments of this revelation, as a historical system, up to moral
concepts, and see whether it does not lead back to the same pure ratio-
nal system of religion.
(RGV 12)
These two experiments are consistently being carried out throughout Reli-
gion. This means that Kant is not at all hostile towards historical religion,
but that this in fact serves as a vehicle for a deeper, purer truth (Schopen-
hauer will argue in exactly the same fashion). Historical beliefs are the cloth-
ing for the otherwise naked message of pure religion. Regrettably, the clothes
have not always best flattered the body of pure religion! A lot of religious
doctrines have wavered from their moral justification and some historical
faiths have strayed from pure, moral faith altogether (Schopenhauer will
worry about the exact same thing).
Throughout the four parts of Kant’s Religionsschrift, Kant investigates
how a pure rational religion posits a number of moral concepts (pure
religious faith). The first part treats the notion of radical evil; the second
part discusses how one combats this evil individually; the third part dis-
cusses how one combats this evil communally; the fourth part discusses
the authentic and counterfeit service to God in a moral religion. Kant
consistently follows up this first experiment with a second one: testing
whether a certain historical religion (i.e., Christianity) lives up to the rigor-
ous standards of purely rational religion. In other words, are the Christian
notions and forms of original sin, Christology, ecclesiology and religious
service in tune with rational religion (the answer is remarkably positive—
at least according to Kant).
Like Kant, Schopenhauer objects to the metaphysical elements of Christi-
anity. They do so for different reasons, however. For Kant, this is a matter of
speculative agnosticism (we cannot know anything beyond possible experi-

ence); for Schopenhauer, this is a matter of truth and deception (Christian
metaphysics can easily lead to optimism). There is nevertheless a practical
element that both find promising: (Christian) religion can inspire and cul-
tivate moral action. Kant held that a properly circumspect form of Chris-
tianity can use symbols and practices that appeal to embodied agents in
order to cultivate the proper disposition (Gesinnung) towards the moral
law. Important elements in here are a certain interpretation of an innate pro-
pensity to evil, a Christology that cultivates the moral courage to undertake
our moral duties (not teaching what to do, rather showing that it is possible
to follow moral duty) and an ecclesiology that unites human beings in an
invisible, universal, moral community that inspires cooperation rather than
adversity. These happen to be three elements central to Christianity: human
finitude, Christ as a savior and the Church as the historical body of Christ.
This means that Kant looks for a universal message behind certain histor-
ical, and therefore contingent, religious practices. When it comes to this,
Schopenhauer is on board with Kant. Consider his thoughts on Christology,
for instance:
We should always interpret Jesus Christ universally, as the symbol or

personification of the negation of the will to life, not as an individ-
ual, according to either his mythological history in the Gospels or the
presumably true history that grounds it. It is difficult to be completely
satisfied with either the one or the other. It is merely the vehicle of that
first interpretation for the people, who always require something factual.
(WWV1 480)
This passage could be written by Kant or Schopenhauer (if one ignores the
reference to the ‘negation of the will to life’). Both thinkers namely empha-
size three very similar things. First, the universal message behind religious
doctrines is what ultimately matters. Second, the historical/mythological ori-
gin (Ursprung) of this notion is significantly less important that its rational
ground (Grund). In two letters, one to Johann Caspar Lavater and the other
to Friedrich Heinrich Jacobi, Kant clarifies the distinction between a philo-
sophical and historical account of Christology. In the former, he elaborates
on a distinction between the doctrine of Christ and the teachings about
the doctrine of Christ, emphasizing the importance of separating the moral
teachings from any Evangelical account of Christ (10:176). And in the latter,
Kant clarifies that the most important aspect of a Christology is the univer-
sal, ahistorical idea of Christ and the Evangelical, historical account—or
even the historical origin of that idea—is a side issue or Nebensache (11:76).
Third, despite Kant’s and Schopenhauer’s mutual relegation of a histori-
cal account of Christ to a Nebensache, they realize that human beings are
greatly served by ‘something factual’, since this serves as a vehicle (a term
Kant frequently uses) for the deeper message of religion.
This approach to Christianity as a vehicle for a universal message ger-

mane to all authentic religions is not the approach most people take to
Christianity. In other words, work is to be done, and Kant recommends
his Religionsschrift as course material for clergymen in training (RGV 10).
This will provide the possibility of disseminating his message to the broader
public. Schopenhauer did not have such a grand plan of reform, but he does
diagnose ‘contemporary Christianity’ as straying from its authentic purpose
(more on this below). In its authentic form, Christianity—but also Buddhism
and Hinduism—provides certain narrative elements that can allegorically
inspire human beings to take up a proper report towards existence, namely
pessimism and compassion. For both Kant and Schopenhauer, religion has a
systematic purpose to fulfill.
Section 2: Religion—Part of the System or Anti-System?

While Schopenhauer elaborates at length on religion in WWV1 (§ 63–68)
after assessing that any political system cannot provide a proper orientation
towards ethics and ascetics, this assessment comes off as somewhat strange
and unprepared. As such, it is best placed in light of Schopenhauer’s more
systematic presentation of the value of religion in WWV2 (§ 17) and PP2
(chapter XV). The three of these co-constitute the bulk of Schopenhauer’s
‘philosophy of religion’, much like the Dialectic of Practical Reason and
Religion within the Bounds of Mere Reason represent Kant’s philosophy of
religion.
What is noteworthy is that most of Schopenhauer’s (positive) notes on
the subject of religion came fairly late in his philosophical development and
even those remarks in WWV1 (originally published in 1818) are for the
most part additions to the later editions of 1844 and 1859. This suggests
that Schopenhauer did not turn to the possible merits of religion during the
heyday of German Romanticism, but came to it relatively late in his own
philosophical development (when Romanticism was already waning) after
being progressively more and more exposed to Indian Brahmanism. Inter-
estingly, learning more about Indian religions made Schopenhauer more
willing to recognize the merits of Christianity. But since this happened rela-
tively late in his philosophical development, religion is primarily a parergon
that was added later to his philosophy, rather than an essential aspect of
his core message. As he himself emphasizes, he did not take any guidance
from Brahmanism in his philosophy, but was happy to find his insights
affirmed in this Oriental religion—whether the same could be said about
Christianity is a different matter altogether (see below). This also explains
a central and decisive difference between the Romantic and Schopenhau-
er’s appreciation of religion: Schopenhauer was happy to attribute to reli-
gion a systematic, philosophical purpose. Schopenhauer first establishes a
systematic philosophy and assigns a purpose to religion from within that
philosophical system.
Schopenhauer’s strategy is, then, not at all dissimilar to Hegel’s philoso-

phy of religion where religion is one moment in the self-realization of objec-
tive spirit from art, over religion, to philosophy. The Romantics, however,
believed, contrary to Hegel and Schopenhauer, that religion was able to
inform systematic philosophy so that it could come to a more comprehen-
sive view of reality beyond the negativity of merely systematic philosophy.
For instance, the later Schelling emphasized that idealistic philosophy was
primarily negative and turns most concepts into immanent formations of
reason. There is, however, according to Schelling, a somewhat rebellious
other-than-logical dimension to thought that traditional philosophy was
unable to grasp. This dimension could more potently be framed from the
viewpoint of religion, mythology and art.7 Against the Romantics, Schopen-
hauer frames religion within a holistic, systematic purpose rather than
allowing religion to challenge the self-complacency of that system. Like art,
religion has a part to play that it principally fulfills less adequately than
philosophy. Schopenhauer’s general approach is thus systematic and, in this
respect at least, closer to Kant and Hegel than to Schelling and the other
Romantics. Regrettably, Schopenhauer’s early admirers, such as Richard
Wagner (who held that art and religion cannot ultimately be separated),
read Schopenhauer as arguing that religion is a more potent expression of
the dark origin of existence and therefore it is more appropriate to remedy
the ‘cultural crisis’ that befell Germany. From one angle, Wagner was right to
point out how Schopenhauer argued against German idealistic philosophy
and its (over)fondness for rationality and systematicity. From another angle,
Wagner conveniently overlooked the fact that religion remains enlisted in
a systematic, philosophical—even metaphysical, by his own admission!—
purpose throughout Schopenhauer’s philosophy.
In a note added in 1844, Schopenhauer succinctly summarizes his gen-
eral outlook on religion so as to help the reader to understand, already in
WWV1, his general hermeneutic strategy with regard to religion: “This is the
purpose of religious doctrines, which are all mythological cloaks for truths
that are inaccessible to the untutored human senses” (WWV1 420). The
introduction of the topic of religion ensues after Schopenhauer expounds
his esoteric interpretation of ‘eternal justice’, i.e., the ultimate retribution for
any offence (cf. PP2 232–233). In Schopenhauer’s view, metaphysical insight
teaches us that the distinction between different individuals is only appar-
ent, which gives rise to the thought of eternal justice. Namely, if someone
inflicts pain or injustice on another, that person is really inflicting it upon
himself (from a higher viewpoint). If absorbed powerfully enough, meta-
physical insight reaches a point where instead of seeing offender and sufferer
as separate, “the two become one” (WWV1 414). Ultimately, this signals a
state of justice in the world, namely “if we could put all the misery of the
world on one side of a scale, and all the guilt of the world on the other, the
pointer would certainly vouch for this” (WWV1 416); or, “the world itself is
the world tribunal, the Last Judgment”8 (WWV1 416). Most people do not
naturally appreciate the distribution of happiness and suffering in the world

in this way, and many will claim that suffering (punishment) and happiness
(reward) are inappropriately distributed. In fact, this observation moved Kant,
in the Dialectic of the Second Critique, to postulate the existence of God
so as to obtain something akin to ‘eternal justice’. In Schopenhauer’s view,
however, the distinction between different things in the world is illusory and
“everyone must regard all the sufferings of the world as his own” (WWV1
417) or “the tormenter and the tormented are one” (WWV1 419). Accord-
ingly, we do not need a God to supernaturally balance the scale, since reality
itself provides this equilibrium.
The insight into eternal justice is philosophical, but can be expressed reli-
giously as well. In Christian religion, Christians are rewarded for their vir-
tue with happiness in the afterlife. According to Schopenhauer, this renders
some forms of Christianity ‘optimistic’ since it aligns ‘works’ (virtue) with
‘happiness’. A pessimistic religion, like the Indian Upanishads, expresses the
insight that the world itself is its tribunal and that all are one in Brahma
(WWV1 420). This insight will work as countermeasure against our desire
for happiness, but also will stay our hand from retribution, since we realize
that there is no injustice in our state of misery: happiness and punishment
are perfectly balanced. This issue illustrates Schopenhauer’s general strategy
with regard to religion, namely to provide philosophical insight by means of
allegory and symbol.
Section 3: The Boons of Religion

The major boon of religion is that it can allegorically convey profound
metaphysical insight and, as a result, lead to moral agency or even saintly
self-abnegation. The term ‘metaphysical insight’ is carefully chosen. Schopen-
hauer argues that (dogmatic) philosophy and religion—together these are the
whole of metaphysics—have a common ground, namely a state of wonder
that is itself inspired by “knowledge of death and [the] consideration of life’s
suffering and hardship” (WWV2 176). This awareness of (the approach of)
death engenders a very specific desire, which is itself an expression of will to
life, namely a desire for “survival after death” (WWV2 177). Human beings
need metaphysics, then, to find a way to cope with death, perhaps even to
provide a form of ‘immortality’. So metaphysics is quite literally the desire
to carry our physical being beyond (meta) the physical. Schopenhauer’s
definition of metaphysics, which includes both philosophy and religion, is
then as follows:
All supposed cognizance that goes beyond the possibility of experience,

and so beyond nature or things in their given phenomenon, in order to
inform us as to how, in one or another sense, they are conditioned, or,
to put it in popular terms, as to that which is behind nature and makes
it possible.
(WWV2 180)
Broadly speaking, metaphysics is the inquiry into that ‘which is behind

nature’—assuming there is ‘something’ behind nature—in order to discover
in which way ‘nature’ is conditioned by something else. Schopenhauer prob-
ably unknowingly wavers here between two different possible translations
of the Greek meta, namely as either ‘beyond’ or ‘in the midst’, i.e., that which
conditions nature should be found ‘in the midst’ as well as ‘beyond’ nature.
Due to Schopenhauer’s monistic and naturalistic understanding of reality,
he puts the natural and supernatural on a continuum rather than a rigor-
ist dualism: nature implies supernature (and vice versa). Slightly coarsely
put, Schopenhauer mediates between a reading of ontology by Kant and
Hegel: while Kant is suggesting a strong dualism between the conditioned
and unconditioned, Hegel argues for a strong sense of continuity and inter-
action between nature and the absolute. Notwithstanding the very strong
naturalist tendencies in Schopenhauer’s general philosophy, one would do
well to equally note Schopenhauer’s Kantian heritage that, to some degree,
still separates the in itself from natural things—although only epistemolog-
ically, not ontologically.
Philosophy and religion, then, primarily emerge from the troubling con-
frontation with death and subsequently attempt to provide solace and suc-
cor in the face of impending destruction. The decisive difference between
philosophy and religion lies, then, not in their respective projects, but in
their means of justification: the former is justified “in itself” while the lat-
ter is justified “outside itself” (WWV2 180); in other words, philosophy is
based on “conviction” while religion is based on “faith” (WWV2 181); in
yet other words, philosophy expresses truth “sensu proprio” and religion
expresses truth “sensu allegorico” (WWV2 183). The aim of philosophy
and religion is nevertheless the very same, namely “to be true” (WWV2
209). Metaphysics is untrue if optimistic and true if pessimistic. As long
as philosophy remains an optimistic attempt to explain reality, it will be
dogmatic and misguided. Schopenhauer believes that Kant put a halt to
dogmatic philosophy by principally separating philosophy from theology
(which hints that Schopenhauer believed that Kant was already somewhat of
a pessimist). What Kant did not put as emphatically as Schopenhauer, how-
ever, is that religion, at its best, is able to express by means of allegories the
same truth as philosophy. This means that truth is found in philosophy and
religion both, but not if these are being guided by something ‘external’, such
as partisan interest or self-deceived optimism. The truth has to be found in the
self-contemplation of the individual, not in human institutions or dialogue:
We can thus compare the dogmatists, taken altogether, with people who
think that they will come to the end of the world if they keep going
straight on for long enough. But then Kant sailed around the world and
showed that because it is round, we will not escape by moving horizon-
tally, but it might not be impossible if we move vertically. You could also
say that Kant’s doctrine makes us realize that we need not look beyond
ourselves for the beginning and the end of the world, but rather within.
(WWV1 498)
Philosophy and religion have to communicate their findings to the people,

however, and should know and respect their respective audiences and meth-
odologies. Schopenhauer finds it to be awkward, even dangerous, for either
religion to seek validation in philosophy (fides quarens intellectum) or phi-
losophy to be consummated in religion (PP2 382–383). In the first case,
Schopenhauer summons Luther and Augustine’s testimony in their rebellion
against Pelagianism that “seeks to reduce everything to banal intelligibility”
(WWV2 184) and, in the second case, Schopenhauer is revolted by the notion
that a great mind like “a Shakespeare, a Goethe” would have to “adopt the
dogmas of some religion as his conviction [which] is like demanding that a
giant put on the shoes of a dwarf” (WWV2 185–186).
Religion and philosophy are, then, best kept separated and should address
their respective audiences, i.e., for religion the masses and for philosophy the
few intellectuals. This signals a fundamental sense of elitism in Schopenhau-
er’s philosophy. This might seem awkward given that Schopenhauer, in some
places, is particularly harsh on those philosophical and especially moral sys-
tems that profess serious difference between (groups of) individual human
beings (and even between human and non-human animals). Schopenhauer
becomes particularly combative when discussing the slave trade, which is
an “infamous stain on the whole of humanity” (PP2 226). A significant part
of the exploitation of slaves, and proletarians more generally, is due to the
fact that ‘the few’ cannot imagine life without their luxuries: “A great part
of the powers of the human race is withdrawn from the production of what
is necessary to all in order to secure what is superfluous and dispensable for
a few” (PP2 262). In tune with some of the socialist movements overtaking
parts of Europe at that time, Schopenhauer reveals himself as a militant
proponent of the view that all are created equal.
From this perspective, Schopenhauer’s claim of a real and fairly radical
distinction between the philosophical few and the religious many appears
awkward. But obviously, political and moral equality does not imply intel-
lectual equality! Schopenhauer is, like Nietzsche after him, very sensitive to
the fact that not all human beings have the same capacities. For instance, not
all human beings have the capacity to be a genius, which Schopenhauer calls
the “aristocracy of nature” (PP1 177). Schopenhauer nevertheless relates
political equality slightly to intellectual equality, since not everyone was
enabled to enjoy a thorough education. He justifies this by pointing out
how the sustained progress of the production process (e.g., the industrial
revolution) did not come about because of the workers, but because of the
reflection and leisure of idle minds. This could potentially lead to a “certain
universality of the intellectual culture of the human race” (PP2 263)—even
though Schopenhauer is rather skeptical about whether such a ‘utopia’ is

realizable (PP2 264). Adding to this latter argument, Schopenhauer empha-
sizes that
the great herd of the human race always and everywhere requires lead-
ers, guides and counsellors in manifold forms, according to the business
at hand, such as judges, rulers, military commanders, officials, priests,
physicians, scholars, philosophers and so on, all of whom have the task
of leading this extremely incompetent and for the most part misguided
race through the labyrinth of life.
(PP2 264)
This means that Schopenhauer advances moral equality among human

beings, but refrains from extending such equality on a political, social and
intellectual level. Humanity is served by these inequalities so as to provide
necessary guidance and education to the masses, as well as propel human
society as a whole on ahead. Religion is, then, one slightly paternalistic aspect
of Schopenhauer’s theory, which the elite few extend to the vulgar many.
By emphasizing the radical distinction between the masses and the few, as
well as the incommensurability of philosophy and religion, Schopenhauer’s
views contrast rather strikingly with respect to the Religionsphilosophie of
Kant, Hegel and Schleiermachter. Their perspectives on religion proved to
be more ecumenical and attempted to close the distance between philos-
ophy and religion by enlisting both in a similar, progressive and even his-
torical project by showing their profound, inner similarities. Schopenhauer
distances himself from this by emphasizing the utter incommensurability
of reason and faith, while exposing the inner need from which both spring.
For instance, Kant’s Religion is often read as one of the first attempts in
Religionsphilosophie, which is an attempt to interpret “given religions and
to explain what is true sensu allegorico through something that is true sensu
proprio” (WWV2 185). Kant’s talk of rational faith is, in Schopenhauer’s
view, a “strange hermaphrodite or centaur”, or a “kind of Gnostic wisdom”
(WWV2 185). I am highly hesitant about whether this was truly the purpose
of Kant’s philosophy of religion. Most of the 19th-century idealists did read
Kant as such. This reading can be traced back to one Gottlob Christian
Storr (1746–1805), who published a number of notes to Kant’s first edi-
tion of the Religionsschrift, entitled Annotationes quaedam theologiae ad
philosophicam Kantii de religione doctrinam (1793). Kant planned a reply
to Storr but never explicitly delivered this. Storr was a professor of the
famous Tübinger Stift, where he taught Kant’s philosophy to, among others,
Schelling and Hegel.9 This might explain the general tendency of reading
Kant’s Religionsschrift in this way.
Schopenhauer is even more vocal when discussing Hegel in this respect.
By calling nature the (expression of) God, Hegel similarly dangerously con-
flated religious myth and philosophical concepts. It is in this spirit that Jörg
Salaquarda has claimed that “Schopenhauer has not written a philosophy

of religion”.10 Salaquarda is here following Schopenhauer’s own definition
of Religionsphilosophie and does not deny that Schopenhauer has philo-
sophically reflected on the subject of religion. In fact, Schopenhauer’s own
dealings with religion are a different sense of Religionsphilosophie, namely
to extrapolate from religions what is beneficial for moral and theoretical
instruction. Schopenhauer then truthfully exposes the authentic core of reli-
gion instead of merely trying to interpret religions in accordance with some
prior philosophical system. As such, one could get to the same basic truth
through philosophy as well as religion, only by different means. Another
probable reason why Schopenhauer distances himself from Religionsphi-
losopie of Kant and Hegel is that neither of these had seriously considered
Oriental religions, while Schopenhauer elevates some of these above the
significantly more optimistic Western religions.11
The boons of religion are that they are able to accomplish for the masses
what philosophy is able to do for the few. In this, Schopenhauer is quite clear:
at present, humanity is in need of religion. He is even quite frightened about
the morally pernicious effects of scientific progress, since this could lead to a
level of unbelief that not only rejects the specific dogma’s of a certain faith,
but also its spirit: “This disbelief threatens to reject not only the form of Chris-
tianity, but also the spirit and sense of Christianity (which extend much far-
ther than Christianity itself) and to deliver humankind to moral materialism”
(WN xii). Schopenhauer is obviously not keen on the specific dogmas and
empirical propositions of religions, but he is convinced that religion is able
to provide certain practices, rites, symbols and theoretical propositions that,
if taken as a tenet of faith, can quiet down the will to life. As such, religion
provides the philosophical truth dressed up in allegory. In his Hume-inspired
dialogue On Religion, Schopenhauer gives voice to this dimension of religion
through his mouthpiece Demopheles, friend of the people. However, this dia-
logue also has a different participant, namely Philalethes (friend of truth),
for which Schopenhauer appears to have considerable sympathy. Philalethes
warns Demopheles about the dangers of religion.
Section 4: The Dangers of Religion

Religion is not to be made logical, intelligible or rational, and philosophy
is not to be made religious. This is the first potential danger inherent to the
practice of religion: while religion is in essence a symbolic and allegoric prac-
tice, it has to present these symbols and allegories as literal truth. As such,
the clothing of that religion can gradually become more important to the
average believer than its allegorical message, and philosophers might equally
venture astray in paying too much heed to the literal message of religion.
Schopenhauer attributes the latter error particularly to Hegel: by calling
nature (the expression of) God, Hegel conflates religious with philosophical
language.12 If left unchecked, religion can become dangerous, since it could
gain a foothold in philosophy.

But this is not the only danger inherent to religion. While the masses
require religion for their education, the historical progress of mankind might
be slowed down by religion. Religion is appropriate only for those of ‘whom
thinking cannot be asked’ and if a society evolves to a point where ‘thinking’
can be asked of everyone, religion would become obsolete. Schopenhauer at
times voices remarkable optimism that Western society would slowly come
to terms with the self-evidence of his version of, for lack of a better word,
atheism after Kant had, in his view at least, conclusively shown that there is
no rational defense of theism: “And so we may hope that Europe, too, will
someday be cleansed of all Judaic mythology” (PP2 241; cf. UWS 123–129).
To him, theism (or religion in general) has always had its proper foundation
in faith in revelation rather than in reason: “The existence of God is a mat-
ter of revelation and thereby unshakably established, it requires no human
confirmation” (UWS 129). Schopenhauer believes, however, that Western
civilization has come to a point where faith is no longer enough and people
need ‘conviction’ (e.g., UWS 123–129). In Schopenhauer’s view, Kant’s First
Critique is a symptom of Western society’s impetus for stable and proper
knowledge, which also implies leaving behind the chains of dogma and
instruction. The onslaught of process could very well be slowed or even
halted completely by the doings of religion. Or worse, religion could become
a permanent and necessary commodity for humanity!
In his dialogue On Religion, Philalethes expresses profound hope that
religion will at one point no longer be necessary for humanity: “We do not
want to give up hope that mankind will one day reach the point of maturity
and culture where they are on the one hand capable of producing and on
the other hand of adopting the true philosophy” (PP2 357). Demopheles, his
conversation partner, immediately warns that he has “no adequate concept
of the miserable capacity of the masses” (PP2 357). Philalethes nuances his
opinion in response and claims that he is “only [expressing] this as a hope”,
one that he “cannot give up” (PP2 357). Schopenhauer’s mission, then, is to
develop a hermeneutical tool that interprets and reformats religions in such
a way that they can be beneficial for mankind for the time they remain a
necessary commodity. This returns us to the core business of religion, namely
to present to those that are (at the moment) incapable of sober philosoph-
ical insight the necessary religious allegories and symbols that can work
similarly as abstract knowledge, i.e., that numb the will from constantly
generating new desires. Religious myths, stories, practices and rites are, to
Schopenhauer, nothing more than a somewhat paternalistic attempt to pro-
vide metaphysical insight to those who are of yet not sufficiently philosoph-
ically enlightened. This means that religions are useful only as a tool for
human development and should be thoroughly discarded when that goal is
reached.13
Schopenhauer’s ideal end-state of human progress with regard to religion
would probably be some sense of atheism. To call Schopenhauer univocally
an atheist is, however, somewhat nonchalant for a number of reasons. First,

atheism is often associated with the point of view that religion is a threat to
humanity’s development (and the truth in general) and can best be cleansed
as soon as possible. Against this form of atheism, Schopenhauer is adamant
about proposing a number of important boons associated with religion (for
a certain time), such as succor to the masses. A more important second rea-
son why Schopenhauer’s philosophy is at least not militantly atheistic is that
he never really argues in favor of atheism. This inclined Nietzsche to opine
that atheism was a reflex to Schopenhauer, rather than an argument: “The
ungodliness of existence counted for him as something given, palpable, indis-
putable”.14 Schopenhauer’s philosophy is, then, atheistic in a sense similar
to Nietzsche, since both are content with providing a genealogy of religion,
pointing out the dangers of religion and proposing to use, some form of,
religion instrumentally. There are very few explicit arguments throughout
Schopenhauer’s oeuvre where he would argue against the existence of God.
Schopenhauer may have felt either that this job was already conclusively
settled by Kant or that the question merited no specific attention. The lit-
erature is split on this issue. Douglas Berger points out that “Schopenhauer
gives no more justification for his rejection of theism than brief reference
to the Kantian antinomy on the proofs for God’s existence”.15 This would
render Schopenhauer’s arguments for atheism more implicit than explicit
(the in itself as will could not possibly include an all-powerful, omniscient
and all-good divinity). David Berman, however, poses an interesting ques-
tion about this assumption: “Where does Schopenhauer deny the existence
of God, or call himself an atheist, or explicitly argue against the existence
of God—in the way that Baron d’Holbach, or Schopenhauer’s near contem-
porary Shelly, did?”16 In Berman’s view, the Anglophile Schopenhauer was
more in the spirit of David Hume than Denis Diderot: he prefers to snidely
leave theism at one side rather than phrase specific arguments against it (cf.
PP2 343–382).
While this appears true for his published oeuvre, Schopenhauer had a
habit of becoming very combative on the subject of religion and atheism in
his correspondence. Consider, for instance, the remarks he makes in a letter
to Julius Frauenstädt. Here, he emphasizes that one ought to seek truth in
immanence, not transcendence; he gets very annoyed at those who read him
as suggesting a sense of (Christian) transcendence. After that, he excitedly
exclaims: “And, lastly, have a happy trip to Cloud-Cuckoo-Land! Give mine
and Kant’s regards to the old Jew: he knows us” (B 280). With regard to
his published works, what is likely more to the point is, as Christopher
Ryan points out, that the absence of specific arguments against theism (or in
favor of atheism) has to do with Schopenhauer’s general dislike of the term
‘atheism’.17 One already grants too much to theism merely by using this
term, namely that atheism is necessarily the denial of theism. For instance,
Schopenhauer notes that “the word ‘atheism’ contains a surreptitious pre-
supposition insofar as it presumes that theism is self-evident. Instead one
should say: ‘non-Judaism’, and instead of ‘atheist’, ‘non-Jew’. This would

be an honest way of speaking” (UWS 129). Later on, he clarifies this as
follows: “Proof is incumbent upon the person who makes a claim, whereas
the so-called atheism possesses the right of first occupancy and first has to
be driven from the field by theism. I venture here the remark that human
beings come into the world uncircumcised and consequently not as Jews”
(PP1 122).
A third problem with calling Schopenhauer an atheist is that he is not, like
Nietzsche and Derrida, the kind of atheist that hopes to abandon all theo-
logical frameworks. For instance, Gerard Mannion suggests that Schopen-
hauer’s overall system could benefit greatly from “an acknowledgment of
God or ultimate reality lurking somewhere behind Schopenhauer’s thing in
itself”.18 While Mannion does not suggest that Schopenhauer was a furtive
theologian, he does opine that Schopenhauer’s metaphysical system mimics
Christianity to such an extent that it would almost be natural to have some
inspiration of metaphysics. This was the approach taken also by the highly
influential theologian and Indologist, Paul Deussen. Deussen, a close friend
of Nietzsche’s and founder of the Schopenhauer-Gesellschaft, read Schopen-
hauer as the philosopher par excellence who deciphered the hidden philo-
sophical message behind the Christian Bible. As is well known, Nietzsche
agreed with Deussen in the end, but did not intend this as a compliment to
Schopenhauer. To Nietzsche, Schopenhauer’s philosophy is the expression,
like Christianity, of the ascetic ideal that deprives humankind of its vitalistic
energies.
Finally, the term atheism suggests that Schopenhauer’s problem with
religion mainly has to do with ‘theism’. For instance, Christopher Janaway
argues that everything Schopenhauer finds objectionable in religion, namely
‘optimism’, has to do with theism.19 Theism is, however, not obviously the
problem, and Schopenhauer explicitly claims that the general distinction
between different religions has nothing to do with “whether they are mono-
theistic, polytheistic, pantheistic, or atheistic” (WWV2 187). In the next sec-
tion, I will pinpoint what criteria are of importance to Schopenhauer when
calling a religion pessimistic or optimistic.
What underlies Schopenhauer’s several objections to religion is that he
finds some form of theoretical optimism to be present in many different
religions. Optimism is the frame of mind that believes that human beings
can reach some state of perfection through their natural powers; moreover,
optimism supposes that reality is a properly structured, self-sustaining
whole that does not oppose or thwart human fulfillment. What would make
Schopenhauer a pessimist is that he rejects both former views. As such, any
religion that gives cause to the illusions that life is a harmonious whole
or that natural life is quite worthwhile or that human agency by itself is
sufficient for a ‘highest good’ is objectionable because it lacks the kernel of
truth that Schopenhauer found in Brahmanism, Buddhism and ‘authentic’
Christianity. In the end, it is not the religion per se—with its dogmas and
rites, preaching and sacraments, priests and honest followers, in a word, its
historical garments—that potentially redeems, but the truth to which it is
attuned and to which it gives expression.
In conclusion, religion becomes highly similar to ‘art’ in Schopenhauer’s
philosophy, namely an ‘inspired’ creation that bestows upon those who lack
such inspiration a glimpse at the true essence of things. This is the boon of
religion, but there are always dangers lurking as well. In PP2, Schopenhauer
uses a the following metaphor to describe his twofold view of religion, there
calling it the two faces of religion: “Let’s recognize instead that religion,
like Janus—or better, like the Brahman god of death Yama—has two faces
and also, just like him, one very friendly and one very grim” (PP2 382).
The friendly face of religion provides the masses incapable of sober phil-
osophical insight with a means to nevertheless attain a form of the denial
of the will, the redemption from life. The not-so-friendly face of religion
refers to religions taking their clothing literally and rebuking philosophy for
being opposed to their so-called revealed truth. What is interesting is that,
with regard to this core purpose of religion, Kant and Schopenhauer do
not decisively disagree.20 For Kant, authentic religions have as core purpose
the cultivation of the human agent’s interest in morality and to provide the
‘clothing’ for the ‘naked’ ideas of reason to augment the appeal of morality.
For Schopenhauer, authentic religions have as core purpose the commu-
nication of the ‘naked’ truth in allegorical ‘clothing’ in order for human
agents to obtain the proper knowledge that will deliver them from the natu-
ral affirmation of life. Religion is, for both Schopenhauer and Kant, mainly
oriented at assisting moral agency—such agency does not ‘logically’ require
religion, but is ‘existentially’ greatly facilitated by it. Obviously, the differ-
ence between Kant and Schopenhauer can more properly be found in their
respective formulations of morality than in the structural framework of how
religion supports moral agency.
Section 5: What Religion Is a Good Religion?

Since religion has a proper purpose to fulfill, some religions might accom-
plish this purpose more expeditiously than others. Schopenhauer distin-
guishes between different religions on the basis of whether they have truth as
their inspiration, i.e., pessimistic religions, and those that do not have truth
as their inspiration, i.e., optimistic religions (WWV2 187–188). Kant almost
univocally depreciated most religions other than a certain interpretation of
Christianity, specifically a properly circumspect interpretation of Lutheran,
Halle Pietism. Kant strongly believed that Christianity was most apt to
serve as a moral religion that cultivated interest in moral agency. He writes
about Christianity and the Bible as follows: this is the “most adequate means
[das beste vorhandene] of public instruction available for establishing and
maintaining indefinitely a state religion [einer wahrhaftig seelenbessernden
Landesreligion] that is truly conducive to the soul’s improvement” (SF 9).
With regard to the great variety of Eastern religions, to the extent that Kant
was aware of these, he did not see much promise. Schopenhauer rather dif-
ferently appreciates the diverse field of world-religions and interestingly usu-
ally appreciates ‘older’ religions over ‘younger’ ones:
In early ages upon the present surface of the earth, things were different,
and those who were considerably closer than we are to the origination
of the human race and to the original source of organic nature also pos-
sessed, partly, greater energy in their powers of intuitive cognizance and
partly a more accurate attunement of mind, by which they were capable
of a purer, immediate apprehension of the essence of nature.
(WWV2 178)
Schopenhauer does not share the view of many of his contemporaries that
history was an inevitable process of sustained progress: “There is no greater
error than to believe that the last word spoken is always more correct,
that everything written later is an improvement of what was written earlier
and that every change represents progress” (PP2 535). This applies equally
to religions. In Schopenhauer’s view, Buddhism (WWV2 186), Brahman-
ism (WWV2 178, 691), and ‘authentic Christianity’ (WWV2 505) are in
a descending order pessimistic religions; Judaism (WWV2 184, 188, 739),
Pelagianism (WWV2 184), Paganism (WWV2 188) and Islam (WWV2
177–178) are in an ascending order optimistic religions. Schopenhauer
is particularly snide towards Islam and the Quran when he suggests that
“we find in this book the sorriest and most pitiful form of theism [. . .] I
have been unable to discover a single valuable thought in it” (WWV2 178).
Schopenhauer’s elevation of Buddhism over Brahmanism (which he cites
numerous times) is somewhat awkward, as he does not really provide a
reason for it: “If I wished to take the results of my philosophy as the mea-
sure of truth, I would have to grant Buddhism priority over the others”
(WWV2 186). David Cartwright helpfully points out that Schopenhauer’s
preference of Buddhism over Hinduism likely stems from Buddhism’s rejec-
tion of Vedantic metaphysics and the rejection of a creator God (I add other
reasons below).21
Schopenhauer’s valuation of different religions depends on “the greater or
lesser truth content that it carries under the veil of allegory, and then on the
greater or lesser distinctness with which that content is visible through the
veil” (WWV2 186). Accordingly, religion is to portray philosophical truth
through allegory and those religions who “oppose the progress of humanity
in cognizance of the truth [. . .] must be considerately pushed to one side”
(WWV2 185). Schopenhauer felt that exposure to the truth should come
in a form palpable to its audience or, in his words, “the needs of the people
must be met according to the measure of their power of comprehension
[Fassungskraft]” (PP2 343). When the teachers of the people, however, stray
from their purpose, they will face Schopenhauer’s wrath:
It is time to send missions of reason, enlightenment, and anti-clericalism

to England, with von Bohlen’s and Strauss’ Bible criticism in one hand
and the Critique of Pure Reason in the other, in order to put a stop to
the activities of these self-styled ‘reverend’ clerics, the most arrogant and
impudent in the world, and put an end to the scandal.
(PP1 286–287)
A lot of religions have allegorically given expression to vital aspects of

Schopenhauer’s philosophy, such as the saintly state of asceticism (WWV1
453), the Christian notion of grace as rebirth in freedom (WWV1 478),
the bondage of the will (WWV1 480–481) and existence as a punishment
(WWV1 479). Obviously, Schopenhauer tends to pick and choose the doc-
trines that serve his purpose and brushes aside in his view mistaken interpre-
tations of these teachings (cf. WWV1 480).
What exactly makes a religion pessimistic depends on five criteria.22 The
first two of these are absolutely necessary for a religion to deserve the mark
‘pessimistic’ (qualitative); the final three have to be somehow present in a
religion, but the extent to which they occur can differ (quantitative). Accord-
ingly, a religion can be ‘more pessimistic’ than others if it meets the final
three criteria to a higher degree, while Schopenhauer does leave room for
the possibility of a religion not being at all pessimistic, namely if it lacks
either of the two first criteria. The first criterion is that the religion ought
to regard existence as punishment. Schopenhauer believes that Christianity
(original sin) and Brahmanism/Buddhism (samsara) conceive of existence
as a punishment for respectively a moral and an intellectual deficiency. The
second criterion is that the religion ought to postulate that (human) nature
lacks redemptive qualities. In Buddhism/Brahmanism, this takes shape as
rejecting the attachment to worldly things (samsara) as a means towards
salvation; in Protestant Christianity, this is postulated as the creed that sal-
vation comes through faith rather than works. Schopenhauer scorns Cathol-
icism in this respect as “a shamefully abused [Christianity]” (WWV2 717)
because it assigns soteriological potential to good works. The third criterion
states that a pessimistic religion must advocate a morality of compassion
that leads towards a higher ethics of asceticism. He finds such asceticism to
be at work in especially Buddhism, where a lifestyle of compassion leads one
to self-renunciation. Here, Schopenhauer scorns contemporary Protestant-
ism as a “degenerated Christianity” (WWV2 717) because it either does not
preach compassion or opposes the ideal of asceticism. The fourth criterion
states that a pessimistic religion surrounds its doctrines with an aura of mys-
tique, rather than rendering its doctrines rationally intelligible (rationalism)
or literally true (textual literalism). Schopenhauer is then not mild when he
attacks the philosophers of religion of his age as either supernaturalists or
rationalists (WWV2 184). The final criterion states that a pessimistic reli-
gion will present its stories and rites as allegories for a higher truth without,
obviously, openly admitting to the allegorical nature of its message. Bud-
dhism begets Schopenhauer’s highest appreciation here since its stories are
less in danger of being rendered literally true.
In conclusion, Schopenhauer holds that religions allegorically clothe phil-
osophical truth in such a way that the masses can stomach it. Some religions
are led by illusion (optimistic) and suggest some form of ‘happy ending’
(Paradise) or ‘innate goodness to being’ (Paganism, Pelagianism). Other reli-
gions have had a profound insight into reality and posit the ultimate worth-
lessness of existence and offer, in their own way, certain means to escape the
meaninglessness of reality (e.g., asceticism). Religion can lead to salvation by
giving human beings the necessary tools to embrace the meaninglessness of
being—not by giving being ‘meaning’, but by accepting the meaninglessness
of being. Nevertheless, religion is an ersatz solution to a problem that is best
handled philosophically. Religion provides the truth in a manner accessible
to the masses, while philosophy is a more lucid and consistent expression of
this truth. Religion can, however, be dangerous and should know its proper
place. Before turning towards the philosophical solution to this problem, a
different solution remains to be examined, namely art.
Notes
1. Whether or not these objections actually hold remains a disputed issue. For my
assessment of some of these: Dennis Vanden Auweele, ‘For the Love of God:
Kant on Grace’. In: International Philosophical Quarterly 54 (2014) 175–190;
Dennis Vanden Auweele, ‘Kant on Religious Moral Education’. In: Kantian
Review 20 (2015), 373–394.
2. For a discussion of the theological reception of Kant, Hegel and Schelling:
Johannes Zachhuber, Theology as Science in Nineteenth-Century Germany:
From F. C. Baur to Ernst Troeltsch (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013).
3. In recent years, there has been an impressive number of commentaries on
Kant’s Religionsschrift. To name a few: Stephen Palmquist, A Comprehensive
Commentary on Kant’s Religion within the Bounds of Bare Reason (Oxford:
Wiley-Blackwell, 2015); Lawrence Pasternack, Kant’s Religion within the
Boundaries of Mere Reason: An Interpretation and Defense (London: Routledge,
2013); James DiCenso, Kant’s Religion within the Boundaries of Mere Reason:
A Commentary (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012); Kant’s Religion
within the Boundaries of Mere Reason: A Critical Guide. Edited by Gordon
Michalson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016).
4. Matthias Kossler, Empirische Ethik und christliche Moral. Zur Differenz
einer areligiösen und einer religiösen Grundlegung der Ethik am Beispiel der
Gegenüberstellung Schopenhauers mit Augustinus, der Scholastik und Luther
(Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, 1999).
Publishing, 2010), pp. 75–83.
6. Gerard Mannion, Schopenhauer, Religion and Morality. The Humble Path to
Ethics (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003), pp. 135–188.
7. For an extended dialogue between Schelling and Schopenhauer on religion:
Dennis Vanden Auweele, ‘Schopenhauer and the later Schelling in Dialogue on
Mythology and Religion’. In: The Journal of Religion (forthcoming).
8. Schopenhauer’s line likely stems from a verse of Schiller’s Resignation (1786):
“Wer dieser Blumen eine brach, begehre / Die andre Schwester nicht. / Genieße,
wer nicht glauben kann. Die Lehre / Ist ewig, wie die Welt. Wer glauben kann,
entbehre! / Die Weltgeschichte ist das Weltgericht” (Friedrich von Schiller,
Schillers Werke: Nationalsausgabe Zweiter Band: Teil 1 (Weimar: Hermann
Böhlaus Nachfolger, 1983), p. 403).
9. For further discussion: Vanden Auweele, 2014 and 2015.
10. Jörg Salaquarda, ‘Schopenhauer und die Religion’. In: Die Deutung der Welt.
Edited by Konstantin Broese, Matthias Kossler and Barbara Salaquarda
(Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, 2007), p. 83.
11. Rüdiger Safranski, Schopenhauer and the Wild Years of Philosophy. Translated
by Ewald Osers (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1990), p. 200.
12. David Cartwright, Schopenhauer. A Biography (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2010), p. 379.
13. The argument could even be made that Schopenhauer recognizes progress as
not only a societal issue, but also an individual one. Individual human beings
progress from a childlike state in which they require religion towards an ado-
lescent state in which they pierce through these childhood superstitions, often
with the help of natural science. Finally, individuals might become enlightened
about the limitations of natural science and turn towards philosophy, which
would be the appropriate end of individual development. For an account of
this: Jonathan Head, ‘Schopenhauer on the Development of the Individual’. In:
Epoché 20 (2016) 427–446.
14. Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science. Edited by Bernard Williams (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2001), p. 219 [357].
15. Douglas Berger, ‘The Poorest Form of Theism: Schopenhauer, Islam and the
Perils of Comparative Hermeneutics’. In: Islam and Christian-Muslim Relations
15 (2004) 144.
16. David Berman, ‘Schopenhauer and Nietzsche: Honest Atheism, Dishonest
Pessimism’. In: Willing and Nothingness: Schopenhauer as Nietzsche’s Educator.
Edited by Christopher Janaway (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), p. 178.
18. Mannion, 2003, p. 248.
19. See: Christopher Janaway, ‘Schopenhauer’s Pessimism’. In: The Cambridge
Companion to Schopenhauer. Edited by Christopher Janaway (Cambridge:
20. Schopenhauer notes this himself: “We therefore see that, in what is of principal
concern, and for the great multitude of those of whom thinking cannot be asked,
religions are very good at occupying the place of any sort of metaphysics, the
need for which human beings feel they cannot renounce: in part, namely, in
practical matters, as a guiding star for their action, as a public standard of right
and virtue, as Kant superbly expresses it” (WWV2 184—my emphasis).
21. Cartwright, 2010, p. 272.
22. For a sustained argument of these five criteria: Dennis Vanden Auweele,
‘Schopenhauer on Religious Pessimism’. In: International Journal for Philosophy
of Religion 78 (2015) 53–71.
6 Schopenhauer’s Aesthetics
Artists were far more willing to acknowledge their patronage to Schopen-

hauer than philosophers (with the exception of Deussen, Nietzsche and
Wittgenstein). According to Alain Besançon, this can be explained not so
much by the specifics of Schopenhauer’s aesthetical theory, but by the fact
that in Schopenhauer’s philosophy
the artist is confirmed in his deepest ambitions (his spiritual election,

genius, clairvoyance, mediating role) and consoled for the social and
psychological miseries of his life. Let us add another trait: here is a
philosopher who, instead of laying claim to the superiority of dialectics
and reason, devalues them in favor of direct and immediate intuition,
that which the artist, who is the least adept at arguments and demon-
strations, experiences within himself.1
It is true that Schopenhauer devalues theoretical understanding and dialec-

tical reason by attributing surplus importance to immediate intuition. Nev-
ertheless, this should not obscure the more important point that ultimately
the central notion throughout Schopenhauer’s philosophy (ethics, aesthet-
ics and ascetics) is knowledge or cognition. The standard (post-)Romantic
reading of Schopenhauer’s aesthetical theory attributes to him the view that
art could be a more potent and informative way of knowing reality than
philosophy and positive science. More to the point really is the idea that art
provides a much-needed bit of knowledge that can engender a momentary
redemption from the onslaught of pain. Pain always presents itself under the
guise of individual needs, desires and boredom, and art is the momentary
freeing of the individual from individuality (the proverbial wheel of Ixion
stands still when Orpheus plays his lyre).
Section 1: Schopenhauer’s Immediate Aesthetic Legacy

At every turn in Schopenhauer’s philosophy, some form of knowing is essen-
tial. Different types of knowing are enlisted in a more comprehensive project
of which the high point is intuitive knowledge, not aesthetical knowledge.
This means that aesthetic experience provides a bit of knowledge to the
spectator—and is itself created by a genius with special access to knowledge—
that can have soteriological potential. This soteriological potential is, however,
far more expeditiously achieved by intuitive insight. This last point removes
Schopenhauer from his Romantic predecessors and contemporaries—even if
this eluded most of Schopenhauer’s immediate proponents.
In The Birth of Tragedy, Nietzsche develops a theory of the creative artis-
tic drive that is clearly inspired by Schopenhauer’s metaphysics and aes-
thetics. In this early work, Nietzsche believes that art arises because certain
creative impulses set out to affirm themselves through the human agent.
Later on, he would amend but also expand on this view by emphasizing
that any philosophical or religious system is ultimately an artistic creation
that prefers either structure and order (Apollonian) or chaos and tempo-
rality (Dionysian)—two drives that he believed to be in perfect balance (or,
better, in perfect agon) in Attic Tragedy. This most exalted piece of art gives
voice to the enduring contest between chaos and order, but most artistic
and ideological creations had a tendency to prefer the one over the other. In
other words, most ideological systems are an artistic creation that can either
attune to the inherent chaos of reality or flee that very chaos for so-called
eternal, universal values. Philosophy and religion have been more prone to
the latter, while art has been more true to the former.2
One of Nietzsche’s central examples when it comes to art is music, and
particularly the music of Richard Wagner. Since Schopenhauer similarly ele-
vates music over other types of art, Nietzsche asserts from this that, for
Schopenhauer, “music represents the metaphysical in relation to all that is
physical in the world, the thing-in-itself in relation to all appearances”.3 The
very nature of music makes it more apt to represent the in itself of reality,
since other potential means (science, philosophy) are typically guided by
inappropriate tools: “Great natures with a bent for general problems have
applied the tools of science itself, with incredible deliberation, to prove that
all understanding, by its very nature, is limited and conditional, thereby
rejecting decisively the claim of science to universal validity and universal
goals”.4 To revitalize the barren German culture, Nietzsche prophesized that
the “impending rebirth of Hellenic Antiquity” would amount to a “renewal
and purification of the German spirit through the fire-magic of music”.5
What can be deduced from this is that Nietzsche in The Birth of Tragedy
reads Schopenhauer’s aesthetics as a Romantic opposition to the claims of
positive science and sees Schopenhauer celebrating the potential of art to
be a more potent expression of the in itself of reality. In his later reflec-
tions on The Birth of Tragedy, Nietzsche felt somewhat embarrassed about
the Romantic undertone of this work, which can be attributed to his being
under the spell of Wagner. What is more important for the current inves-
tigation is that Schopenhauer’s metaphysics and aesthetics are not to be
aligned univocally with Romanticism. According to Schopenhauer, the high-
est goal of humanity is ultimately to acquire a sense of immediate, abstract,
Schopenhauer’s Aesthetics 177
non-representational and intuitive knowledge that would deliver one from
suffering by nullifying the will. Art certainly has a role to play in this, but
it remains dialectically lower than philosophy in offering a solution to the
horror of existing as a willing thing.
Schopenhauer admired artists who created sublime pieces of arts because
they were a vessel for the will channeling itself; they themselves, however,
were not saintly philosophers who had completely (intuitively and existen-
tially) come to embrace the nothingness of being. Art, then, is not unlike
religion, inferior to philosophy because its soteriological potential remains

dependent on a fleeting and to an extent still veiled experience of the true
essence of the world: aesthetical experience only momentarily releases us
from bondage to the will. Schopenhauer shares with his Romantic contem-
poraries the elevation of intuitive, immediate insight (such as in art and
religion) over abstract, discursive representational logic (see, for instance,
Schelling’s philosophy of art and philosophy of revelation). But his ‘highest
solution’ takes recourse in profound philosophical knowledge, not the lived
experience of aesthetics. Accordingly, one once again detects a peculiar sym-
metry between Schopenhauer and his arch-nemesis, Hegel. Both held that
philosophy supersedes art and religion because it more comprehensively,
clearly and directly captures reality, something art and religion are able to
do only symbolically.
It might appear odd that I do not extensively discuss Schopenhauer’s most
obvious source of inspiration for his aesthetical theory, namely Kant’s Third
Critique. Numerous elements of Schopenhauer’s aesthetics derive from
Kant, but Schopenhauer at the same time dramatically departs from Kant’s
aesthetics overly based upon judgment and morality. Schopenhauer instead
perceives there to be an existential and metaphysical purpose in art that is
based upon immediate perception, not judgment. The reason I do not discuss
Schopenhauer’s relationship to Kant’s aesthetics is that it has already been
done extensively.6
Section 2: The Relationship of Art and Philosophy

There is definitely something of a symbiotic relationship of art to philoso-
phy in Schopenhauer’s philosophy. In a symbiotic relationship, two objects
jointly interact with another to the benefit/loss of one or both. In a mutualist
symbiotic relationship, both objects benefit; in a commensalist symbiotic
relationship, one benefits and the other is unaffected; in a parasitic symbiotic
relationship, one benefits and the other is harmed. Interestingly, more than
one of these forms can apply to Schopenhauer’s reading of art. Art and phi-
losophy can be to each other’s benefit if both keep to their respective domain:
philosophy using abstract argumentation and art using artistic expression.
As such, artistic experience can prepare the philosophical state of mind by
subtly hinting that there is more to appearances. The danger is that, when
philosophy engages art merely abstractly or art aspires to be as philosophy
(as could be said of very abstract forms of art), this can lead to problems.
For instance, art might very well lose its appeal if it becomes overly abstract
and argumentative; and philosophy might lack systematicity, and ultimately
even abstract persuasiveness, if it becomes overly artful, which often means
overly poetical. To ascend fully to the realm of philosophical insight, all
artistic imagery, like poetry and picture, song and dance, is to be abandoned.
While Schopenhauer surely excels at philosophical writing, his own
writing is certainly not artful in the way of Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke
Zarathustra—not to mention the recurring interludes of poetry and poetic

imagery in Nietzsche’s other published works. Schopenhauer did not have
cause to turn this topic into a matter of controversy in his philosophy: in
his view, the philosophy of his days was overly systematic and not overly
poetic. Chances are, however, that Schopenhauer would not look kindly
upon Nietzsche’s merging of artistic language with philosophy. Think, for
instance, of Goethe’s essay on colors that Schopenhauer felt needed a more
systematic representation (cf. chapter one). In his Parerga and Paralipom-
ena, Schopenhauer discusses poets who, he believes, create lively images that
evoke sentiment. But poetry can also induce reflection by pointing towards
certain universal characteristics of certain objects. Poetry can be a prepa-
ration for philosophy, but it is not philosophy proper since it stops short
at discussing particular objects, not their universal essence: “The poet is
to be compared to one who brings flowers, the philosopher to one who
brings their quintessence” (PP2 5). But because poets can utilize objects that
are easily recognizable and relatable, they are often far more effective at
securing an audience. Therefore, Schopenhauer laments that it is “infinitely
harder to achieve legitimacy as a philosopher than as a poet” (PP2 6).
Schopenhauer thus seems to suggest that poets are less accomplished (but
more renowned) than philosophers. This argument is somewhat problem-
atic, since the poet must necessarily have, much like the philosopher, intui-
tive insight into the in itself of reality (or at least the Platonic ideas) in order
to represent that insight in colorful imagery. The philosopher has similar
insight but lacks the capacity to represent this insight in a manner more
appealing to a general audience. This implies that the poet could be taken,
pace Schopenhauer, as superior to the philosopher. Schopenhauer might
counter that poets usually only have momentary inspiration of the Platonic
ideas, while the philosopher can amount to intuitive insight of the in itself.
Ultimately, Schopenhauer’s final judgment on poets is highly favorable: “The
poet takes from the endless tumult of human life, speeding by everywhere in
incessant motion, one single scene, indeed, often only a mood and sensation,
in order to demonstrate through it what are the life and essence of human
beings” (PP2 448).
The similarities with Schopenhauer’s assessment of religion are striking:
religion and art can be to the benefit of philosophy, but can also impede each
other’s projects. What seems to be an exception to this rule is Schopenhau-
er’s discussion of tragedy. Attic tragedies were written and performed only
for a very short period (6th–5th centuries B.C.). The tragic epos persisted as
a literary genre in terms of stories that lacked a happy ending. Traditionally,
Aristotle and Plato had focused on the emotional effects of tragedy: for
Plato, this was the pleasing of the audience (Gorgias 502c); for Aristotle, this
was more complex, since tragedy evokes at the same time fear, sympathy,
perplexity and relief. Aristotle does remark that this last one is somewhat
artificial and does not belong to the essence of tragedy. Schopenhauer does
not mention Plato or Aristotle in his discussion of tragedy. The reason for
this might be that Schopenhauer believes that tragedy’s purpose is not to

evoke an emotional response, but to convey a philosophical message. As
such it seems that tragedy is uniquely allowed to be somewhat philosophical.
The philosophical message of tragedy is rather obvious, namely that
human existence is tragic: “Viewed overall and in a general manner, and
extracting only the most significant features, the life of every individual is
in fact always a tragedy” (WWV1 380). This means primarily that human
existence is fraught with suffering and disappointment, that it is too short to
be significant in the grand scheme of things, and that it will inevitably lead
to death. Whenever a tragedy is concluded by a happy note—Prometheus
is rescued from his torment by Hercules, Oedipus is invited up to Olympus
by the gods or Antigone is rescued from her imprisonment by her lover
Haemon—this always seems abrupt and inauthentic, a deus ex machina so
to speak. True tragedy ends tragically. Since the content of tragedy holds so
many similarities with the life of the individual, Schopenhauer names this
the highest form of poetry: “Tragedy [is] the pinnacle of literature, both
in the grandeur of its effect and the difficulty of achieving it” (WWV1 298).
The essence of tragedy is “the portrayal of a great misfortune” that can come
about by “extraordinary evil”, “blind fate” or “people’s positioning with
respect to each other” (WWV1 300).
The effect of tragedy is, then, that it engenders a specific insight, namely in
the futility of individual existence. As such, it can lead one to identify with
the protagonist of the tragedy and resign individual existence. Schopenhauer
writes: “So in tragedy we see that, after a long struggle and much suffering,
the noblest people eventually renounce forever the goals they had, up to that
point, pursued so intensely, as well as renouncing all the pleasures of life,
or even willingly and joyfully giving them up” (WWV1 299). This does not
seem to fit: when does Antigone regret her decision to bury her brother? Or,
when does Prometheus regret bringing fire to man? The tragic heroes might
well lament their fate, but they usually remain unwavering in their convic-
tions. Schopenhauer’s examples, then, do not refer to the Ancient Greeks,
but to more modern tragedies: Hamlet (Shakespeare), Faust (Goethe) or The
Constant Prince (Caldéron).
Tragedy expresses a pivotal philosophical insight through certain narrative
elements. The message of tragedy is very obvious, and Schopenhauer takes this
message at face value. While this cannot be developed here, Nietzsche’s assess-
ment of tragedy likely outdoes Schopenhauer’s overly one-sided approach.
But tragedy signals at least that there can be some philosophy at work in
art—and even quite overtly so. This is an important difference between art
and religion: religion cannot be philosophical but must keep to its allegorical
nature. While Schopenhauer provides little insight into how religions come
to be (are they manmade?), he does discuss the genesis of art in great detail.
Before we can turn to the soteriological purpose of art, we must first discuss
the genius artist.
Section 3: The Artistic Genius

Schopenhauer had nothing but the highest respect for artists and univocally
called the greatest among them geniuses. This probably has to do with
Schopenhauer’s insistence that knowledge and truth are paramount to any
true lifestyle and that the genius has, first and foremost, a surplus of insight
through a heightened sensitivity. Schopenhauer does not tire from enumer-
ating, however, the ways in which the genius is odd. Typical quaint charac-
teristics of the genius are that they are “lively to the point of distraction”
with a “restless zeal” (WWV1 219) and “uncommonly strong imagination”
(WWV1 220); “For the ordinary person, the cognitive faculty is a lantern
that lights the way, while for the genius it is the sun that reveals the world”
(WWV1 221). Such excess of insight and imagination makes the genius
principally unapt to converse and deal with ‘lesser mortals’—like the giant
wings of the albatross in Baudelaire’s Fleurs du mal that prevent him from
walking:
La Poète est semblable au prince des nuées

Qui hante la tempête et se rit de l’archer;
Exilé sur le sol au milieu des huées,
Ses ailes de géant l’empêchent de marcher.7
The same Baudelaire (albeit admittedly uninfluenced by Schopenhauer)

expressed Schopenhauer’s view of the pathos of the artist so astutely in his
poem Le Confiteor de l’Artiste that it merits extended quoting:
Que les fins de journées d’automne sont pénétrantes! Ah! pénétrantes

jusqu’à la douleur! car il est de certaines sensations délicieuses dont le
vague n’exclut pas l’intensité; et il n’est pas de pointe plus acérée que
celle de l’Infini.
Grand délice que celui de noyer son regard dans l’immensité du ciel et
de la mer! Solitude, silence, incomparable chasteté de l’azur! une petite
voile frissonnante à l’horizon, et qui par sa petitesse et son isolement
imite mon irrémédiable existence, mélodie monotone de la houle, toutes
ces choses pensent par moi, ou je pense par elles (car dans la grandeur de
la rêverie, le moi se perd vite!); elles pensent, dis-je, mais musicalement
et pittoresquement, sans arguties, sans syllogismes, sans déductions.
Toutefois, ces pensées, qu’elles sortent de moi ou s’élancent des cho-
ses, deviennent bientôt trop intenses. L’énergie dans la volupté crée un
malaise et une souffrance positive. Mes nerfs trop tendus ne donnent
plus que des vibrations criardes et douloureuses.
Et maintenant la profondeur du ciel me consterne; sa limpidité m’exas-
père. L’insensibilité de la mer, l’immuabilité du spectacle me révoltent. . .
Ah! faut-il éternellement souffrir, ou fuir éternellement le beau? Nature,
enchanteresse sans pitié, rivale toujours victorieuse, laisse-moi! Cesse de
tenter mes désirs et mon orgueil! L’étude du beau est un duel où l’artiste
crie de frayeur avant d’être vaincu.8
‘Nothing cuts as deep into the soul as the infinite’ (il n’est pas de pointe plus
acérée que celle de l’Infini). The genius’s gaze pierces through the various
layers of finite things in order to be pierced himself and overtaken by the
infinite, which wrests its way into the artist’s soul. Accordingly, the infinite is
acknowledged to be at work in singular finitude and overtakes the inspired
artists who is ‘being thought’ (toutes ces choses pensent par moi) while
‘thinking himself’ (je pense par elles). The genius does not live an agreeable
life and does not aspire to pleasure in his moment of inspiration, but relin-
quishes the individuality others work so hard to preserve (dans la grandeur
de la rêverie, le moi se perd vite!). Moreover, in the pursuit of beauty, the
artist is in pain and agony (l’énergie dans la volupté crée un malaise et une
souffrance positive), yet he willfully accepts this suffering in the pursuit of
beauty (l’artiste crie de frayeur avant d’être vaincu).
Despite Schopenhauer’s celebration of genius, this very notion appears
highly paradoxical within his comprehensive philosophy—for some, even
inconsistent.9 On the one hand, Schopenhauer subscribes to there being
strong qualitative differences between a normal person and a genius artist
as a consequence of the fact that a ‘radical change’ in the natural mode
of perception is required to perceive the Platonic Ideas (WWV1 217–218).
Schopenhauer always defines genius in strong contrast with the commoner,
the hallmark feature of the genius being “the capacity to maintain oneself
in a purely intuitive state” (WWV1 218). This capacity belongs to only a
select few and is neither appropriate nor attainable for the masses (WWV1
221). On the other hand, Schopenhauer explicitly states that the capacity
to be a ‘pure subject of cognition’ must “reside in all people to a different
and lesser degree” (WWV1 229). If not, the confrontation with beautiful
art or beauty in nature would, for some people, be a matter of indifference.
More broadly speaking, Schopenhauer emphasizes the naturalistic similar-
ities between all different beings. This makes the paradox clear: how can
it be that some beings have radically different capacities if all beings are at
bottom the expression of the same thing? The difference between commoner
and genius is wider than between a human being and an animal—or even
a rock or a plant. The commoners (as well as plants, animals, and rocks)
are immersed in the will to life, and all of their agency can be thoroughly
accounted for by reference to their attempts to sustain their individual exis-
tence and procreate (besides the rock, obviously). The genius does something
that cannot be accounted for by reference to the will to life. In a word, this
paradox is the conflict between an elitist understanding of aesthetical cre-
ation (Book III of WWV1) and a naturalistic understanding of human nature
(Book II of WWV1). How can the genius artist have abilities that are far
beyond common humanity if Schopenhauer’s naturalism dictates that there
are no strong, qualitative differences between individual expressions of will?
While this naturalism has been expounded at length above (chapter three),
the peculiar nature of the artist has been mostly left unexplored.
Schopenhauer readily admits that the genius is exceptional: the genius is
“rare beyond all ordinary measure” and “the greatest exception in nature”
(WWV1 225); the genius has an “abnormal preponderance of cerebral life”
(WN 52); the genius makes an “abnormal use of the intellect” (PP2 75); the
genius is a “monstrosity by excess” (PP2 616; cf. WWV2 429). Schopenhauer
obviously did not invent the notion of genius but picked up on this from his
contemporaries. Responding to the austerity of some of the Enlightenment’s
dealings with art, the Romantic movement developed a vibrant concept of
genius that emphasized the excessive nature of the genius’s perception and
cognition. Early treatment of the subject came mainly from the British isle,
scholarship to which the Anglophile Schopenhauer was more than likely
familiar. Alexander Gerard in his ‘An Essay on Genius’ (1774) and William
Duff in his ‘Essay on Original Genius’ (1767) both emphasize the reach of
creative imagination in the genius.10 Gerard and Duff were actually among
the first to drive a wedge between the artistic genius and the man of philo-
sophical and scientific erudition.11 Even though both are characterized by a
surplus of creative imagination, science requires more ‘regularity’ and genius
more ‘creativity’.
Gerard and Duff exerted some influence on Kant’s aesthetical theory and
concept of genius,12 which on its turn might have influenced Schopenhauer.
In the Critique of the Power of Judgment, Kant calls genius the ability to
give rules to art; in other words, proper art is bound by certain rules that
uniquely belong to the genius. Aesthetical experience is an experience of uni-
versal disinterested approval because the experience resonates with a certain
internal configuration. Nature expresses these principles through the genius
who then, during a bout of inspiration, creates art. The central of these abil-
ities is what Kant calls Geist, i.e., the ability to represent an aesthetical idea.
The genius is able to do so because he is original and his work can serve as
an example for others to copy. Accordingly, Kant sternly objects to perceiv-
ing art as mere ‘mimesis’ or ‘copying’, since the artist ought to be original.13
Schopenhauer’s concept of genius is a more moderate synthesis of the cre-
ative originality of genius and the inspired copying of certain trans-experiential
ideas. In general, geniuses are able to have original insights into reality and
have the means to communicate these insights in a form palpable to the
masses. Schopenhauer came late to the Romantic movement and finds himself
wedged between the Romantic celebration of art as a more potent tool to
communicate insight into the inner workings of reality and the Existential-
ist lamentation of the late 19th century that existence is basically pointless.
Schopenhauer’s concept of genius and his aesthetical theory already in many
ways depart from Romanticism in anticipation of Existentialism. Accord-
ingly, he proved remarkably easy to absorb for many post-Romantic artists
such as Richard Wagner, Lev Tolstoy, Marcel Proust, Anatole Gide, Thomas
Hardy, James Joyce, Edvard Munch and Gustav Klimt.
The activity of the genius is abnormal, even unnatural, because rather than
perceiving and appreciating an object in relationship to the self (in Kantian
terms, ‘interested’), the genius perceives the in itself of the object. In other
words, the genius has the ability to be a self-less perceiver, much like the
compassionate agent can relate to another agent without the buffer of ego-
ism. Accordingly, the genius is able to appreciate the in itself of reality rather
than seeing reality mirror his or her own needs and desires. Schopenhauer
calls this the ability to perceive objects “independently from the principle
of sufficient reason” (WWV1 218); the genius looks at “particular things
and recognizes the Idea, as if [s/he] understands nature’s half-spoken words,
and then clearly enunciates what nature only stutters” (WWV1 262); while
“scholars are those who have read in books”, the genius “[reads] directly in
the book of the world” (PP2 522); they “apprehend the world purely objec-
tively when [they] no longer know that [they] belong to it” (WWV2 418).
After having such a pure insight into reality, the genius is able to recreate
what he has seen in a piece of art so as to mimic the in itself of reality.
In order to do so, the genius is in need of three capacities that set him
or her apart from the bulk of humanity, namely pure intuition, creative
imagination and excess perseverance. First, pure intuition is the capacity to
apprehend the world ‘purely’, i.e., to “stop considering the Where, When,
Why and Wherefore of things but simply and exclusively consider the What”
(WWV1 210). Pure intuition is, then, the capacity to perceive things inde-
pendently from the principle of sufficient reason, or, to perceive things in
their universal and not relational nature. Second, creative imagination is
the ability to abstract the non-essential from external objects so as to retain
only its essence (namely, the Platonic Idea). Imagination, then, becomes for
the genius the capacity to “complete, arrange, fill in, retain, and replicate
the significant images of life, ever according to what is required for the pur-
poses of a profoundly penetrating cognizance and the significant work by
which it is to be communicated” (WWV2 431). In other words, imagination
allows the genius to relate to someone who lacks such creative imagination
as “free-moving and winged animals [relate] to the mussel stuck to its rock”
(WWV2 432). Lastly, perseverance is
the capacity to maintain oneself in a purely intuitive state [. . .] and this
not momentarily, but for as long and with as much clarity of mind as is
necessary to repeat what has been grasped in the form of well-considered
art and ‘what floats in wavering appearance to fasten down in enduring
thoughts.
(WWV1 219)
The genius is only able to create the piece of art in as long as the pure state is
maintained and whenever this ends, the inspiration passes. While obviously
all human beings have the endurance to maintain a pure state in the face of
a piece of art, the genius “has the advantage of being capable of sustaining
this mode of cognition much longer and to a much higher degree” (WWV1
229). Accordingly, Schopenhauer succinctly summarizes the three distinctive
features of the genius as the “consummation and energy of perceptual cog-
nizance” (WWV2 428).
By having these unique abilities, the genius appears to be radically distinct
from the bulk of humanity, since the genius’s nature houses a denial of the
will to life. To put things more succinctly, the capacities of the genius appear
out of place in Schopenhauer’s naturalistic universe. The solution to this par-
adox can be found in a somewhat careless use of terminology of Schopen-
hauer. Namely, by rhetorically and at times even hyperbolically emphasizing
the remarkable character traits of the genius, Schopenhauer obscures the
fact that, for him, genius is really only a more potent expression of capaci-
ties germane to humanity as a whole. In On Will in Nature, Schopenhauer
increasingly uses anatomy and biology to explain the differences between
different individuals, most notably between commoner and genius: “Sen-
sibility, objectified in the nerves, is the principal characteristic of humans
and is actually that which is human in humans [. . .] if it is excessively pre-
dominant, it yields genius. Therefore the human being of genius is human
to a higher degree” (WN 31–32). Similarly, in Parerga and Paralipomena, he
writes that “genius is conditioned by an excess of nervous force and hence
of sensibility” (PP1 326). Both paragraphs here suggest that the difference
between the genius and the commoner is established by means of biological
differences, namely additional nervous force. At one point, Schopenhauer
even directly notes that
the difference between the genius and normal minds is of course only
quantitative, insofar as it is a difference of degree; nevertheless, one is
tempted to regard is as qualitative when one considers how ordinary
minds, despite their individual diversity, still have a certain common
direction in their thinking.
(PP2 80)
Since ordinary minds are will-driven, their behavior does not substantially
differ, while the intellect-driven genius appears to behave radically differ-
ently. While Schopenhauer does not claim that the affirmation of the will
to life embryonically houses the denial of the will to life (or does he? See
chapter seven), he only suggests that certain abilities that arise from the will
to life (abstract thought, creativity, etc.) can develop to such a degree that
they uproot their original purpose. When this happens, the genius uses these
abilities for a counter-natural purpose, namely the denial of the will to life.
Section 4: The Relief of Art

Very generally, Schopenhauer’s philosophy describes certain practices, philo-
sophical systems and states of affair by discerning their enabling conditions
and evaluating whether they are based upon insight or falsehood. Much like
anything else, then, art can be based, according to Schopenhauer, upon truth
(but also on falsehood) by having as purpose the intention of acquainting
human beings with the ‘Platonic Ideas’, i.e., the “particular species, or the
original, unchanging forms and qualities of all natural bodies, inorganic no
less than organic, as well as the universal forces that manifest themselves
according to natural laws” (WWV1 199). This intimation with the Platonic
Ideas can exert an influence on the behavior of human beings in much the
same way that religious stories exert influence. The Idea, namely, acts as a
concept that did not emerge from the will to life and is able to counterforce
the affirmation of the will. It does this by releasing the individual from its
particular subjectivity into the pure objectivity of the Platonic Idea.
The Platonic Idea has been discussed in some detail above (chapter two).
What has to be borne in mind with respect to the redemptive potential of
these ideas is that they are not subject to the principle of sufficient reason
(even though there are a number of them) and, accordingly, “the Ideas also
lie entirely outside the cognitive sphere of the subject as such” (WWV1 200).
Since natural cognition is always mediated through the principle of suffi-
cient reason, the Ideas are not intelligible through the naturally given tools
of the human agents. In fact, the knowledge that good art provides radically
breaks with the normal mode of cognition:
If it is possible for us to raise ourselves from cognition of particular

things to cognition of the Ideas, this can only take place by means of
an alteration in the subject that corresponds to and is analogous with
that radical change in the whole nature of the object, and by virtue of
which the subject, in so far as it has cognition of an Idea, is no longer
an individual.
(WWV1 207)
What is meant by this is highly similar to how compassion and religion can
introduce a radical change in the human agent: the perception of a good piece
of art can briefly detach the subject from its subjective interests by immersing
it in the object. Schopenhauer describes this as that “subject and object can
no longer be distinguished within [aesthetical experience]” (WWV1 212).
Art is, then, a type of cognition that is uniquely occupied with the expres-
sion of non-subjective (specifically non-temporal) knowledge: “Art repeats
the eternal Ideas grasped through pure contemplation, it repeats what is
essential and enduring in all the appearances of the world” (WWV1 217).
By acquainting the perceiver with knowledge of the Platonic Ideas, good
art is capable of having soteriological potential by freeing the spectator from
the circuitry of suffering.14 Suffering is the natural and inescapable condition
of the human agent (chapter four) because no satisfaction of the will to life
can give stable or lasting solace from suffering. As Schopenhauer puts this
metaphorically, as long human beings remain the subject of willing, they are
“on the revolving wheel of Ixion, [keep] drawing water from the sieve of the
Danaids, [are] the eternally yearning Tantalus” (WWV1 231). This circuitry
can never be escaped, but it can momentarily be halted by the total immer-
sion in the object of aesthetical experience. In the piece of art, there is a bit
of knowledge that can lift human beings “out of the endless stream of will-
ing” (WWV1 231), which then frees them “from the terrible pressure of the
will, [and celebrate] the Sabbath of the penal servitude of willing, the wheel
of Ixion stands still” (WWV1 231). Since the subject loses all individuality
and becomes a ‘pure subject’ in aesthetical experience, there is no longer an
individual subject that can will things or even feel suffering: since there is no
more ‘I’, there is no more pain experienced by an ‘I’.
Schopenhauer’s use of the image of ‘the wheel of Ixion’ is especially illumi-
nating. The story of the Greek king Ixion goes that he was persecuted by his
fellow mortals for a number of crimes, but Zeus took pity upon Ixion and
invited him up to Olympus. Not long after, Ixion disgraced the generosity
of his host by romancing Zeus’s wife, Hera. As punishment, Zeus turned
Ixion immortal and referred him to Tartarus, where he would be eternally
tormented: he would be nailed to a burning and revolving solar wheel. When
in a different myth, Orpheus descends into Tartarus to free Eurydice, he
plays his lyre to get past the guardian Cerberus. Because of Orpheus’s sweet
tune, all damned souls in Tartarus are briefly relieved from their torment. In
Ixion’s case, the solar wheel halted its rotary motion. In a word, art provides
momentary solace from the circuitry of suffering and boredom in which the
human agent is born.
Aesthetical experience thus rescues the individual from his or her individ-
uality. Such experiences are rather commonplace: by enjoying a good movie,
a performance of music or simply staring at a painting, the individual can,
when seriously committed, feel him or herself momentarily displaced and no
longer enslaved by his daily interests. These are brief moments of respite that
do not, however, fundamentally change a human being. These can, however,
render vivid an intuition that there is a kind of peace or even a higher sense
of happiness to be gained from disconnecting oneself from the affirmation
of the will. What has often troubled commentators is how Schopenhauer
connects aesthetical experiences to experiences of pleasure. Pleasure or sat-
isfaction appears whenever a certain object of willing is met and the agent
momentarily experiences the complacency of having a desire met. Obviously,
aesthetical experience involves a similar feeling of complacency, but what,
if any, object of the will is being satisfied so that this pleasure is attained?
Schopenhauer posed the question himself as: “How are pleasure and delight
in an object possible without its having any kind of connection to our will-
ing?” (PP2 442). Schopenhauer’s immediate solution to this question sug-
gests that the individual and the particular aims and desires of the individual
are left behind in aesthetical experience by becoming the “will-free subject
of cognition” (PP2 442). With the disappearance of the will, the sorrows
and sufferings of the individual disappear. Pleasure in aesthetical perception
thus revolves around “the removal of the whole possibility of suffering”

(PP2 443). This does imply that, in aesthetical experience, there remains a
subject to experience the removal of ‘the whole possibility of suffering’. As
such, there must be an individual remaining to experience the beautiful, but
that individual lacks any individual characteristics. This is difficult to imag-
ine, but it is what Schopenhauer calls a ‘pure subject’.
What helps to render Schopenhauer’s notion more understandable is the
distinction he makes, when discussing theodicy, between ‘being something’
and ‘perceiving something’:
An optimist tells me to open my eyes and, looking into the world, see
how beautiful it is: in the sunshine, with its mountains, valleys, streams,
plants, animals, etc.—But is the world then a peep show? These things
are of course beautiful to look at, but to be them is something entirely
different.
(WWV2 665)
Schopenhauer readily establishes here that to perceive something can be

a rather positive and pleasant experience, but to be something, which is
necessarily a ‘subject of willing’, is always unpleasant. Schopenhauer makes
the same distinction between “the world as will” and “the world as repre-
sentation” and, while “the former is the world of longing and therefore of
pain and thousand-fold woes”, the latter is “essentially painless; moreover it
contains a spectacle that is worth seeing, thoroughly significant, and at least
entertaining” (PP2 443). As such, Schopenhauer argues that to perceive the
world objectively as a pure subject is a special form of delight that becomes
available through the abolition of the will: “To become a pure subject of
cognition means to be rid of oneself” (PP2 443). Willing is an obstacle to
pure objectivity; willing must then be halted for a purely objective experi-
ence to emerge.
But does this solution not reverse causality here? On the one hand, a
vision of pure objectivity is enabled by the momentary halting of the will
but, on the other hand, the purely objective perception of the piece of art
can accomplish the halting of the will only by being recognized as a vision
of pure objectivity. In other words, the purely objective enjoyment is possible
only by recognizing it as pure objectivity, which is possible only by stopping
to will, but stopping to will is possible only through pure objectivity. This
means that something in human nature must already be hospitable to pure
objectivity, and the piece of art simply reinforces this aspect of the human
being. Pure objectivity, then, does not emerge in viewing the piece of art, but
is empowered. Schelling’s philosophy of art is probably a more consistent
thinking through of the consequences of this, although this cannot be devel-
oped here.
Art accomplishes its soteriological end in a more episodic manner than
philosophical knowledge since it happens only briefly on certain occasions.
Religion was similarly less efficient than philosophical knowledge because

religion is based upon allegory and cannot present the grueling truth of being
directly; instead, it uses the detour of symbols and allegory. Art is less efficient
than philosophical knowledge because art is dependent upon the materiality
of the piece of art and the limited endurance of human beings to maintain
a state of aesthetical passion. Therefore, it should not come as a surprise
that Schopenhauer assesses an inverse relationship between the necessity of a
material substrate and the perfection of the piece of art. Still, art will always
be dependent on something material (even if it is just vibrations in the air
as with music) and can only provide the solace the human agent is looking
for by ‘being present’. Art can, however, make the human agent so sensible
to the essence of things that the spectator acquires interest in philosophical
knowledge that will truly set him or her free:
Art redeems him from life, not forever but rather only momentarily, and
it is not yet his way out of life, but only an occasional source of comfort
within life itself, until this intensifies his powers to the point where he
finally grows tired of the game and seizes upon serious things.
(WWV1 316)
Notes
1. Alain Besançon, The Forbidden Image: An Intellectual History of Iconoclasm.
Translated by Jane Todd (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press,
2000), pp. 301–302.
2. The postmodernist reading of Nietzsche (Müller-Lauter, Deleuze, Derrida, Nehamas)
has trouble accounting for the tendency of certain configurations of will to power,
such as religion, politics, etc., to be reactive. This appears to be a kind of essentialism
that would be out of place within Nietzsche’s perspectivism. Gilles Deleuze sig-
nals this problem in his Nietzsche and Philosophy (Columbia: Columbia University
Press, 2006), pp. 4–5.
3. Friedrich Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy and Other Writings. Edited by Raymond
Geuss and Ronald Speirs (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), p. 7.
4. Ibid., p. 87.
5. Ibid., p. 97.
6. Some of the more convincing comparisons include: Bart Vandenabeele, The
Sublime in Schopenhauer’s Philosophy (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015),
pp. 33–82; Sandra Shapshay, ‘Schopenhauer’s Transformation of the Kantian
Sublime’. In: Kantian Review 17:3 (2012) 479–511; Guyer, 2008; Julian Young,
‘The Standpoint of Eternity: Schopenhauer on Art’. In: Kant-Studien 78 (1987)
424–441.
7. Charles Baudelaire, Oeuvres completes I. Edited by Claude Pichois (Paris: Editions
Gallimard, 1975), p. 10.
8. Ibid., pp. 278–279.
9. Alex Neill, ‘Aesthetic Experience in Schopenhauer’s Metaphysics of Will’. In:
Better Consciousness: Schopenhauer’s Philosophy of Value. Edited by Christopher
Janaway and Alex Neill (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009), pp. 26–40; Young,
1987, pp. 85–98. I have fully developed and resolved this paradox in: Dennis
Vanden Auweele, ‘Schopenhauer and the Paradox of Genius’. In: Epoché: A

Journal for the History of Philosophy 20 (2015) 149–168.
10. Cf. James Engell, The Creative Imagination: Enlightenment to Romanticism
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1981), pp. 78–88.
11. Schopenhauer follows this wedge rather enthusiastically. After detailing at some
length the character of practical life, which includes natural science, but also
commerce etc., he emphasizes that “matters are completely different in the case
of apprehending the objective, indigenous essence of things, which constitute
their (Platonic) Idea and must form the basis of every achievement in the fine
arts” (PP2 445).
12. For a full account of the influences on Kant’s aesthetical theory: Giorgio Tonelli
(1966), ‘Kant’s Early Theory of Genius (1770–1779): Part 1’. In: Journal for the
History of Philosophy 4 (1966) 109–132; Giorgio Tonelli, ‘Kant’s Early Theory
of Genius (1770–1779): Part 2’. In: Journal for the History of Philosophy 4
(1966) 209–224.
13. For more on the historical context of Schopenhauer’s account of genius, espe-
cially with regard to Kant and Hegel: Lucian Krukowski, ‘Schopenhauer and the
Aesthetics of Creativity’. In: Schopenhauer, Philosophy, and the Arts. Edited by
Dale Jacquette (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 62–80.
14. There are a number of interpretative difficulties with Schopenhauer’s argument
that I will not address at length here, such as why the will would allow for
aesthetics experience to happen. The answer is fairly simple: it just does. One
cannot speak rationally about the motivations of something that is arational
and without motivation. For discussion of this problem: Alex Neill, ‘Aesthetic
Experience in Schopenhauer’s Metaphysics of Will’. In: Better Consciousness.
Schopenhauer’s Philosophy of Value. Edited by Christopher Janaway and Alex
Neill (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009), pp. 26–40.
7 Schopenhauer’s Ascetics
The culmination of Schopenhauer’s philosophy happens in the intuitive

apprehension of the metaphysical insight into the wretchedness of natural
existence, the nullity of the affirmation of the will the life and the ultimate
unity of reality. Some individuals can be overtaken by this insight to such
an extent that they find their will to life annulled: they have let go of all
desire.
In this chapter, I would like to work up to this point by illustrating how
Schopenhauer’s pessimistic philosophy of suffering is more in tune with
the trajectory of modern philosophy than is generally acknowledged. In a
nutshell, this means that the steady process of rendering all (moral) value
subjective gives way to an awkward sense of nihilism in Schopenhauer’s
philosophy when it turns out that even subjective value is ultimately mean-
ingless. The obvious escape from this dismal condition, namely suicide,
is remarkably not something Schopenhauer recommends to his readers.
Instead, he attempts to render persuasive a philosophical sense of asceticism
wherein the individuality of the agent disappears into an evanescent mem-
ory. At this point, the individual passes over from a state of being ‘some-
thing’ towards being ‘nothing’.
Section 1: Suffering and the Good

The bulk of Schopenhauer’s philosophical-emancipatory project revolves
basically around achieving one objective, namely to attain a state of being
in which there is no suffering. While such things as compassion, art and
religion might achieve this only momentarily and/or imperfectly, they can
assist in rendering more vivid the necessary insight to deny life altogether.
Before addressing the most efficient solution to the problem of suffering,
namely asceticism, two distinct aspects of Schopenhauer’s project ought to
be separated and clarified, namely the tools that free one from suffering and
the nature of that suffering.
If certain practices are appropriately attuned to the truth, they can work
as a grace that frees human beings from suffering. If compassion is sparked
by the intimate yet ambiguous realization that individual differences are
Schopenhauer’s Ascetics 191
illusory, it can provoke a release from the self-obsession in which human
beings are generally born. If religious practices, rites and beliefs allegori-
cally convey the deep pessimistic truth of being that all works are ultimately
for naught and that existence is sinful, then this insight can work so as to
numb the self-affirmation of the individual. If art is the representation of
the Platonic Idea, the perception of that piece of artistic genius can momen-
tarily induce a bout of selfless contemplation of the in itself of reality in
which the subject disappears. While the passive receptivity of the agent is
emphasized in each of these three—compassion moves us, religion inspires

us and art overtakes us—human beings do have some sort of interest in
submitting themselves to these, namely the same interest that moves them to
satisfy their desires. This is the interest one has in the attainment of a state
of being that is free from suffering, which is a natural given in any human
agent through a veritable disgust of suffering (chapter four, section three).
Whether or not there is an actual desire to be without desire is an interesting
paradox. Obviously, to desire to be without desire seems self-defeating, but
if the insight into the a priori nature of suffering is to have any motivational
effect, it ought to have some effect on the will. In a recent article, Christo-
pher Janaway points out that Schopenhauer does seem to allow for a will
to will-lessness to emerge in human beings. Among others, he refers to two
interesting passages. The first passage runs as follows:
We sometimes gain a very intimate recognition of the nothingness and

bitterness of life in the form of our own painful sufferings or our vivid
recognition of the sufferings of others, and we would like to take the
sting out of desire and prevent any suffering from coming in, to cleanse
and sanctify ourselves through complete and lasting renunciation.
(WWV1 448, Janaway’s emphasis)
In this passage, Schopenhauer clearly suggests that we actively desire to be

without desire. In the second passage referred by Janaway, Schopenhauer
describes the “inner joy and true heavenly peace” of those who have denied
life and adds that “when we behold this person with our eyes or in our
imagination, we cannot help feeling the greatest longing, since we acknowl-
edge that this alone is in the right and infinitely superior to everything else”
(WWV1 461). From this, Janaway concludes that “the ordinary person
caught in the round of natural desire and satisfaction that Schopenhauer
normally calls ‘the will,’ also wants or longs for a superior state of peace and
renunciation. In some sense then, we will will-lessness”.1 Janaway’s point
seems cogent at first. Another passage (not referenced by Janaway) seems
even bolder, namely, Schopenhauer suggests that the redeeming principle
might even be in the will to life itself: “We must take them [i.e., sparks of
honesty, goodness and genius] as a pledge that a good and redeeming prin-
ciple lies in this Samsara, which can achieve a breakthrough and fulfil and
liberate the whole” (PP2 233). Does this signal, as Janaway seems to suggest,
that there is a desire not to desire or perhaps even a will to will-lessness in
human agents? In one way, yes, but in another way, no.
Schopenhauer’s suggestions here are better read as awkwardly part of
the Kantian system of moral motivation. One of the prime issues in Kant’s
moral and religious philosophy concerns the capacity to render intelligible
how and why human beings are interested in the ‘good’. Since there can be
no sensuous interest (Neigung) in morality, or else it would not be duty,
that interest must derive from elsewhere. And even then, the apodictic com-
mands of the categorical imperative are often counter to our own designs. To
human beings, at least according to Kant, rationality and goodness are not
at all attractive. Schopenhauer’s soteriology is in a similar conundrum: the
natural inclinations of human beings do not lead towards goodness. But, if
there is nothing beyond nature to come to the rescue, how are we to think
of the denial of the will to life? In Kant’s moral philosophy, the interest in
morality arises from pure insight that becomes practical: a thought that has
the potential to move us of itself. Things are different for Schopenhauer,
since the end-goal in negation of the will is the same as the natural end-
goal of all natural endeavors, i.e., to undo suffering. Clear insight divulges
that the normal and natural affirmation of the will is remarkably ineffective
towards this end and seeks recourse at first in compassion, religion and
art for providing the necessary assistance for the life-denial that ultimately
accomplishes the redemption from suffering. In other words, pure insight
into the nullity of desire—when it reaches beyond the merely ‘abstract’
towards the ‘intuitive’—can have some form of motivational force. This
means that human ingenuity can bend the natural goal of human beings in a
more efficient direction by insight. I will show how this happens in morality,
religion and art.
The first revelation of this is the unique moral incentive that, through
some form of equivocal philosophical knowledge, recognizes the ultimate
unity of reality and accepts all suffering as one’s own. Through feeling such
suffering on a metaphysical level, the human agent is propelled to undo
suffering. However, compassion is itself still a part of the circuitry of the
affirmation of the will to life, since the suffering of starving human beings is
undone by giving, for instance, a piece of bread, not by offering stable phil-
osophical knowledge that will free them from desire altogether. Accordingly,
while compassion might be able to undo a significant amount of suffering,
it cannot amount to sufficient stability so as to be the proper end for ethics
or philosophy. In a manner of Biblical speech, compassion gives a man a
fish a day rather than teaching him how to fish. This is why Schopenhauer
does not shy away from pointing out how moral virtues are a stepping-stone
to asceticism, and not themselves the final purpose of temporal existence.
Religion can achieve more than compassion, as it is able to allegorically and
symbolically acquaint the masses with the philosophical truth of the nullity
of human existence. Accordingly, religion is an ersatz form of philosophical
wisdom that allows even the most uneducated individuals a glimpse at the
essence of existence. It is not mere happenstance that most pessimistic reli-
gions advocate compassion: they legislate something veiled by allegorical
stories that more informed individuals would know to be the proper course
of action by conviction. Art is, again, a type of knowledge, in the form of an
acquaintance with the philosophical truth of the nullity of existence that is
less veiled than religious myth but less persevering. Art is, because of this,
capable of acquainting the spectator with the essence of existence (Platonic
Ideas) and accordingly brings a momentarily release from servitude to the
will to life.
What is germane to all three of these imperfect tools for moral motiva-
tion is that they radically (root and all) remove human beings from their
natural condition. But this does not mean to forfeit the natural goal of
existence! The compassionate agent, religious believer and enjoyer of art
have become disinterestedly interested in certain non-natural objects. They
have dramatically and radically rearranged their ways of acting. In fact, it is
precisely this radical break that allows for compassion, religion and art to
facilitate the denial of the will to life. Any approach to ethics, any religion
or any aesthetical creation that does not advocate or cultivate such a radical
break with nature is slandered by Schopenhauer. Many approaches to eth-
ics, many religions and many pieces of art can be seen as set on a continuum
with nature and the affirmation of the will to life. With regard to ethics,
Schopenhauer objects to the selfish hedonism in those utilitarian theories
that hold the moral good to secure ultimately the agent’s happiness. Ethics
should instead teach a valuable lesson about not being interested in happi-
ness, and the moral good in particular should never be consummated with
or lead to personal happiness. Ethics must prepare the way for the insight
that happiness is of no importance. This is, next to the rational normativity
of the moral law, the second objection Schopenhauer’s makes to Kant’s
moral philosophy: in the doctrine of the ‘complete good’ (bonum consum-
matum), the moral law is consummated with happiness proportionate to it.
Similarly, the hallmark of an authentic religion should be the insight that
any natural works are useless for redemption, and Schopenhauer accord-
ingly rages against those religions that focus on humanity’s own abilities in
securing their redemption—but also those religions bent on taking them-
selves as literally true (but that is a different issue). Instead, he celebrates
religions that, through symbol and allegory, enliven the notion that human
agency itself amounts to nothing, and that something quite opposed to
nature is necessary to facilitate salvation. Finally, genuine art is the rep-
resentation of the timeless archetypes of reality and instills a momentary
Sabbath in our penal service to the will. Profane or vulgar art, to the con-
trary, manifests earthly objects for their supposed representational beauty;
or stimulating art seeks to arouse emotions rather than contribute to a state
of being without will. All of these are fiercely condemned by Schopenhauer,
since they forsake the true purpose of art, which, once again, is the radical
break with nature.
If one would uncouple Schopenhauer’s assessment of compassion, reli-
gion and art from their existential basis, i.e., a life mired in suffering, one
will be surprised by the noteworthy optimism Schopenhauer consistently
entertains with regard to the efficacy of these to accomplish their respec-
tive ends. In other words, while Schopenhauer might be a pessimist with
regard to the potential for goodness of natural existence, he is profoundly
optimistic about the different ways to exit from this natural condition. For
instance, Schopenhauer subscribes, like Kant, to a morality of intentions
wherein only the intention that motivates the action is allotted a moral pred-
icate. For Kant, this leads to a moral agnosticism, since there is a determinate
lack of introspection, and thus no one can ever really know whether they
acted morally or not. Schopenhauer, however, univocally accepts that moral
actions occur (BGE 203) and emphasizes—even though compassion requires
substantial metaphysical insight—that the moral incentive operates in every
human agent. The way Schopenhauer distances himself from Kant on this
subject could largely be attributed to the influence of the British empiricists
(Shaftesbury, Hutcheson, and Hume) on his moral philosophy, especially in
the Prize Essay on the Basis of Morality.2 While Kant proceeded by ratio-
nally setting up a ground for morality, the British empiricists offer instead
an analysis of different possible motives for action and suggest that some of
these have moral worth (and others do not). This comparison only goes so
far, however; Schopenhauer is not a proponent of ‘moral sentimentalism’,
since his ethics is connected to his metaphysics in a way that the British
empiricist would not appreciate (BGE 108–109). With regard to religion,
Schopenhauer is loath to reduce religion to ‘paternalistic deception’ or ‘hos-
tile delusion’, as suggested by some of the more militant Enlightenment athe-
ists. Instead, he believes that religion at its best is the honest attempt to allow
the uneducated masses ‘of whom thinking cannot be asked’ a glimpse at the
essence of being. In fact, Schopenhauer admits that a lot of religions have
gotten plenty of essential things right. Finally, Schopenhauer’s theory of art is
in many ways a dithyramb to beauty and sublimity; the possible redemptive
potential of the piece of art is a decisive new theme in Western philosophy. In
contrast with Kant and Schelling’s philosophy of art, Schopenhauer is play-
ful and enthusiastic in his discussion of beauty, genius and sublimity. On rare
occasions, Schopenhauer even turns ecstatic when he claims that, if viewed
objectively, “everything is beautiful” (WWV1 248). Artists galore are named
geniuses. Indeed, Schopenhauer’s optimism oozes out of his discussions of
compassion, religion and art.
One should nevertheless never lose sight of what is arguably the singular
most important aspect of Schopenhauer’s philosophy, namely, the core con-
viction that existence is horrible, that ‘to be’ is best regarded as a punish-
ment and that all our vain attempts at a natural redemption only submerge
us deeper into misery: “One can also conceive of our life as a uselessly
disturbing episode in the blissful calm of nothingness” (PP2 318–319). This
automatically puts Schopenhauer’s ‘optimism’ with regard to the efficacy
of the above practices in a new perspective, namely that religion, art and
compassion take effect in what Schopenhauer at one point calls the “the
worst of all possible [worlds]” (WWV2 667). As such, Schopenhauer’s opti-
mistic belief in the possibility of salvation is in the shadow of that from
which we ought to escape. But wherefrom arises Schopenhauer’s convic-
tion of the omnipresence of pain, hardship and suffering? Did his morose
and grumpy temperament induce him to so damningly judge the world?3
Schopenhauer himself claims that, by close examination of the human con-
dition, the only possible conclusion is that life is and ought to be miserable,
but not everyone concurs with that conclusion. Was there perhaps some-
thing in the 19th-century esprit du temps that moved Schopenhauer to his
gloomy perspective on existence? Perhaps this is a general discontentment
with regard to existence, a growing distrust in reason and the steady decline
of the persuasiveness of faith?
Section 2: The Modern Malaise

At one point in history, the medieval creed Ens est Bonum et Verum was a
solemn presupposition: whatever ‘is’ is good and right. This assumption was
put into question and replaced by a markedly different perspective on real-
ity, namely a view of reality as disenchanted, godless and morally neutral.
Charles Taylor accounts for this shift by pointing out a pervasive new way
of perceiving the ‘self’ that arose near the end of the Middle Ages, namely a
‘self’ that is no longer defined as an openness or porosity towards the world
and God, but buffered, self-enclosed, and pure unbridgeable subjectivity:
“A new sense of the self and its place in the cosmos: not open and porous
and vulnerable to a world of spirits and powers, but what I want to call
‘buffered’ ”.4 Whatever value arises in the world is generated by a subject
and can no longer to be found in (super)nature. This new view of value and
subjectivity was an important factor in understanding “[the story of] secu-
larization in the Modern West”.5 This story of secularization is a narrative
about how religion is understood “as that which is retreating in public space,
or as a type of belief and practice which is or is not in regression, and as a
certain kind of belief or commitment whose conditions in this age are being
examined”.6 Because that nature was felt to be ‘silent’ when it came to value,
there simultaneously arose a tendency to look for value in the human sub-
ject. The Irish philosopher William Desmond similarly argues that moder-
nity ‘clogged up’ its porosity towards value emanating from outside of the
subject. Modernity accomplished this by attributing the characteristics that
typically belonged to God (self-originating, value conferring, and center of
the world) to the human subject.7 Since only the human subject attributes
value to the world, the world itself is bereft of such value.
The neutrality of the world was not seen initially as posing a significant
threat to the human agent’s ambitions and desires, but, to the contrary,
this was conceived as the very condition for the exercise of scientific and
emancipatory pursuits of humanity as freed from religious and moral con-
straints. In response, morality took a new shape as based on concerns that
flowed from human beings (humanism). According to early modern philos-
ophy, the world is not in itself teleologically oriented at an ‘absolute good’
or ‘final end’, but the human being is properly and beneficially oriented
towards a highest good (autonomy) and will redirect the world into that
proper direction. This conviction, that the human agent might redirect neu-
tral reality, was gradually put into question. Kant’s notion of the radical pro-
pensity to evil is an important precursor, but this was achieved more overtly
in the thought of numerous 19th-century philosophers. Here, the insight
dawned that human nature, and particularly rationality, was not benefi-
cially oriented toward a highest good, and that any optimism proved naïve
and unwarranted (see also Nietzsche, Marx, Kierkegaard, etc.). In Schopen-
hauer’s philosophy, this takes form as the profound mire of suffering that
human beings perennially find themselves in, which, on a whole, signals
that human existence will not lead, by itself, to positive fulfillment. From
this arose the need to intervene in human nature by means of radical tools.
Against humanist optimism, the later modern period did not look upon
reality as something that required simple molding, but emphasized the need
for subordination and control. In a manner of speech, the ideal of reshaping
the world itself required a radical change: we need a revolution that thor-
oughly breaks with the past so as to start fully anew. Obviously, this brushed
off on human nature as well, itself requiring radical change. Nietzsche was
particularly vocal in the need to accomplish this in Thus spoke Zarathustra,
where he frequently reiterates the one-liner: “Man is something that needs
to be overcome”.8
This new emphasis on the subjective nature of value had as one of its
foremost causes the increasing influence of Protestant theology, Gnostic
Wisdom and Nominalism on morality and soteriology. Germane to these
perspectives is the view that there ought to be a radical dualism between
nature and the good. For instance, the Protestant Reformation (i.e., Luther/
Calvin) held that traditional scholastics entertained excessive optimism with
regard to the human, natural powers to know God and to adhere to the
moral good. In their view, insofar as human beings remain uninspired by
revelation, they remain incapable of knowing and adhering to the soterio-
logical good.9 Similarly, Gnostic theology, which numerous scholars found
to have had a revival in late Medieval times and early Modernity (Hans
Jonas, Eric Voegelin and Jacob Taubes), held that only through knowledge
of one’s wretched condition and faith in the ‘alien and hidden God’ (Deus
Absconditus) could the human agent be saved. According to Eric Voegelin,
Gnosticism is best understood fairly broadly as “the experience of the world
as an alien place into which man has strayed and from which he must find
his way back home to the other world of his origin”.10 In its modern form,
then, Gnosticism emphasizes a power-relationship between human knowl-
edge and reality, the latter being subjected to the former. Again, a dualistic
perspective emerges between the natural, depraved condition and the sote-
riological good through knowledge. Finally, some authors have pointed
out that the emergence of the Nominalistic emphasis on the unknowability
of transcendent objects gave way to a new approach to knowledge (e.g.,
Blumenberg). Human beings are naturally incapable of knowing God, and
would therefore be better off focusing their attention on other affairs. What
unites these three very different theological perspectives is that they empha-
size the radical distance between human nature and the good. Because of
this distance, nature itself becomes infinitely removed from the good and the
human subject; and now, the source of value has to radically remodel reality
in accordance with certain supernatural (or better: counter-natural) tenets.
This ideal of a revolution was virtually omnipresent in modern philosophy:
Descartes’ hyperbolic doubt, Kant’s Copernican revolution, Schopenhauer’s
radical denial of the will, Nietzsche’s hammer. It was felt that one could no
longer ‘get to work’ with that which what is naturally given to the human
agent and instead believed that all of nature should be subverted and com-
pletely rebuilt from the ground up (e.g., Descartes’ admiration for urban
planning over more organically built cities in Discours de la méthode).
Modern philosophy initially entertained the notion that reason would be
the light that guided the revolution; one of the most dramatic forms of this
was the French Revolution’s Cult of Reason. Steadily, however, reason was
perceived as itself tainted by the malaise that overtook natural being and
therefore would be a poor guide to lead humanity through Dante’s Inferno,
upwards the mount of Purgatory and into Paradise. Even in Dante’s epic
poem, his initial guide Virgil had to stop short at the top of Purgatory, for his
counsel would be of no more use in Paradise—instead, Dante was accompa-
nied by his mysterious love Beatrice. Much as Dante left Virgil, modernity
realized that reason had to be forsaken as a guide, at least, if it wanted to
gain access to Paradise. This becomes most explicit in the respective phil-
osophical critiques of Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Marx and Freud (the last
three are called the Masters of Suspicion by Ricoeur), who emphasized that
reason is but a descendant from a more original, darker principle (will, the
market or the unconscious). In Kant, the first significant dents in the Enlight-
enment project were visible, since even he accepts a pervasive and incessant
resistance in the human agent against reason. A number of (largely marginal)
voices suggested that perhaps faith could accomplish what reason could
not. These thinkers tried early on to pierce through the whole mechanic of
self-elevating reason and cogently urged for a return to (non-)dogmatic faith
(Pascal, Hamann, Jacobi, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky). Generally, modernity took
a rather harsh stance vis-à-vis faith: all of religion is to be judged, whether
positively or negatively, by the tribunal of reason. If religious beliefs do not
pass this test, they are to be discarded. If faith tended to play any role in
modern discourse, it was inside the confines of reason (e.g., Kant’s rational
faith). Schopenhauer’s philosophy of religion is in many ways a continuation
of this perspective: those religions that accord with the philosophical truth
of being are tolerated as vessels for truth for the masses, whose limited intel-
lects make philosophy impalpable.
The omnipresence of suffering in Schopenhauer’s philosophy is a dra-
matic symptom of Schopenhauer’s equivocal acknowledgment that ‘being’
in itself is no good. Only through a violent break with that which is natu-
rally given does life get any value. Accordingly, suffering is Schopenhauer’s
non-religious argument that human beings are fallen and that existence is
sinful. Indeed, Schopenhauer repeatedly likens his assessments of the nul-
lity of existence to religious stories that show that existence is born from
guilt and could rightfully be characterized as a punishment (e.g., original
sin). Schopenhauer entertained significant optimism in the human being’s
potency to be delivered from this evil, but we must not be fooled by appear-
ances. It is in no way the natural affirmation of the will to life (or any
‘training’ of that will) that could deliver the human agent. Only a violent
denial of the will to life, a revolution, or, better yet, a radical break with
nature delivers the human agent. Compassion, art and religion facilitated
such a revolution for those who are philosophically unable to attain the
proper insights.
Section 3: Suicide
What have we learned about Schopenhauer’s worldview so far? Suffering is
the a priori identity of life, which means that any individual’s life is necessar-
ily and excessively filled with suffering, torment and boredom. The proper
symbolic representation for such an existence is to view it as a punishment,
for which we must find atonement. While there are some ways to temporar-
ily escape this dismal condition, these can never wrest us free from the deep
dark truth that it is better not to be: “A mature weighing of the matter yields
the result that complete non-being would be preferable to an existence like
ours” (PP2 85). What makes things worse is that difference between life and
death, which appears quite radical, is nothing but a representational illusion,
which means that our (non-)existence as an individual does not touch the
essence of reality: “In truth however the constant arising of new beings and
the coming to nothing of existing beings is to be regarded as an illusion”
(PP2 287). In short, life is suffering, human beings mean nothing and can
never become anything of significance.
If one were to take all of the above profoundly seriously, as we must
assume Schopenhauer does, these arguments would incline Schopenhauer,
in the words of Dale Jacquette, to “[position] himself for an enthusiastic
philosophical defense of suicide”.11 Not just because life is suffering, but
also because there do not seem to be any moral restraints on suicide in
Schopenhauer’s philosophy, and the highest goal to be reached is a release
from suffering, which seems to make suicide a highly recommendable option.
But, strangely enough, Schopenhauer comes out powerfully against suicide:
“Nothing can be more different from this negation [of the will to life] than
suicide” (WWV 471). This appears to be an overstatement: is not the every-
day affirmation of the will to life (nutrition, procreation, etc.) vastly different
than the voluntarily ending of one’s individual existence? Does this not mean
that suicide at least approaches the negation of the will to life? Schopenhau-
er’s answer is definitely negative and, especially in WWV1, he is very harsh
on the suicidal person. As a result, he is often read, as Jacquette opines at one
point, as “merely trying awkwardly now within his pessimistic and arguably
nihilistic philosophical system to accommodate the squeamishness of tradi-
tional morality about the problem of suicide”.12 Even worse, Schopenhauer

is often read as terribly inconsistent in his opposition to suicide. This section
will show, however, that Schopenhauer was quite right to oppose suicide (at
least, from within his philosophy) and, moreover, is forced to mark suicide
as a quasi-immoral act.
The novelty of Schopenhauer’s approach to suicide is not in the result,
but in the means. By this, I mean that he accepts suicide as a wrong, but he
does not simply rehash the standard moral or theological arguments against
suicide. Instead, he invents a unique metaphysical argument against suicide.
This argument is designed to avoid two pitfalls, namely either to base the
prohibition against suicide upon theological considerations (dogmatic phi-
losophy) or to ground it upon normative duties towards oneself (Kant).
While Schopenhauer does not discuss the traditional arguments at length, a
brief historical outline could be helpful. Throughout the history of Western
philosophy, most philosophers have come out against suicide—with a few
rare exceptions.13 Those who argue against suicide often appeal to a power
or being higher than the human being. For instance, early on in the Phaedo,
Socrates argues that suicide infringes upon the rights of the gods who gov-
ern mankind. A human being who would take his or her own life upsets the
gods in a way not dissimilar to a sheep plunging itself down into a ravine.
This could rightly upset the shepherd, who likely had other plans.14 In the
Christian tradition, suicide was seen as a remarkably pernicious act, perhaps
even the worst sin imaginable! For instance, in Canto XIII of the Divina
Comedia, Dante Alighieri is confronted with those who are punished for
taking their own lives. These souls are plummeted down through the circles
of hell, take root into the ground, sprout branches and have their lifeless
body hung on these branches. For all of eternity, they are attacked by har-
pies, whom they cannot fend off because they are incapable of movement.
What is worse, these suicidal ones are the only condemned souls in the
whole of the Inferno who are bereft of the ability to be redeemed by Jesus
Christ. That is the case because they have renounced their claims on their
body, which makes resurrection impossible. In less of a narrative and more
of a philosophical fashion, Thomas Aquinas seminally combined the three
standard arguments opposing suicide (See: Summa Theologiae, Part 2, Q 64,
A 5). These are, without going into any detail, that suicide is a sin against
natural self-love, that suicide is a sin against the community, and that suicide
is a sin against the laws of God.
While Thomas Aquinas provided good arguments for his position, David
Hume dealt a stunning blow to these objections to suicide in his essay On
Suicide. Against the point that suicide sins against self-love, Hume objected
that no human being would throw away a good life, and so voluntary
self-destruction does not destroy something that is good (and Christians are
otherwise called to wage war against that which is evil). Against the point
that suicide sins against the rights of the community, Hume objected that,
when a member relinquishes his right in a community, he must also necessar-
ily relinquish his duties towards a community. Against the point that suicide
sins against God’s divine plan, Hume objected that such a plan—if there is
one—must govern everything, and so also suicide. And even if suicide were
an act of autonomy that upsets God’s plan, its relevance is only marginal
compared to other human, autonomous actions. If human beings can in fact
divert from God’s plan, they routinely make vast changes to this plan—such
as city-building, stream-channeling and global warming—and such a small
alteration as taking the life of an individual seems of marginal consequence
compared to these others.
To some extent because of Hume’s skeptical attacks, the ban on suicide
could no longer be sanctioned by the classical, theologically inspired argu-
ments. In response, Kant came up with the argument (after developing a few
others first)15 that suicide is a transgression against the moral law, specifi-
cally towards the duties to ourselves (MS 422–424). The second formulation
of the categorical imperative stipulates that no one, not even the self, can
be used merely as a means. As such, Kant interprets the act of suicide as
elevating the principle of self-love above the moral law, since the avoidance
of suffering is perceived to be of more importance than our moral duties.
What is particularly interesting about Kant’s argument is that suicide is not
forbidden per se, but that the usual motive in committing suicide is immoral.
Kant never comes out and says this, even though he hints to it in his casu-
istical questions (MS 423–424), but perhaps suicide could be allowed by
the moral law under some circumstances? If suicide were motivated not by
self-love but perhaps because of certain moral considerations, Kant might
not characterize it as a vice. Despite his being a moral rigorist on a great
many issues, Kant’s argument does not seem to imply that suicide is to be
universally rejected. For instance, a person taking his own life so as to facil-
itate the survival of others, for example in the case of the scarcity of food or
water, could be perfectly in accordance with the second formulation of the
categorical imperative.
Schopenhauer does not elaborately discuss these various historical argu-
ments against suicide—he simply suggests that these are “illusory” (WWV1
109)—and even Kant’s argument in the Metaphysics of Morals receives only
fairly scant attention. At first appearance, Schopenhauer’s own metaphysical
argument against suicide, which will be developed below, seems inconsis-
tent.16 If read charitably, however, Schopenhauer’s argument is remarkably
consistent and perfectly in tune with his pessimism. Schopenhauer holds
that the natural abilities of the human agent can never procure any kind of
good and, since suicide is, for Schopenhauer at least, the exercise of these
natural abilities, the act of suicide cannot, at least in most cases, amount to
the proper moral motivation to secure the highest good.17
Schopenhauer deals with the matter of suicide numerous times, but usu-
ally rather briefly. One reason why Schopenhauer might have been hesitant
to deal elaborately with arguing against suicide is that he thinks that moral
duties do not have a ground in rationality. Moral duties do not derive their
persuasiveness from rational consideration, but from an intimate insight

into the ultimate unity of reality. So rational consideration could never “have
wrested the dagger from the hands of Cato, Cleopatra, Cocceius Nerva or
Arria the wife of Paetus” (BGE 127–128; cf. BGE 160). Abstract, rational
argumentation is thoroughly inept to change the mind of a suicidal person.
Schopenhauer believes instead that the existential disposition of optimism,
which is what leads in most cases towards suicide, should be replaced by the
disposition of pessimism. Remember, optimism believes that happiness is a
possibility for human beings. This disposition will make it so that failure
to achieve happiness is experienced as betrayal. Pessimism, however, would
caution against the pursuit of happiness and is therefore less prone to lead
to severe disappointment.
Schopenhauer believes that Kant was right, on the one hand, to denounce
suicide and, on the other hand, to do so without reference to religion or theo-
logical arguments, but Kant was confused about the principle warranting
the rejection of suicide (WWV1 473). Schopenhauer would have considered
himself to be an ideal candidate for discovering the true principle behind the
rejection of suicide, not just because he was a rather morose pessimist, but
also because he lived through the consequences of his own father’s suicide.18
The official death notice ascribed Heinrich Floris Schopenhauer’s death to
an accident, but Arthur Schopenhauer was convinced that his father had
killed himself. At one point, he accused his mother of being at the root of
his father’s voluntary death because her worldly and outgoing character
brought a lot of anxiety to the mind of Heinrich Floris.19 Already early on
in his intellectual development, Schopenhauer undertook several attempts
to formulate an argument—any argument really—against suicide.20 What is
perhaps revealing is that Schopenhauer believed that the intellect is usually
a trait inherited from one’s mother, but the will and the tendency to suicide
are inherited from one’s father (WWV2 595–596). As such, it would stand
to reason that Schopenhauer flirted with the thought of suicide at times, but
kept trying to come up with a cogent argument that would wrest the dagger
from his own hands.
In order to understand Schopenhauer’s argument against suicide, we would
do well to come to clarity about what suicide is. Suicide is not a form of the
denial of the will to life, but “a strong affirmation of will” (WWV1 471).
While this might seem paradoxical, it is helpful to place the ability to commit
suicide within a broader framework. Everything is the expression of will to
life, which is the innate drive to avoid suffering and obtain happiness. The
negation of the will to life forfeits both concerns, so it no longer attempts to
obtain happiness, but neither does it aspire to avoid suffering. Since suicide
is in almost all cases induced by the desire to avoid suffering, the suicidal has
not turned away from the will to life completely. Schopenhauer believes that
suicide is unique to human beings, who have received a special “compen-
sation” for their heightened receptivity to suffering, namely the “privilege
of being able to end his life” (BGE 127). This heightened state of potential
suffering is a side-effect of humanity’s excessive understanding, namely, on

the one hand, human beings can become conscious of (the unavoidability of)
suffering and, on the other hand, they can be overtaken by an anxiety with
regard to the future. When (fear of future) suffering overpowers the fear of
death, human agents have the special capacity to destroy their own individ-
ual existence. But since suicide is a natural ability, it is equally an expression
of the will to life that seeks to avoid suffering!
Clearly, Schopenhauer believes that the most informed and ultimately suc-
cessful mode of living involves the denial of the will to life. But this denial
of the will happens upon an individual, and no one can be blamed for being
caught in the affirmation of the will. Therefore, no one can be reprimanded
for any actions in consequence of their will to life, insofar as these do not
harm others. So it would appear that suicide is intrinsically as innocent as
eating or drinking: if no one else is disproportionally harmed by the act,
there is nothing morally wrong about it. What, then, appears highly para-
doxical is that Schopenhauer is remarkably harsh on suicide as something
that seems principally wrong. He is clearly convinced that human beings
ought to forfeit their privilege of ending their own lives prematurely. Is this
a latent reaction against his father’s suicide?
Like more traditionally minded ethics, Schopenhauer names suicide
‘immoral’ (though not a legal crime) and so it has to be condemned. The
reasons given by traditional ethics for this are, however, “strange and sophis-
tical” (WWV1 473). Therefore, Schopenhauer brushes aside the classical
arguments against suicide and writes that “if there really are genuine moral
motives against suicide, then they lie very deep and are not to be reached
with the plumb line of the usual ethics in any case; they belong rather to a
higher mode of representation” (BGE 128). As such, Schopenhauer’s own
argument against suicide, as formulated in § 69 of WWV1, is implicitly
recognized as a moral argument, as he again hints to later on by calling
his argument in WWV1 the “only relevant moral reason against suicide”
(PP2 328). As we will see, Schopenhauer’s argument is actually metaphysi-
cal, but has impressive moral and existential consequences.
Schopenhauer’s discomfort with suicide can be summarized in the follow-
ing one-liner: “Suicide appears to us as a futile [vergebliche] and therefore
foolish [thörichte] act” (WWV1 331; cf. WWV1 471). The two adjectives
in this sentence hint at the twofold argument Schopenhauer deploys against
suicide. First, ‘the futility of suicide’ consists in the inappropriateness of the
means towards the desired end. The desired end is to be freed from suffering;
the means are a form of the affirmation of the will (namely to act upon a
certain desire). Schopenhauer has established that no form of the affirmation
of the will to life could possibly provide the solace the individual aspires.
And, since death is not really an end, suicide is not really a solution (WWV1
350–351; cf. WWV1 472). In a way, the suicidal person hopes to alleviate his
suffering through ending his or her individual life, but he does not recognize
that while his or her individual life is indeed ended, the will itself remains
(suicide itself then being an epiphany of the will’s nature to devour every-
thing, even itself). This means that, ironically, the willful desire for death is
really agency in line with the will to life, which makes the attempt to deny
life in suicide futile (vergeblich): “Suicide is related to the negation of the
will in the same way that the individual thing is related to the Idea. The
person who commits suicide negates only the individual, not the species”
(WWV1 472).
The second adjective, ‘the foolishness of suicide’, consists in the fact that
the agent is improperly informed about the truth of reality. The agent that
commits suicide has not procured sufficient insight into the in itself of
reality, since the knowledgeable individual knows that only through the
full-out denial of desire itself can real salvation be reached, which renders
suicide foolish (töricht). Bryan Magee helpfully points out that the differ-
ence between the suicidal agent and the ascetic is primary one of acquired
knowledge: the ascetic turns his back to life as a whole, the suicidal turns
his back only on the bad things in life.21 In other words, the suicidal agent
lacks the level of information and knowledge of the philosophical ascetic.22
Suicide is, then, according to Schopenhauer, mainly based upon false
information or limited insight, which causes the human to perform ‘foolish’
and ‘futile’ actions. Interestingly, Schopenhauer’s philosophical pessimism
can be taken as an antidote against the suicide of despair, which is based
upon theoretical optimism (cf. WWV1 476). Suicide often is a result of a
form of optimism that believes that certain important goals can be reached
by performing certain actions. In Schopenhauer’s language, it believes that
the end of suffering can be reached by accomplishing one’s desires. When
human beings are dismayed by the fact that their ambitions do not resonate
with the twists and turns of this world, they are drawn to a powerful form of
vengeance. Schopenhauer’s pessimism suggests instead that the world itself
is not at all interested in one’s designs and that the pursuit of happiness will
not render one happy. Pessimism can then be a consolation for the hardship
we experience, since it takes the sting out of failure.
Schopenhauer’s argument against suicide is a mixture of elements of meta-
physics and morality. While suicide is primarily based on limited informa-
tion, this ignorance propels the human agent into a (morally) objectionable
direction. Human agents have an equivocal inclination to attain the best
and most extensive information possible so as to make them prone to act
upon correct information. This explains why Schopenhauer’s philosophy
rejects any kind of moral normativity (‘laws’, ‘duties’, ‘oughts’), but at the
same time appears to be especially moralizing. It would be best for human
agents to act intelligently, i.e., to allow certain abstract concepts to furnish
the motivation for a certain course of action. But is Schopenhauer, given the
pessimistic undertone of his philosophy, not overly harsh on the suicidal
person? While suicide is not a final solution to the problem of suffering, it
can be appreciated as a pseudo-solution to it, like art, compassion and reli-
gion. All three latter lack the highest possible knowledge and therefore fulfill
the true end of philosophy in a limited fashion. This is the main argument
why numerous commentators (see above) have noted that Schopenhauer’s
rejection of suicide is inconsistent: suicide is not wholly bereft of solace from
suffering, since the individual as individual disappears.
The important distinction is, however, that suicide is not, like compassion,
religion and art, informed in a limited or non-comprehensive fashion, but it
is totally uninformed! Suicide does not radically break with the natural abili-
ties and natural aspirations of the human agent, but, on the contrary, affirms
and utilizes these natural abilities. Suicide opposes “achieving the highest
moral goal insofar as it substitutes a merely illusory redemption from this
world of misery for a real one” (PP2 328). The suicidal person usually expe-
riences profound suffering, which would actually allow him or her for the
possibility of the negation of the will to life. As such, those who are on the
brink of committing suicide are uniquely enabled to withdraw from affirm-
ing life. In them, nature has given a unique epiphany of the voraciousness of
willing: “Nature leads the will to the light, because it is only in the light that
it can find its redemption” (WWV1 475). The profound suffering that gives
rise to the thought of suicide is a missed opportunity. From this, one might
even infer (even though Schopenhauer never says it as such) that the suicidal
person is privileged in having experienced excess suffering, which should
have vivified the insight in the futility of affirming life. At the threshold of
entering a totally new mode of being, the suicidal person falls back into the
affirmation of the will to life. The ascetic human being, however, takes a step
beyond affirming life.
Section 4: Ascetics
Schopenhauer makes it unmistakably clear that happiness is not a viable
aspiration for human beings, but neither is it the proper goal for human
beings. In other words, not only does Schopenhauer hold that “a happy life
is impossible” (PP2 342), but also that “the purpose of our existence is not
to be happy” (WWV2 727). Schopenhauer’s arguments for this have been
explored for the most part in chapter four, but we have also pointed out
that this does not imply that humanity is doomed to constant dissatisfac-
tion. Indeed, several practices, such as compassion, religion and aesthetical
experience, can offer some recourse from suffering; they do not accom-
plish this by inducing positive happiness, but, rather, through creating the
possibility for becoming disinterested in happiness. This is but little comfort,
and these brief moments of respite notwithstanding, the ultimate fate of the
vast majority of people is perpetual suffering. Suffering comes to a halt only
in death, which Schopenhauer then cynically calls our “real purpose of life”
(WWV2 730).
A select few appropriately attuned individuals might be able to accom-
plish more. They could attain a different and seemingly higher state of being,
namely asceticism or the saintly state of nothingness. This is what Schopen-
hauer calls the ‘highest possible good’, which is accessible to only a few
exceptional individuals. In his later works, Schopenhauer does seem to sug-
gest that over the course of individual and societal development more and
more people will move away from the affirmation of the will to life and,
while initially supported by compassion, art and religion, will find peace in
the denial of the will:

(in contrast to the mere professorial or comic philosophy) that the will’s
(PP1 236)
This chapter reconstructs Schopenhauer’s account of the saint and how he or

she is characterized by complete immersion in a state of nothingness.
Section 1: Saintly (Relative) Nothingness

The saint is nothing with regard to the world, and the world is nothing to
the saint. What does it mean to be ‘nothing’, and how does one attain such
a state? Our past exploration of the figure of the ‘genius’ might be helpful
here. The saintly and ascetic nothing has, like the genius, first and foremost
a surplus of sensibility to a certain type of knowledge. While the genius has
an awareness of the Platonic ideas through rational intuition, the saint is
more directly aware of the illusory nature of the principium individuationis
and immediately perceives the in itself of reality, not just the archetypes of
the will. In the terms used in chapter two, the genius has surplus sensitivity
to immediate, representational knowledge (of the Platonic Ideas) and the
saint has surplus sensitivity to immediate, non-representational knowledge
(of reality in itself). As such, the saint is an even more exceptional individual
than the genius because she or he is capable of comprehensively and intui-
tively sensing reality in itself.
This immediate, intuitive knowledge then becomes the very force or
incentive that makes the saint disinterested in the natural affirmation of
the will to life. The awareness of the in itself silences the individual will’s
self-expression. But if all of reality is will, then whenever the self-expression
of the will in the individual is silenced, there remains only ‘nothing’. The spe-
cific content of the knowledge of the saint is, on the one hand, Schopenhau-
er’s will-driven, naturalistic and deterministic metaphysics (chapter three)
and, on the other hand, his existential philosophy of suffering (chapter four).
In a nutshell, saints use the twofold awareness of their bodies so as to assume
that the whole of reality is similar to their innermost core, namely voracious
self-expressing will. From this, it follows that all of existence is caught in a
spiral of suffering and boredom that is never substantially relieved by satis-
faction. This bit of knowledge is absorbed in such a powerful and immediate

manner that knowledge quiets down the will. Some agents are intuitively
aware of these things, and these might be called natural saints—much like
some agents are naturally prone to compassion. Others might acquire this
knowledge throughout their lives by means of abstract reflection, if this
abstract knowledge becomes so powerful that it becomes intuitive (i.e.,
exerts powerful, emotional force). This abstract reflection most powerfully
happens upon the individual when going through profound suffering. Such
cognition can then have a conative effect on the agent’s (in)action. Through
this intuitive knowledge, the saint loses interest in the will and is therefore
no longer responsive to individual desires or the general pursuit of happi-
ness. Knowledge has not merely silenced all particular desires, but destroyed
the root of desire.
Most of Schopenhauer’s reflections on the persona of the saint likely
stem from historical surveys and accounts in religious texts. This means
that Schopenhauer did not abstractly conceive of the saintly nothing and
afterwards look for corroborating examples in reality, but he describes the
metaphysical necessary preconditions to account for the odd and unnatural
behavior of the saint. The possibility of becoming a ‘nothing’ is a given for
Schopenhauer, which his philosophy then tries to explain. One consequence
of this is that Schopenhauer is not trying to coax us into becoming saints,
especially since his point of view is that the complete abnegation of the
will is something that befalls agents rather than something that is actively
pursued. This would amount to an utterly non-normative sense of a highest
good. Some people happen to be better than others. This observation is not
to be pushed to extremes, since there does remain some, rather ambiguous,
sense of normativity in Schopenhauer’s highest good. In order to under-
stand this normativity, one first has to account for the unnatural behavior
of the saint.
Schopenhauer rejects all (moral) oughts when it comes to willing: what
one wills and consequently does is not morally relevant, since it is the con-
sequence of efficient causality and cannot be altered. This holds equally
for the egoist and the compassionate person, but also the genius and the
commoner, and the saint and the hedonist. All of their agency is at all times
and univocally subject to natural determinism. There is no separate theory
of action for saints. If this is true, then it also means that the compassionate
person, the genius and also the saint have something happening to them
that overrides the self-affirmation of the will to life. This something must
necessarily have emotional or conative force, which is the abovementioned
intuitive insight into reality in itself. The compassionate person, the genius
and especially the saint have more insight than the egoist, commoner and
hedonist.
Given the excess insight in these, one could explain how there remains a
sense of normativity in Schopenhauer’s highest good. It seems fairly straight-
forward to say that it is better for an agent to be informed by truthful propo-
sitions about reality. Not many philosophers have ever contested the value of
truthfulness (with the highly complex exception of Nietzsche). This means
that even Schopenhauer holds that to be well informed and knowledgeable
is better than to be delusional and ignorant. Knowledge is good in itself
because it has soteriological potential. Human beings would then do well to
pursue knowledge. Truth is not weighed in accordance with its usefulness
or potential for happiness. Most people would gladly suffer profoundly for
the truth. While Schopenhauer is opposed to ethical theories focused on
moral character training or ethical counseling, he does seem agreeable with
regard to education and learning. This might introduce new bits of abstract
knowledge that can exert an effect on the agent’s will. When this knowledge
builds up to an exceptional extent, it can overtake the agent so that the will
itself is abolished and, from the perspective of representational reality, the
agent is turned into a nothing.
Knowledge becomes for the saint the non-volitional motive that numbs
the will to life to sleep. There is a parallel here with Kant’s practical philos-
ophy that can be illuminating but misleading at the same time. According
to Kant, human beings have natural and rational interests. There are bodily
inclinations (Neigungen) and rational interests that equally exert an effect
over the power of choice. The human agent is morally obligated to enter-
tain a proper hierarchy between these, which means that rational interests
should always be prioritized over inclinations. Human beings are not prone
to respecting this moral world order, since they have a tendency to level the
playing field between inclinations and rational interests by acting upon the
strongest of these, rather than giving categorical preference to rationality.
Schopenhauer suggests that this leveled playing field is actually the normal
condition for humanity, which implies that human agents are exposed to
motives stemming from both their bodily needs and their rational consid-
erations. Most of the time, even rational considerations are an extension
of the will to life. Nevertheless, knowledge can become ‘practical’ in that
it guides agency away from the natural affirmation of the will to life. So
while Schopenhauer does still entertain the Kantian distinction between nat-
ural and pure rational interests, he reinterprets these naturalistically and
eschews the ontological dualism between nature and rationality. When the
pure rational interests take the lead, however, Schopenhauer believes (like
Kant) that the agent achieves something higher than his or her natural state.
For Kant, this means that the agent is a moral, rational being with respect
for virtue as its motivation; for Schopenhauer, this implies that the agent is
turned into a nothing.
In that self-destruction of the will, there emerges something that even
fervent apologists for Schopenhauer feel is difficult to defend: if everything
is will, and knowledge destroys the will in the saint, then the saint is not, or,
becomes a ‘nothing’ relative to all that exists. What exactly, if anything, is
a nothing? What would make being nothing so great? If saints have existed
at some point, how are they nothing? The confounding nature of ‘nothing’
can then prove to be a difficult but possibly edifying subject for interpreting
Schopenhauer’s philosophy. It would be helpful to turn first to Schopenhau-
er’s prime source of inspiration, namely Kant’s concept of nothing, to clarify
what Schopenhauer means by ‘nothing’. At the end of the Transcendental
Analytic, Kant introduces the ‘Table of Nothing’, where he provides a four-
fold way of thinking about relating the predicate ‘nothing’ to an ‘object in
general’, namely by quantity, quality, relation and modality (B 346–349 /
A 290–292). ‘Nothing’ is then being consistently thought of as the negation
of these concepts. First, the negation of a quantity is the concept of none, i.e.,
a concept without an object that corresponds to it; second, the negation of a
quality is the privation of a certain quality, e.g., a shadow is the privation of
light; third, the negation of a relationship is the mere form of an intuition,
e.g., pure time or space; fourth, the negation of modality is the concept of
something that is impossible, e.g., a square circle. What is then obviously
common to Kant’s fourfold sense of nothingness (none, privation, imaginary
and impossibility) is that these are not self-subsisting qualities, but exist
merely as potential thought-entities by virtue of the denial of something
else. The nothing is then not something in itself—an avenue explored by
Heidegger and Sartre—but the privation of something else. As a first step,
Schopenhauer’s concept of nothing should then be read in this light, particu-
larly because Schopenhauer himself signals the relative nature of the nothing
and acclaims Kant’s views (WWV1 484).
This is the necessary first step in understanding Schopenhauer’s concept
of nothing, i.e., as the denial of something or, better, as the denial of the
thing: “Every nothing is nothing only in relation to something else and pre-
supposes this relation, and thus presupposes the ‘something else’ ” (WWV1
484). In this specific context, ‘something’ or ‘thing’ means representational
reality governed by the principle of sufficient reason and the will to life. The
‘nothing’ then signals the complete denial of the will to life and the principle
of sufficient reason. But the relative nature of the nothing allows for the saint
to be something else than a mere nothing from a perspective that does not
belong to representational reality. In fact, only from the perspective of rep-
resentational reality does the saint “transition into empty nothing” (WWV1
483). Schopenhauer accordingly allows for there to be a different side to
the coin that merits equal consideration, but he remains relatively agnostic
about this aspect of his philosophy. One reason for this could be that he is
running up against the limits of propositional and philosophical language.
In other words, the positive content of denial of the will cannot be described
by means of philosophical language. Raymond Marcin gives voice to this
point of view as follows:
Schopenhauer has indeed left Western philosophical concepts far behind.

Up until now, he has been expressing himself as a philosopher, using the
vocabulary and the methodology of philosophy. But how to describe a
non-abstract nonreasoned-to kind of knowledge in the vocabulary and
methodology of philosophy? Here Schopenhauer calls upon myth and

symbol.23
True, Schopenhauer does seek recourse in mythological and religious lan-

guage to provide positive cognition of this saintly state of nothingness—
using terms such as “ecstasy, rapture, enlightenment, unity with God”
(WWV1 483), but this does not mean that there is religion at the highpoint
of Schopenhauer’s philosophy. Schopenhauer’s position is in fact close to
Kant’s First Critique. At one point, Kant describes the First Critique as a
self-critique of reason rather than a hetero-critique: “For pure speculative
reason has this peculiarity about it, that it can and should measure its own
capacity” (B xxiii). For Kant, this means that reason itself limits its domain
and reach. In a hetero-critique of the reach of reason, there is something else
(such as religion and faith) that limits the potential of philosophical lan-
guage. Schopenhauer has similarly shown why one cannot speak rationally
about the ‘nothing’, namely because it lies beyond the principle of sufficient
reason.
Despite these Kantian cautions, Schopenhauer is not content with a
merely negative result of his investigation and wonders whether the nothing
cannot be approached differently. Similarly, as the in itself of reality cannot
be known propositionally but must be felt immediately, the saintly nothing
can only be experienced and not described philosophically. Therefore, any
abstract term to describe the saintly nothing will remain barren and unin-
formative for those who have not lived through the experience. At times,
Schopenhauer does divulge some extra information about this saintly state
but remains trapped within purely negative descriptions: “Neither exposed
to attack from outside nor requiring assistance from outside; therefore
something that ‘always is in like manner’, in eternal rest, ‘neither becoming
nor passing away’, without change, without time, without multiplicity and
diversity” (PP2 303). What does become clear from all of this is that the
‘nothing’ is an irrational state of being, since rationality is valid only for rep-
resentational reality, a rationality that has ceased to be in ascetic self-denial.
For something to conflict with rationality is, for Schopenhauer, not an argu-
ment against it; moreover, this might be a sign that the highest good is a state
of being very much in tune with the in itself of reality. Schopenhauer is not
Hegel: not only the rational is real (and the real rational) but the irrational
is, to Schopenhauer, more real and foundational than the rational.
Through realizing that the nothing is not the absolute and complete
destruction of everything, a certain indictment against Schopenhauer’s phi-
losophy can be resolved. Schopenhauer’s formulation of the highest good as
the “world melting away with the abolition of the will, leaving only empty
nothing before us” (WWV1 487) has given rise to a number of misunder-
standings. One of these is that the denial of the will to life involves the
effective (self-) destruction of the will, and because of this also of the world
itself! A crude version of this criticism was voiced by two military cadets,
Michael Sikic and Camillo Schramek, in a letter to Schopenhauer of August

1860 (see also: PP2 331–332). They argue that Schopenhauer’s highest good
has of yet not been effective, since the world has to date not ceased to exist.
If the ascetic denial of the will ‘destroys the world’, then it could not of yet
have occurred since the world is still here.24 This criticism is testament to
a serious misunderstanding of what is involved in the denial of the will, as
it holds that, in the denial of the will, the will is effectively destroyed. In
the state of nothingness, the particular will to life no longer conatively or
affectively determines the agency of the ascetic being. In other words, the
state of nothingness implies that the agent is radically withdrawn from the
causal determinism implied in Schopenhauer’s naturalistic worldview based
upon the quantitative strength of certain causes, stimuli and motives in the
service of the will’s affirmation. The affective destruction of the will opens
the possibility for an altogether different type of conception of agency, where
abstract cognition now provides the motive for agency. To put it rhetorically,
while the will is in the driving seat for most of humanity, it is forced to ‘ride
shotgun’ in the life of the ascetic. This is not a different sense of selfhood,
but a life freed from having to be a self or, as Schopenhauer puts it, to be a
‘pure subject’.
Section 2: The Appeal of Nothingness

Schopenhauer subscribes to the view that someone can be spurred into
action only if that action has some sort of interest for that person. For him,
this view implies that human agents will necessarily act upon the quantita-
tively strongest interest (or motive). But the saint is an individual that has
lost all interest. If Schopenhauer, on the one hand, claims that any action is
a necessary consequence of the interplay between a motive and a character
but, on the other hand, seemingly suggests that the behavior of the saint is
totally disinterested, only guided by intuitive insight, then we are left with
a rather troubling paradox. What, if anything, drives the saint? This prob-
lem does not seem to arise for the compassionate person, the artist or the
religious person, since all of these have real motivational objects that act
upon the will (i.e., the pain of the other, the piece of art and the embodied
religious symbols). The saint does seem to lack any such mediation. Does
Schopenhauer then entertain two theories of actions: one for the ‘normal’
person and another for the ‘superhuman’ saint?
The resolution of this paradox would need to go as follows. Schopenhauer
accepts that any and all human agents have an ability called ‘practical rea-
son’, which to him simply means the ability to be motivated through con-
cepts (see chapter four). These concepts are most often in service of the will
to life or, if not part of the affirmation of life, they tend to exert only minimal
force. A similar thing is to be said about ‘genius’: while all human beings
have a faculty to be in a purely intuitive state (WWV1 229), only a select few
geniuses can maintain such a state (WWV1 230). The saint is then a higher
realization of the capacities of genius, the difference here being quantitative,

rather than qualitative. While all human beings potentially find guidance in
abstracts concepts, only the saint has the proper attunement to be guided
by cognition alone because that cognition exerts sufficient strength. Ascetic
saints, in other words, do not require anything more than mere insight to
have their will quieted. Normal people are one-third intellect and two-thirds
will; geniuses are two-thirds intellect and one-third will; saints are three-
thirds intellect (or something very close to this). This means that the saint is
an individual that is governed by intellect alone, or a ‘pure subject’ guided by
intellectual, non-volitional agency. Saintly nothingness is then only a ‘noth-
ing’ relative to will, and this in no way cancels out the intellect as a motor
for agency.
One way to clarify this topic further is to link the denial of the will to
certain strands of (Christian) mysticism and negative theology. The kinship
between Schopenhauer and the latter can already be gathered from the fre-
quent applauding of the Vedantic Upanishads and Schopenhauer’s consistent
invocation of a certain group of Christian theologians, such as Saint Augus-
tine and Luther (WWV1 480–482), Meister Eckhart (WWV1 450), Saint
Francis of Assisi (WWV1 454) and Johannes Tauler (WWV1 458). What
unites these highly diverse religions and philosophers is that they, in their
own way, practiced a form of negative theology that did not end up in deny-
ing any and all possible knowledge of God. In this respect, it is important to
remember, as Jozef Wissink helpfully clarifies, the two types of negative the-
ology. Negative theology can suggest, on the one hand, that God is too tran-
scendent for human understanding and can be characterized only negatively
as what He is not or, on the other hand, that God is beyond propositional
logic and discursive philosophical language, but can be known via other tools
such as faith.25 This second strand of negative theology enlists the boons of
the via negativa in the service of a more comprehensive affirmative project:
through locating the reasons for the failure of a certain discourse about God,
they justify an altogether different approach. For the Christian theologians
mentioned above, this meant that faith and revelation have the capacity to
acquaint the human being with God in a way impossible for speculative or
rational theology. While obviously such things as faith and revelation are
not the preferred tools for Schopenhauer to have his philosophical ascet-
ics informed, there clearly is a structural parallel. Schopenhauer similarly
invalidates a certain discourse about will-lessness and nothingness, namely
discursive logic, in order to make room for a non-discursive approach
beyond the limits of ordinary language. This implies that the self-negating
of the will in Schopenhauer’s asceticism is not a full-out destruction of all
potential soteriology, but actually implies merely the clearing of the way of
certain obstacles (the will) in order to allow for a different state of being.26
Günter Zöller points towards something very similar:
In addition to arguing for the dependence of the world as representation

on the self qua intellect and the embeddedness of the self qua will in the
world as will, Schopenhauer seeks to demonstrate the potential for an
altogether different form of selfhood, one that would disengage the self
qua intellect from the subservience to the will, including the self’s own
will.27
What can then be said (positively) about that state of saintly nothing-
ness? First, we might say something about the relationship of the saint to
suffering. The saint is privy to a bit of intuitive cognition, which allows
him to realize the futility of affirming the will and the mystical unity of all
of reality. The evolution he then undergoes from a willing to a non-willing
being happens gradually when, steadily, “the will begins turning away from
life” and knowledge becomes the “tranquilizer” of the will (WWV1 448).
Empirical signs of saintliness are poverty, lack of sexual desire, a tendency to
self-starvation and in some cases even self-flagellation (e.g., PP2 339–340).
Normal people aspire to wealth, sexual interaction, food and the avoidance
of suffering, and the impoverished state of the saint would be, if normal
people find themselves in it, a serious source of disquiet and suffering. Does
the saint then actively pursue those things that normal people avoid? The
answer to this question is ambiguous. The saint does not aspire to poverty
and lack but naturally finds himself in that situation because this is the
natural state for all beings. If human beings are not spurred into action by
their will, they are without wealth, sexual interaction or food. But since the
saint is no longer moved by the will, he will not feel the impetus to try and
avoid this condition. The saint does not seem to seek out poverty and lack,
but naturally finds himself in that state. But this analysis is overly simplistic,
since most saints might seek out certain forms of suffering. Saints are, in
Schopenhauer’s view, often actively seeking out pain (most often through
self-castigation or self-flagellation) because they are aware that the peace-
fulness of nothingness might clear way for the will to life to re-emerge. The
insights that happened upon them that opened the way for the denial of the
will can become complacent, and the will to life might re-emerge. Schopen-
hauer writes about this: “Cognition of the nature of this existence [. . .] can
nonetheless recede again with whatever occasioned its arrival, and the will
to life can re-emerge together with the previous character” (WWV1 467).28
This means that saints remain human beings that are prone to change,
and they are not unmoved or mechanical will-less slaves. Because of this
consideration, Schopenhauer is convinced that the Stoic sage is not a proper
model for understanding saintliness. This is so because the Stoic sage is usu-
ally depicted as someone utterly beyond the capacity for pain and suffering.
Such a being appears no longer ‘human’, and is even difficult to imagine, let
alone to associate with:
[The Stoic sage] remains stiff and wooden, a mannequin that no one
can engage with and who does not himself know what to do with his
own wisdom. His perfect composure, peace and bliss really contradict
the essence of humanity, so that we are unable to form any intuitive
representation of him.
(WWV1 109)
As an alternative, Schopenhauer is very appreciative of the depiction of the

saintly person in Hindu and Christian religion. These are not depicted as
if they are beyond suffering, but as gladly enduring suffering with a serene
peacefulness about them:
How completely different they seem, next to the Stoic sage, those who
the wisdom of India sets before us and has actually brought forth, those
voluntary penitents who overcome the world; or even the Christian
savior, that splendid figure, full of the depths of life, of the greatest
poetical truth and highest significance, but who, in perfect virtue, holi-
ness and sublimity, nevertheless stands before us in a state of the utmost
suffering.
(WWV1 109)
Schopenhauer might, on this occasion, have been considering the vast

amount of Christian or Christian-inspired artworks that represent serenity
in the face of profound suffering (for instance, the Crucifixion). The example
that Schopenhauer provides on one occasion is, however, of Pagan origin,
namely the face of Laocoon. In the famous sculpture now residing in the
Vatican Museum, this highly unfortunate Trojan retains an expression of
serenity in the midst of his country being ravaged by the Greeks and his
sons being devoured by snakes (WWV1 267–270). The mind is kept awake
to the horrors of affirming life if one intentionally surrounds oneself with
profound suffering; this is one way to maintain the vivacity of the intuitive
cognition that induces the will to abolish itself. While outwardly the saint
might appear to be a contorted and unnatural creature, there is an utter
tranquility and peace going on in the inside.
The relationship the saint enjoys with the will is a second way we might
further understand the state of saintly nothingness. Schopenhauer is quite
clear that the saint does not ‘master’ or ‘train’ the will, but he has radically
overcome any relationship to the will. This is revolution, not reform. The
inspiration for thinking about the highest good in this way likely derives
from Immanuel Kant, and not from the British empiricists. In most of his
published philosophy,29 Kant did not seek out a prudential way to train,
caution or model the inclinations to a certain purpose (like the empiricists),
but instead emphasized the need for a radical moral check: self-love must
take a backseat when morality is involved. Kant’s rigorous emphasis of this
is indebted to his view that “the human being is by nature evil” (RGV 32).
If human nature is evil to its roots, it is to be abandoned and rebuilt from
the ground up rather than merely appropriately developed. Schopenhauer
seems to share Kant’s suspicion with regard to human nature, since he does
not aspire to incorporate nature in a higher system of universal desirable-
ness, but completely and utterly abandons all nature: “We therefore need a
complete transformation of our disposition and essence, i.e., a rebirth, as a
consequence of which redemption occurs” (WWV2 691), or a “complete
abolition of the character” (WWV1 477).
This means that an individual like St. Francis of Assisi is more estimable
than a Caesar or a Napoleon because the former realizes the futility of the
exploits of the latter: “The most important and most significant appearance
that the world can show us is not someone who conquers the world, but
rather someone who overcomes it” (WWV1 456). The progress of human-
ity benefits more from one saint than from a hundred victorious warlords.
But how is the saint a benefit to humanity? Is he a moral educator or a
model to emulate? Schopenhauer clearly does not believe that saints pro-
vide moral instruction or even function as a moral example: “Example, like
instruction, can promote a civil or legal improvement, it cannot promote
an inner one, which is really moral” (PP2 254). Moral examples, no matter
how estimable, necessarily refer to the will to life, in that they might serve
as a motive to incline or disincline from a certain course of action. This
means that education and instruction are always conditional and therefore
removed from the unconditional self-abolishment of the will. The peda-
gogic potential of the saint consists, instead, in providing and vivifying a
bit of knowledge that works so as to make the individual ignore or even
loathe his desires. The saint is then a vivid epiphany of the denial of the will
to life: the saint teaches us not to fight desire with desire, but instead allows
us to recognize that we ought to ignore desire until it withers away. What
is ironic is that Schopenhauer proposes a way to deal with the will to life
that is highly similar to how German universities and scholars dealt with his
philosophy. Instead of acknowledging Schopenhauer’s claim to philosoph-
ical novelty (such as by trying to disprove his arguments), he was virtually
completely ignored.
The difference between the affirmation and the negation of the will to
life is radical; negation is an altogether different form of selfhood that can-
not possibly be understood from the side of the affirmation. But this also
explains why we cannot provide any positive characterization of the ‘noth-
ing’. The saintly state is not in extension of the natural mode of opera-
tion, but is for all intents and purposes an artificial and supernatural (or
counter-natural) state of being. If things on one side are radically different
from how they are on the other side, the ways of understanding the one
side can be of no benefit to the other side. The final question, then, to be
addressed with regard to the saintly nothing concerns its appeal. Namely,
what can possibly render ‘nothing’ attractive if it in no way relates to our
present state? What buoys the desire (if it is a desire at all) for human agents
to undertake the pernicious venture to the other side? How does nature pro-
vide the resources to attain this highest state? If human beings are basically
natural beings completely made up of the will to life, how can something
emerge that is denial of the will to life? The only way this could happen is,
in a manner of speaking, if agents caught in the affirmation of life somehow
receive a whisper from the beyond. By this, it is meant that they receive a hint
that their true purpose might lie elsewhere. They courageously travel into
the unknown with nothing but a promissory note in hand that true peace
of mind is to be attained. Some might have seen this arising partially and
episodically in compassionate people and geniuses, and the saint is a sure
sign that there is something to be gained. What this is exactly can only be
felt and not narrated or edified. Schopenhauer admits that philosophy must
take up a negative form at the end of its exploits: “My teaching [. . .] assumes
a negative character, hence ends with a negation. Namely, it can only speak
here of what is denied, surrendered; but what is gained, gotten hold of in
its place, it is forced [. . .] to characterize as nothingness” (WWV2 700). To
comprehend this state of nothingness would imply applying the principle of
explanation upon something that is by its very nature beyond that principle.
Schopenhauer thus cannot provide any positive explanation for the denial of
the will, but can at best comprehend its incomprehensibility.
All of the above being true, there is nevertheless one snippet of informa-
tion about the saint (but it does not tell us much). The saint is completely
and utterly free from determination by the affirmation of the will to life. This
means that, quite literally, the saint is pure freedom. But while traditionally
this suggestion might be highly informative, in Schopenhauer’s philosophy
this is fairly uninformative. In most traditional accounts of autonomy, the
end-goal of autonomy is usually some sort of positive state that allows a
unique and desirable relationship to being. Autonomy then gives new mean-
ing to existence. For instance, Kant’s view of autonomy was that autonomy
does not solely concern the freedom from immediate determination through
certain interests but also the freedom to rational self-determination. Despite
the Kantian foundation of Schopenhauer’s philosophy, he radically aban-
dons the latter part of Kant’s argument by pointing out that the highest
freedom that can be achieved is to resign from participating in the circuitry
of existence, and not to give new meaning to existence. Schopenhauer is
aware that this is but a meager harvest and nothing like the highest goods
of Plato or Kant (WWV1 483–484). The highest does not give meaning
to meaningless existence but is just the state in which we no longer seek
meaning. While this might appear rather disappointing, there is a twofold
consolation. First, the human being turns into a nothing, but this is not an
absolute nothing but, rather, a relative nothing. The saint is a nothing only
compared to existence, not from all possible perspectives. In a Schopenhaue-
rian spirit, we might say that, from a more absolute point of view (sub specie
aeternatis), the saint is the summum of existence in becoming this nothing.
Second, in becoming this nothing, the saint attains an equivocal form of
freedom that, in its turn, leads to an equivocal form of happiness—according
to Schopenhauer’s family motto, “without liberty there can be no happi-
ness”.30 As freed from the shackles of existence, the saint is constantly in a

suffering-free state that is only momentarily experienced by normal beings
when they find all their desires momentarily met: “For everyone who is
filled with the will, what remains after it is completely abolished is certainly
nothing. But conversely, for those in whom the will has turned and negated
itself, this world of ours which is so very real with all its suns and galaxies
is—nothing” (WWV1 487).
Section 3: Nothing, Pessimism and Salvation

The highpoint of Schopenhauer’s philosophy is the ascetic self-denial of the
saint, namely the slow but radical transition into pure freedom through
overcoming the affirmation of the will to life. While not a highest good in the
traditional sense, one can surely not say that Schopenhauer leaves us with
little more than a dreadful pessimism. Instead, his pessimism relates only to
the salvific potential of the affirmation of the will to life; one might even say
that Schopenhauer is remarkably optimistic about somehow transcending
the dreadful, natural condition of humanity.
Some commentators have engaged Schopenhauer less charitably. Numer-
ous among these have exclaimed that Schopenhauer rather bombastically
proclaims half-truths and idiosyncratically refuses to consider the uplifting
aspects of human existence. And while most of these readers do recognize
some slightly misguided optimism in actually attaining a state beyond suffer-
ing, they suggest that the ‘transition into nothing’ could only very snidely be
called a ‘highest good’. To be optimistic about the capacity to become ‘noth-
ing’ is rather depressing and many would argue that Schopenhauer’s highest
good is vacuous.31 David Cartwright formulates this objection as follows:
When someone reaches salvation, instead of obtaining some highly

enjoyable, pleasurable situation, what one obtains is some Buddhis-
tic absorption into the selflessness of oblivion. Seen in this light, what
Schopenhauer has to say about the road to salvation, the means of
travel, the number of travelers, and the final result of the trip, one finds
that this entire venture is not some happy affair.32
What I have tried to show is that there is a different way of appreciating

Schopenhauer’s pessimism. One of the first clues to this is the sublime beauty
of Schopenhauer’s dithyrambs to art, religion and even, at times, philosophy.
This inclined a rather different perspective on any alleged final pessimism
in Schopenhauer’s philosophy. In fact, numerous readers have noted a seri-
ous discrepancy between the darkness of Schopenhauer’s message and the
beauty of his writing. A few examples: “There is an all-pervading relish
in [Schopenhauer’s] writing that gives the lie to any notion of unrelieved
pessimism”;33 “Schopenhauer’s irrepressible empiricist gaiety is in tension
with his nihilistic hatred of the ordinary world”;34 even Nietzsche mused
as follows:
Schopenhauer, pessimism notwithstanding, actually—played the flute . . .

every day, after dinner. You can read it in his biography. And just out of
curiosity: a pessimist who negates both God and world but stops before
morality,—who affirms morality and plays his flute, affirms laede nemi-
nem morality: excuse me? Is this really—a pessimist?35
Indeed, there is a striking tension between the gaiety of Schopenhauer’s

writing and his pessimistic philosophy that is supposed to lead to absolute
self-denial. One potential resolution to this paradox could find recourse in
the fact that the ascetic denial of the will is possible only for a select few,
and therefore beyond the potential of Schopenhauer. He might have deemed
himself humbly unfit for the life of asceticism and could have aspired to the
best possible life within ‘the error of eudaimonism’. In his more popular
writings, he does leave this open as a possibility, namely, to navigate the
affirmation of the will to life as best as one can as “an accommodation”,
his popular work “retains the ordinary, empirical standpoint and adheres
to its error” (PP1 333–334). Taking into consideration Schopenhauer’s
quasi-megalomaniac personality, his revulsion against self-deprecation and
his ardent stubbornness in not making any accommodation when the truth
is involved, this recourse seems highly unlikely.36
A different and more plausible explanation would take this paradox to
signal that there is some positive accomplishment involved in the denial of
the will to life and that Schopenhauer is not an absolute pessimist pining
for absolute, unconditional withdrawal and disengagement. In the above
section, I have clarified, to the extent that this is possible, what is really at
stake in negation. And the preceding chapters have clarified that ‘pessimism’
relates only to the natural condition of the human agent, the world’s adap-
tation to human life and the soteriological potential of the natural abilities
of the human agent. Schopenhauer is not pessimistic about attaining the
highest state of self-denial, and various ersatz forms of this can be attained
through art and religion. There is, then, good cause to investigate what ‘self’
is being ‘denied’ or ‘abolished’ in asceticism and what higher destiny of sorts
can be attained through letting the old self die. The self that dies is the
self that is selfishly involved in a world of appearances, but there is a true
self (atman) that is a lack of the former self (an-atman) that has reached a
freedom from appearances. Asceticism saves us from ourselves so that we
can be a more authentic, universal self.
One final question about the ascetic saint: how does ascetic self-denial
relate to compassion, religion and art? Are all three but mere stages that
are passed after the ascetic state is reached? Or are these incorporated and
uplifted to a higher purpose? Schopenhauer offers an overt solution only
regarding compassion, but an answer for religion and art can be conceptual-
ized in a similar spirit. Compassion is an intermediate step towards the ascetic
state. Schopenhauer reiterates that “moral virtues are a means for promoting
self-renunciation” (WWV2 694; cf. WWV2 698). The saintly person is there-
fore bound to go through a state of virtuous compassion and loving kindness
prior to being able to reach the self-renunciation of the will. In fact, moral
virtues cultivate and enliven the knowledge that is required for this final
transformation. Accordingly, it would, rather paradoxically, stand to reason
that the saint is no longer compassionate and is not motivated to undo other
people’s suffering because of being completely withdrawn from the world.
The saint does not care anymore about any suffering. The saint is similarly
no longer in need of religion. More likely than not, every person (especially
in Schopenhauer’s age) has grown up being taught certain religious creeds.
These religious creeds often call the believer to be compassionate, and being
compassionate is a preparation for the denial of the will. However, to make
the leap from religiously inspired compassion to philosophically inspired
compassion requires a knowledge that most people will not be able to attain.
Similarly, the move from compassion to self-renunciation also requires a
new form of knowledge possible for only a select few. The saint is no longer
in need of religious imagery to fully grasp the nature of reality. Finally, the
saint does not appear to be in need of art. Art can work so as to sensuously
acquaint the spectator with the essence of existence through the Platonic
ideas. Art facilitates the knowledge that is required to make the move from
religious compassion to philosophical compassion, and from philosophical
compassion to self-renunciation. However, artistic knowledge has its lim-
itations and, by itself, is not enough to accomplish this final step. The saint
requires intuitive and philosophical knowledge that far exceeds what art
can deliver. This means that religion, compassion and art prepare the human
agent for the saintly state, but most people get stuck on the way over.
The saint attains the highest good any human being can achieve accord-
ing to Schopenhauer. This saint has first and foremost a surplus of knowl-
edge that works as a tranquilizer on her or his individual will. Given sufficient
time, this cognition is able to completely deny the will and deliver the saint
to full freedom. Interestingly, Schopenhauer’s saint is neither religious nor
compassionate (nor artistic), two qualities virtually universally attributed
to people deemed saints. Accordingly, Schopenhauer provides a secularized
form of saintliness in accordance with the basic metaphysical and epistemo-
logical premises of his philosophical system. Schopenhauer’s saint is there-
fore conceptually closer to Plato’s philosopher than to the Christian saint.
Notes
1. Janaway also voices a number of concerns whether such a will to will-lessness
is actually compatible with Schopenhauer’s metaphysics: Christopher Janaway,
‘What’s So Good about Negation of the Will? Schopenhauer and the Problem
of the Summum Bonum’. In: Journal for the History of Philosophy 54 (2016)
649–669. I am grateful for being allowed early access to this article.
2. Cf. Matthew Alun Ray, Subjectivity and Irreligion: Atheism and Agnosticism
in Kant, Schopenhauer and Nietzsche (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing, 2003),
pp. 53–56; Vandenabeele, 2001, pp. 205–210.
3. See: David Hamlyn, Schopenhauer (London: Routledge, 1980), p. 143; Bryan

Magee, The Philosophy of Arthur Schopenhauer (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1983), pp. 13–14.
4. Charles Taylor, A Secular Age (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press,
2007), p. 27.
5. Ibid., p. ix.
6. Ibid., p. 15.
7. See, among other places: William Desmond, God and the Between (Oxford:
Blackwell publishing, 2008), pp. 15–30.
8. Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus spoke Zarathustra. Edited by Adrian Del Caro and
Robert Pippin (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), p. 5, 25, 34, 41,
158, 159.
9. The similarities between Schopenhauer and Luther are interesting. Whether
there is direct influence from Luther on Schopenhauer will probably always
remain obscure. What is for certain, however, is that all of Schopenhauer’s refer-
ences to Luther express approval and that many of Schopenhauer’s philosophi-
cal positions closely resemble Lutheran theology. For discussion: Dennis Vanden
Auweele, ‘Schopenhauer’s Lutheran Pedigree’. In: Luther und die Philosophie.
Edited by Carlo Gentili and Eleonora Caramelli (Dianoia, 2017).
10. Eric Voegelin, The Collected Works of Eric Voeglin. Volume 5: Modernity with-
out Restraint. Edited Manfred Henningsen (Columbia and London: University
of Missouri Press, 2000), p. 254.
11. Dale Jacquette, ‘Schopenhauer on the Ethics of Suicide’. Continental Philosophical
Review 33 (2000) 46.
12. Ibid.
13. For instance, some of the Stoics believed that suicide could in certain extreme
situations be preferred over living a vicious or wretched life—like Cato who
refused to serve under Caesar, a tyrant. In some of the Oriental traditions, the life
of certain people was valued by means of their service to a superior. If they had
failed or disgraced their superior, suicide would be the most appropriate, some-
times the only morally permitted, code of conduct (e.g., the Japanese practice of
Hara Kiri).
14. Plato, ‘Phaedo’. In: Plato: Complete Works. Edited by John Cooper and
Translated by G.M.A. Grube (Indianapolis, IN: Hackett Publishing, 1997),
pp. 53–54 [61d–62e].
15. According to Michael Cholbi, Kant suggests three possible arguments against
suicide. The first reiterates the Platonic argument that suicide would violate
our duties towards God, which Kant elaborates upon in his Lectures on Ethics.
Obviously, this argument does not logically cohere with the speculative agnosti-
cism of the First Critique and the foundational function of autonomy for moral-
ity in the Second Critique. Secondly, Kant suggests that suicide could never be
logically construed as a ‘law of nature’ (GMS 421–422). Kant, however, never
articulates why suicide, under particular circumstances, conflicts with rational
universality. Thirdly, Kant articulates his most cogent argument against suicide
in the Metaphysics of Morals. To commit suicide would amount to an instrumen-
tal use of the dignity of the moral law in the human person where self-love and
the avoidance of suffering take precedence over the moral law (Michael Cholbi,
‘Kant and the Irrationality of Suicide’. In: History of Philosophy Quarterly 17
(2000) 159–176).
16. E.g., Jacquette, 2000, pp. 50–54; Frederik Copleston, Arthur Schopenhauer:
Philosopher of Pessimism (London: Oates and Washbourne, 1947), p. 91; Barbara
Hannan, The Riddle of the World. A Reconsideration of Schopenhauer’s Philosophy
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), p. 76n9; Hamlyn, 1980, pp. 159–161;
Julian Young, Willing and Unwilling: a Study in the Philosophy of Arthur

Schopenhauer (Boston: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers, 1987), p. 128.
17. The argument in this section has been made more elaborately elsewhere: Dennis
Vanden Auweele, ‘Schopenhauer, pessimisme en zelfmoord’. In: Tijdschrift voor
Filosofie 76 (2014) 307–330.
18. See: Rüdiger Safranski, Schopenhauer and the Wild Years of Philosophy. Translated
by Ewald Osers (Cambridge, MA.: Harvard University Press, 1990), pp. 86–89;
David Cartwright, Schopenhauer. A Biography (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2010), pp. 87–90.
19. See: Safranksi, 1987, p. 89.
20. Cartwright, 2010, pp. 88–90.
21. Magee, 1983, pp. 222–223.
22. One important exception to the ignorance involved in suicide for Schopenhauer
is the “voluntary starvation” of the saint on ascetic grounds (WWV1 474–476).
When the will to life is completely denied, the human agent can rather eas-
ily die of starvation, since s/he is bereft of a will to take in sustenance. Any
explicit desire to end his or her life is also lacking in the ascetic saint, however.
Schopenhauer’s attitude towards suicide is marked by ambivalence: neither out-
right celebration nor vehement condemnation. Schopenhauer’s more positive
attitude towards suicide, however, pops up only in his Parerga and Paralipomena,
where he does seem kinder to those who have committed suicide, and the survi-
vors (PP2 326–330). While he steadfastly holds that suicide opposes “the attain-
ment of the highest moral goal since it substitutes for the real salvation from this
world of woe and misery one that is merely apparent”, nevertheless, he refuses
to characterize suicide as a crime: “But it is still a very long way from this error
to a crime” (PP2 328).
23. Raymond Marcin, In Search of Schopenhauer’s Cat: Arthur Schopenhauer’s
Quantum-Mystical Theory of Justice (Washington: The Catholic University of
America Press, 2006), p. 109.
24. See B 503. For a more recent version of this critique: David Cartwright,
‘Schopenhauerian Optimism and an Alternative to Resignation?’ in: Schopenhauer-
Jahrbuch 67 (1985) 163n–164n. For further discussion: John Atwell, Schopenhauer
on the Character of the World. The Metaphysics of Will (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1995), pp. 165–168.
25. Josef Wissink, ‘Two forms of Negative Theology’. In: Flight of the Gods:
Philosophical Perspectives on Negative Theology. Edited by Ilse Bulhof and
Laurens Ten Kate (New York: Fordham University Press, 2000), pp. 100–120.
26. Schopenhauer borrows a lot from theology. While today the fields of philosophy
and theology are most often kept apart, their relationship was a lot more porous
in previous centuries. In fact, Schopenhauer felt that theological and philosoph-
ical insights (also law and medicine) could benefit from one another. In making
suggestions about university education, he mentions that “everyone in the first
year at university must exclusively attend lectures in the faculty of philosophy,
and not be admitted before the second year to lectures in the three upper fac-
ulties; at such time, however, two years would have to be devoted to theology,
three to law, and four to medicine” (PP2 520).
27. Günter Zöller, ‘Schopenhauer on the Self’. In: The Cambridge Companion to
Press, 1999), p. 35.
28. The possibility of a rekindling of the will provides a vital reading guide into
Schopenhauer’s assessment of the saintly state of resignation. If the will can
resurface, then the saint has not uprooted the will entirely, but has only quieted
it for a certain amount of time. This is why the saint welcomes additional (self-
willed) suffering since this keeps him/her awake to his/her plight to keep the will
silenced. Even in the will-less state of the saint, there remains a residue of will-
power that can possibly rise up again (cf. Neil Jordan, Schopenhauer’s Ethics
of Patience. Virtue, Salvation, and Value (Lewiston: The Edwin Mellen Press,
2009), p. 122 ff.).
29. In some of his lectures, Kant did introduce a prudential side to his moral phi-
losophy. In particular, his lectures on ethics and on education tend towards a
prudential approach to practical philosophy. Considering that Kant never lec-
tured on transcendental philosophy but used state-ordained textbooks (every
now and again, we do see Kant’s own thought coming up), these lectures are
to be approach carefully. For a comprehensive survey of most of Kant’s lec-
tures: Reading Kant’s Lectures. Edited by Robert Clewis (New York: Verlag de
Gruyter, 2015).
30. Cartwright, 2010, p. 6.
31. Bertrand Russell, History of Western Philosophy (London: Allen and Unwin,
1946), p. 785; Hamlyn, 1980, pp. 154–155.
32. Cartwright, 1985, p. 158.
Press, 1997), p. 260.
34. Iris Murdoch, Metaphysics as a Guide to Morals (London: Penguin Book, 1993),
p. 70.
and Judith Norman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), p. 76.
36. Julius Frauenstädt and Schopenhauer ‘enjoyed’ a great deal of correspon-
dence. Enjoyment might not be the best word since in one of their letters, dated
September 12, 1852, Schopenhauer gives notice of the fact that he maltreated
Frauenstädt, without apologizing at all. As a clarification, Schopenhauer quips
that he might “have fathomed and taught what a saint is, but I never said that I
was one” (B 282). This should, however, not be taken as a sign that Schopenhauer
was not personally convinced of the importance of saintliness or that he did not,
in some way, aspire to resignation.
Conclusion
Schopenhauer’s philosophy is deeply pessimistic with respect to even the

best of the natural abilities of any being, especially the human being. Since
all of reality is nothing but nature, anything part of that reality is dreadfully
impotent to secure a stable and lasting salvation from suffering: solace can
be found only in not-reality or non-reality, or, to put things more simply, in
the nothing. The atheism that implicitly underlies Schopenhauer’s philoso-
phy does not seem to improve the situation: there is nothing transcendent
that might benevolently come to our assistance. Those religious believers
that similarly held to a profound sense of depravity of human nature usu-
ally kept some faith in the idea that God could offer much-needed recourse.
For Schopenhauer, this option is barred, and salvation can come neither
from nature nor anything supernatural; probably, it would be better to say
that salvation, if it is to come at all, arrives in a rebellious sense of the
counter-natural.
One more look at Schopenhauer’s sense of atheism can be edifying before
formally concluding this manuscript. Theism and optimism are not logically
correlated terms; similarly, atheism and pessimism do not logically point
to one another. What is meant by this is that the denial of the existence of
God, and of such things as effective grace and salvation, does not necessarily
entail that human life is lacking in meaning. And neither does the denial of
God imply that the highest goal of human achievement translates into the
hope and aspiration to become a ‘relative nothing’ by abandoning any and
all natural aspirations of the human agent. The general rejection of religious
revelation and a benevolent God cannot in itself explain why Schopenhauer
is so markedly pessimistic about human abilities. Nietzsche would say that
Schopenhauer had abandoned the cure for the sickness that Christianity
preached, but retained belief in the idea that human beings are sick and
sinful:
It was Christianity which first painted the devil on the world’s wall; it
was Christianity which first brought sin into the world. Belief in the cure
which it offered has now been shaken to its deepest roots: but belief in
the sickness which it taught and propagated continues to exist.1
Conclusion 223
Nietzsche was right to point out that Schopenhauer’s pessimism cannot be
justified by his implicit atheism alone. Rather, this pessimism derives from
the radical distance he postulates between nature and the good. Given his
naturalistic and atheist premises, Schopenhauer heightens a fairly specific
sense of pessimism that was already lurking in Kant’s philosophy. For Kant,
there was no execution of the natural abilities of the human agent that would
navigate towards goodness; at best, some natural tools could be conducive
to a good will, but they were never good in themselves. This basically implies
that guidance towards the good may not come from nature or God in Kant’s
philosophy, but from reason. It stands to reason, then, when Schopenhauer
dethrones reason as the essential identity of reality (reason being subservient
to the will), the human agent receives principally no guidance at all. Fun-
damentally at a loss, human beings must then draw out their own way in a
universe that proves pervasively obstructive to human designs. This feeling
of waywardness in a godless landscape is captured eloquently by Nietzsche
in the paragraph immediately preceding his famous allegory of the ‘mad
man’ (der tolle Mensch):
We have forsaken the land and gone to sea! We have destroyed the
bridge behind us—more so, we have demolished the land behind us!
Now, little ship, look out! Beside you is the ocean, it is true, it does not
always roar, and at times it lies there like silk and gold and dreams of
goodness. But there will be hours when you realize that it is infinite and
that there is nothing more awesome than infinity. Oh, the poor bird that
has felt free and now strikes against the walls of this cage! Woe, when
homesickness for the land overcomes you, as if there had been more
freedom there—and there is no more ‘land’!2
When human beings find themselves confronted with the opaqueness of

existence and the weakness of human ability, they ought to seek, accord-
ing to Nietzsche at least, new ideals so as to recover value in existence.
What Schopenhauer had intimately understood, according to Nietzsche,
was that one could no longer find such value in nature or transcendence as
such. But Schopenhauer then ultimately—pace Nietzsche—conceived of the
highest value in terms of a freedom from nature. While for Kant autonomy
implied freedom from counter-moral sensuous inclinations and the positive,
rational self-legislation of the universal moral law, Schopenhauer recognized
that even rationality is an expression of ‘depraved nature’ and ought to be
forsaken. True freedom means freedom from everything, even rationality
and even ourselves.
Schopenhauer is clearly not a straightforward atheist in the way this term
is usually used today, and therefore any univocal declaration of Schopen-
hauer as such tends to be somewhat nonchalant. Schopenhauer is clearly
atheistic in overtly reject theism in whatever form (even deism and panthe-
ism) and in rejecting the literal veracity of most religious doctrines. He is
224 Conclusion
not atheistic in realizing that certain religious doctrines and practices can be
a proper preparation for an ascetic lifestyle. He consequently does not out
of hand reject all of religion in a way many of the militant French atheists
of the 18th century tended to do (and some of the more venomous of the
21st-century ‘New Atheists’). In fact, Schopenhauer believes religion to be
indispensable for the masses. Next to this paternalistic recognition of the
need for guidance for the masses, Schopenhauer’s philosophical system is
not anti-religious in terms of being saturated by notions that clearly derive
from a religious, even Christian, background: original sin, asceticism, saint-

liness, compassion, self-renunciation, etc. And even more strikingly, there
are significant functional parallels between Schopenhauer’s philosophy and
various religions in their approach to human soteriology—something that
Schopenhauer explains as glimpses of metaphysical insight in these religions.
For instance, Schopenhauer himself structurally parallels his philosophical
ethics to Protestant soteriology: “Genuine virtue and holiness of mind do not
arise from deliberate free choice (works) but rather from cognition (faith)”
(WWV1 482). By linking deliberate free choice with works and cognition
with faith, Schopenhauer allies himself with the Protestant emphasis on a
‘radical rebirth’, rather than subscribing to natural or prudential agency that
could lead towards redemption.3 Accordingly, Schopenhauer’s philosophy
is certainly sensitive to religious themes and could rightfully be read as a
form of religious soteriology, with the one vital nuance that there would be
no benevolent and personal divine: Schopenhauer’s philosophy is Protestant
Christianity without Christ, God or grace.
Kant’s strategy in dealing with religion was to call it ‘clothing’ for the
otherwise ‘naked’ message of rational religion. This rational religion was
the universal structure of authentic historical religion to which morality
rationally extends itself. A historical faith that is appropriately attuned to
rational religion will provide certain tools for the human agent to be well
equipped in the moral struggle. This means that authentic religious faith
remains within the confines of practical reason and repeats, by use of sym-
bols, stories and allegories, that which morality has stressed of itself. To
Kant, whether or not a religion is true is no longer the primary criterion for
evaluation, which now becomes its efficacy in providing moral education.
In the Kantian configuration, religion easily becomes an enjoyable smoke-
screen that obscures the tragic nature of the moral ideal. Schopenhauer’s
dealings with religion follow the same track: he uses certain hermeneutical
tools so as to abstract from any given human practice (compassion, religion,
art, philosophy), the useful tools that facilitate moral agency. What Schopen-
hauer took from Kant was something that none of his contemporaries did,
namely that the weakness of the moral law and the human need for meta-
physics and religion were clear signs that rationality in itself cannot be the
guide for human agency. To Schopenhauer, the weakness of rationality to
persuade human beings is testament to its overall weakness. Instead of a
rational ideal, Schopenhauer proposes a negative highest ideal, namely to
Conclusion 225
be free from suffering. The indifference of human nature towards moral
goodness was a prominent theme in Kant’s philosophy, but this becomes,
as I called it, metaphysicalized in Schopenhauer’s philosophy: reality is an
amoral and an impersonal absolute, whose only interest is constant and
voracious self-expression. As such, the in itself of reality is infinitely removed
from human salvation, since it is human nature (will to life) itself that mires
the agent in suffering. To remove oneself from this lamentable state, human
agents must turn to means outside of their nature and hope that these will
assist in silencing the will. A radical break with what is given and a nega-
tion of that which is past, present and future are the only means by which
humanity might reach the highest, namely to be ‘nothing’.
While Kant and Schopenhauer do seem to have employed respective her-
meneutical strategies that put religion on a philosophical path towards sec-
ularization, they themselves seem to have taken their intuitive guidance in
thinking about the relationship between nature and the good from a certain
perspective on the interplay between nature and grace germane to Protestant
Christianity, Gnosticism and Nominalism. The most important element in
these is the complete and utter deprivation of (human) nature of any sote-
riological potential. From a Kantian point of view, this leads to a situation
that is dire, but not disastrous, namely, that as long as reason is able to
postulate the necessary elements to architectonically close the moral system,
the human agent is allowed the necessary rational projections and postula-
tions that facilitate the pursuit of virtuous morality through the intricacies
of ‘rational hope’. Accordingly, it might very well be that Schopenhauer is an
atheist to a higher degree than Kant: not only does he disavow faith in provi-
dence, he similarly renounces faith in reason. After Kant dethroned God and
rational theology, Schopenhauer dethrones rationality. Peter Dews notes this
eloquently: “[Schopenhauer] is not just an atheist; he also rejects Idealism’s
surrogates for God, such as a world-structuring and history-guiding rea-
son. Humankind is not advancing towards a freer, happier condition”.4 The
reason why Schopenhauer dislodges the appeal of reason is that he meta-
physicalizes Kant’s diremption (internal rupture/Entzweiung) in the human
being between nature and the good to an ontological premise that renders
rationality just one of a vast array of different manifestations of the will, all
part of depraved nature. Reason is dethroned and can no longer cogently
and truthfully close the system with whatever is necessary. Schopenhauer
inherits the problem that came powerfully to the fore in Kant’s practical
philosophy, but he can no longer accept Kant’s solution.
According to the traditional interpretation of the relationship between
Schopenhauer’s and Kant’s philosophy, the former picks up on the distinc-
tion between the thing in itself and the phenomenon, and then amplifies
their ontological distinctness to such a level that mediation between these
two becomes impossible. By showing how human nature itself would be
rooted in the in itself, Schopenhauer is enabled to apply (whether consis-
tent with transcendental idealism or not) certain predicates to the in itself,
226 Conclusion
a subject about which Kant remained speculatively agnostic. Since every-
thing is rooted in the in itself, ‘this side’ of reality is completely determined,
perhaps even enslaved, by the ‘other side’ of reality, namely the will to life.
‘This side’ is a manifestation of the will at the ‘other side’ and at bottom
meaningless; and meaningful or rational behavior derives from meaningless
self-expression. Ironically, Schopenhauer’s epistemological dualism between
the in itself and representation ultimately results in the far-going homoge-
nization of reality to the extent that meaninglessness must become the most
authentic characteristic of all of reality. Such meaninglessness deliberately

opposes any recourse that could deliver humanity from nature; nature
itself being trapped, and the human being with it, in depravity. But if all
of nature turns out to be nothing but depravity, the moralistic tone of this
predicate is out of place: ‘depravity’ conceptually makes sense only if it can
be contrasted with some ‘good’. Accordingly, Schopenhauer acknowledges
that moralistic language (in the traditional sense) no longer has a distinctive
locus in his philosophy. The only normative criterion that could hold any
sway over Schopenhauer’s philosophy is truthfulness: the truest measure of
any philosophy/human being is the amount of truth it or s/he espouses. So
Schopenhauer’s Philalethes solemnly proclaims the following
In the eyes of the friends of truth, every fraud remains reprehensible,

however pies it may be. Lies and deceit would make for a strange means
of virtue indeed. The banner to which I have sworn is truth; everywhere
I will remain true to it and fight for light and truth, regardless of the
outcome. If I were to see religion in the ranks of the enemy, then I
would. . . .
(PP2 362)
Schopenhauer’s solution to the problem of suffering is trapped within a

framework that seems to render all solutions deeply problematic. This frame-
work is a meaningless and God-forsaken sense of reality that would make
his ‘highest good’, i.e., the denial of the will, very much like Edvard Munch’s
famous painting ‘Scream’. This painting as a whole is a scream of agony,
but with a distinctly tragic undertone: obviously and ironically, a painting
literally cannot scream. This means that the scream is itself trapped with a
general framework (the medium of the painting) that renders its operation
moot. The same thing seems to hold for Schopenhauer: the recourse that is
the denial of the will—the supposedly highest possible achievement of human
intellect—is trapped within a pessimistic framework that reduces the poten-
tial angelic blare of trumpets usually associated with a highest good to a deaf-
ening silence. The screams of agony of any knowledgeable human being that
has pierced through the veil of Maya remains trapped in the very lamentable
space from which it seeks refuge. The denial of the will does not rise above
nature, but is like a nightmare that always starts from the beginning at the
very moment one realizes that one is dreaming. Brief moments of relief easily
Conclusion 227
give way to a resurgence of the will to life: eternal recurrence of always the
same miserable lot. What is worse, there is nothing transcendent to the lam-
entable landscape that could offer a guiding hand. This is what some like Sla-
voj Žižek identify as the potentially pervert truth in Christianity: Jesus came,
suffered, died, and nothing changed. There was no relief at the cross. And like
Jesus, we seem to be stuck waiting for a salvation that will never come. To use
an image of Milan Kundera when reflecting on Nietzsche’s thought of eternal
recurrence, “if every second of our lives recurs an infinite number of times, we
are nailed to eternity as Jesus Christ was nailed to the cross”.5 We are nailed
to a meaningless universe like Christ was nailed to the cross, crying in agony
for a salvation that will never come.
We must assume that salvation can come only from ourselves (which
makes this term sound odd, to say the least) and perhaps in our generosity
as the knowledgeable ones we might be able to save less fortunate others by
bestowing unto them the philosophical knowledge (in certain ersatz forms)
that might afford some salvation. At least we can count upon ourselves
as well as upon the uplifting potential in humanity. Or can we? Reality as
such is not the only thing that opposes human achievement. If this were
Schopenhauer’s point, he would not have been so revolutionary. One of his
keenest psychological insights is that human beings themselves oppose their
very salvation: not only do we find ourselves in a universe hostile towards
us, we too are hostile to ourselves. Human beings are univocally part of the
commanding principle of all of reality that renders their existence miserable.
What then? Well, if we cannot rise above our nature, we must rise against it.
Ultimately, the only recourse is a self-activating sense of dissent from nature,
which is not fueled by the goal to which it aspires, but from disgust at the
reality from which it recoils. One finds this exemplified in Schopenhauer’s
incessant emphasis on the need for a radical revolution that completely rear-
ranges humanity. Where does this revolution lead us? Schopenhauer does
not say. From where does this revolution lead us away? Away from misery,
pain and boredom. This makes Schopenhauer’s sense of rebellion cynical,
almost even snide: we ought to distance ourselves from reality and from
ourselves to such an extent that there is no reality or self to which to relate.
Obviously, such a solution invites pessimism from a variety of angles: while
it is no mean feat to attain such salvation (requiring intellect, fortitude and
good fortune), but even in accomplishing this, one (un)willingly relegates
oneself into a nothing. This seems very much like a philosophical defeatism
with regard to the highest good: one ought not to find a new highest good
in life, but one ought to dwindle away into a nothing.
If this is really the final conclusion of Schopenhauer’s philosophy, then this
profound perspective on reality is in dire need of an appendix. Are there no
other ways of navigating and fruitfully deploying the energies of pessimism?
Is suffering really such a powerful argument against living? Personally, I
would say that the truest measure of value of something for someone is not
how much pleasure or happiness could be procured from that something,
228 Conclusion
but how much for it one is willing to suffer. A thorough exploration of
Nietzsche’s philosophy (but also Schelling’s) would then probably be the
next logical step in understanding the organic development of that profound
Kantian insight that was further explored by Schopenhauer, namely, pessi-
mism. But that is a subject matter for a different occasion.
Notes
1. Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human. Edited by R.J. Hollingdale and
Robert Schacht (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), p. 329 [78].
2. Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science. Edited by Bernard Williams (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2001), p. 119 [124].
3. Raymond Marcin similarly noticed the striking structural similarities between
Luther’s soteriology and Schopenhauer’s denial of the will: “The role that the
moral law in the context of self-knowledge occupied in Luther’s thought was
occupied by correction of cognition in Schopenhauer’s [. . .] For Luther, this ulti-
mate ‘work of freedom’ is salvation by grace through faith. For Schopenhauer, it
is, [. . .] the denial of the will to live. For both, it amounts to surrender to (or a
leap of faith in) a transcendence” (Raymond Marcin, In Search of Schopenhauer’s
Cat. Arthur Schopenhauer’s Quantum-Mystical Theory of Justice (Washington:
The Catholic University of America Press, 2006), p. 146).
4. Peter Dews, The Idea of Evil (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2013), p. 125.
5. Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Translated by Michael Heim
(London: Harper and Row, 1984), p. 4.
Bibliography
Primary Works
Kant, Immanuel, Gesammelte Schriften. Edited by Bd. 1–22 Preussische Akademie
der Wissenschaften, Bd. 23 Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin, ab
Bd. 24 Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen (Berlin: Verlag Walter de Gruy-
ter, 1900 ff).
Kant, Immanuel, Critique of Judgment. Translated by Werner Pluhar (Indianapolis:
Hackett Publishing, 1987).
Kant, Immanuel, Practical Philosophy: The Cambridge Edition of the Works of
Immanuel Kant. Edited by Paul Guyer and Allen Wood (Cambridge: Cambridge
Kant, Immanuel, Religion and Rational Theology: The Cambridge Edition of the
Works of Immanuel Kant. Edited by Allen Wood and George di Giovanni (Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996).
Kant, Immanuel, The Critique of Pure Reason: Cambridge Edition of the Works of
Immanuel Kant. Edited by Paul Guyer and Allen Wood (Cambridge: Cambridge
Kant, Immanuel, Anthropology, History, and Education: Cambridge Edition of the
Works of Immanuel Kant. Edited by Robert Louden and Gunter Zöller (Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011).
Schopenhauer, Arthur, Sämtliche Werke in 7 Bänden. Edited by Arthur Hübscher
(Leipzig: F.A. Brockhaus, 1937).
Schopenhauer, Arthur, Gesammelte Briefe. Edited by Arthur Hübscher (Bonn: Bou-
vier Verlag Herbert Grundmann, 1978).
Schopenhauer, Arthur, The Two Fundamental Problems of Ethics. Edited by Christo-
pher Janaway (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009).
Schopenhauer, Arthur, The World as Will and Representation. Volume 1. Edited by
Judith Norman, Alistair Welchman and Christopher Janaway (Cambridge: Cam-
bridge University Press, 2010).
Schopenhauer, Arthur, The World as Will and Presentation. Volume 2. Translated by
David Carus and Robert Aquila (Upper Saddle River: Prentice Hall, 2011).
Schopenhauer, Arthur, On the Fourfold Root of the Principle of Sufficient Reason
and Other Writings. Edited by David Cartwright, Edward Erdmann and Christo-
pher Janaway (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012).
Schopenhauer, Arthur, Parerga and Paralipomena. Volume 1. Translated and Edited
by Christopher Janaway and Sabine Roehr (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2014).
230 Bibliography
Schopenhauer, Arthur, Parerga and Paralipomena. Volume 2. Edited and Translated
by Adrian Del Caro and Christopher Janaway (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2015).
Secondary Works
Allais, Lucy, Manifest Reality: Kant’s Idealism and His Realism (Oxford: Oxford
Ameriks, Karl, Kant and the Fate of Autonomy: Problems in the Appropriation of the
Critical Philosophy (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2000).

App, Urs, ‘Schopenhauer’s Initial Encounter with Indian Thought’. In: Schopenhauer-
Jahrbuch 87 (2006) 35–76.
Atwell, John, Schopenhauer on the Character of the World: The Metaphysics of Will
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995).
Baudelaire, Charles, Oeuvres Completes I. Edited by Claude Pichois (Paris: Editions
Gallimard, 1975).
Bentham, Jeremy, The Principles of Morals and Legislation (New York: Hafner Press,
1973).
Berger, Douglas, ‘The Poorest Form of Theism: Schopenhauer, Islam and the Perils of
Comparative Hermeneutics’. In: Islam and Christian-Muslim Relations 15 (2004)
135–145.
Berman, David, ‘Spinoza’s Spiders, Schopenhauer’s Dogs’. In: Philosophical Studies
29 (1982) 202–209.
Berman, David, ‘Schopenhauer and Nietzsche: Honest Atheism, Dishonest Pessi-
mism’. In: Willing and Nothingness: Schopenhauer as Nietzsche’s Educator. Edited
by Christopher Janaway (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), pp. 178–195.
Besançon, Alain, The Forbidden Image: An Intellectual History of Iconoclasm. Trans-
lated by Jane Todd (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 2000).
Bilsker, Richard, ‘Freud and Schopenhauer: Consciousness, the Unconscious and the
Drive towards Death’. In: Idealistic Studies 27 (1997) 79–90.
Birnbacher, Dieter, Schopenhauers Wissenschaftstheorie: der Satz vom Grund. Edited
by Dieter Birnbacher (Würzburg: Königshausen und Neumann, 2015).
Buroker, Jill, Space and Incongruence: The Origin of Kant’s Idealism (Dordrecht:
Kluwer, 1981).
Cartwright, David, ‘Schopenhauerian Optimism and an Alternative to Resignation?’.
Cartwright, David, ‘Schopenhauer on Suffering, Death, Guilt, and the Consolation
of Metaphysics’. In: Schopenhauer: New Essays in Honor of His 200th Birthday.
Edited by Eric von der Luft (Lewiston: Edwin Mellen Press, 1988), pp. 51–66.
Cartwright, David, ‘Schopenhauer’s Narrower Sense of Morality’. In: The Cam-
bridge Companion to Schopenhauer. Edited by Christopher Janaway (Cambridge:
Cartwright, David, ‘Compassion and Solidarity with Sufferers: The Metaphysics of
Mitleid’. In: European Journal of Philosophy 16 (2008) 292–310.
Cartwright, David, Schopenhauer: A Biography (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2010).
Cartwright, David and Edward Erdmann, ‘Introduction’. In: On the Fourfold Root
of the Principle of Sufficient Reason and Other Writings. Edited by David Cart-
wright, Edward Erdmann and Christopher Janaway (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni-
versity Press, 2012), pp. xii–liv.
Bibliography 231
Cassirer, Ernst, Das Erkenntnisproblem im der Philosophie und Wissenschaft der neuern
Zeit. Band 3 (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft Darmstadt, 1974).
Chansky, James, ‘Schopenhauer and the Platonic Ideas: A Groundwork for an Aes-
thetic Metaphysics’. In: Schopenhauer: New Essays in Honor of His 200th Birth-
day. Edited by Eric von der Luft (Lewiston: Edwin Mellen Press, 1988), pp. 67–81.
Cholbi, Michael, ‘Kant and the Irrationality of Suicide’. In: History of Philosophy
Quarterly 17 (2000) 159–176.
Clewis, Robert, Reading Kant’s Lectures. Edited by Robert Clewis (New York: Ver-
lag de Gruyter, 2015).
Copleston, Frederik, Arthur Schopenhauer: Philosopher of Pessimism (London: Oates

and Washbourne, 1947).
De Cian, Nicoletta and Marco Segala, ‘What Is Will?’. In: Schopenhauer-Jahrbuch
83 (2002) 13–42.
Descartes, René, Meditations on First Philosophy: With Selections from the Objec-
tions and Replies. Edited by John Cottingham (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1986).
Desmond, William, God and the between (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2008).
Desmond, William, ‘Schopenhauer’s Philosophy of the Dark Origin’. In: A Com-
panion to Schopenhauer. Edited by Bart Vandenabeele (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell,
2012), pp. 101–122.
Deussen, Paul, Die Philosophie der Bibel (Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus, 1920).
Deussen, Paul, The Philosophy of the Upanishads. Translated by Alfred Shenington
Geden (New York: Dover Publications, 1966).
Dews, Peter, The Idea of Evil (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2013).
DiCenso, James, Kant’s Religion within the Boundaries of Mere Reason: A Commen-
tary (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012).
Duncan, Sam, ‘Moral Evil, Freedom and the Goodness of God: Why Kant Abandoned
Theodicy’. In: British Journal for the History of Philosophy 20 (2012) 973–991.
Dupré, Louis, The Enlightenment & the Intellectual Foundations of Modern Culture
(New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004).
Dupré, Louis, The Quest of the Absolute (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame
Press, 2013).
Dürr, Thomas, ‘Schopenhauers Grundlegung der Willensmetaphysik’. In: Schopenhauer-
Jahrbuch 84 (2003) 91–119.
Eichenwald, Iulii, ‘A Note on Schopenhauer’. In: Schopenhauer: New Essays in
Honor of His 200th Birthday. Edited by Eric von der Luft (Lewiston: Edwin Mel-
len Press, 1988), pp. 135–143.
Engell, James, The Creative Imagination: Enlightenment to Romanticism (Cam-
bridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1981).
Falkenstein, Lorne, ‘Kant’s Argument for the Non-Spatiotemporality of Things in
Themselves’. In: Kant-Studien 80 (1989) 265–283.
Fernández, Jordi, ‘Schopenhauer’s Pessimism’. In: Philosophy and Phenomenological
Research 73 (2006) 646–664.
Fleischer, Margot, Schopenhauer als Kritiker der Kantische Ethik (Würzburg:
Königshausen & Neumann, 2003).
Förster, Eckhart, The Twenty-Five Years of Philosophy: A Systematic Reconstruction.
Translated by Brady Bowman (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2012).
Foster, Cheryl, ‘Ideas and Imagination’. In: The Cambridge Companion to Schopen-
hauer. Edited by Christopher Janaway (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1999), pp. 213–251.
232 Bibliography
Fox, Michael, ‘Schopenhauer on Death, Suicide and Self-Renunciation’. In: Schopen-
hauer: His Philosophical Achievement. Edited by Michael Fox (Sussex: Harvester
Frank, Manfred, The Philosophical Foundations of Early German Romanticism.
Translated by Elizabeth Millán-Zaibert (New York: State University of New York
Press, 2004).
Franks, Paul, All or Nothing: Systematicity, Transcendental Arguments, and Scepti-
cism in German Idealism (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2005).
Galilei, Galileo, The Assayer. Translated by Drake Stillman (Philadelphia: University
of Pennsylvania Press, 1960).

Gardiner, Patrick, Schopenhauer (Harmondsworth: Penguin Publishing, 1963).
Gardiner, Patrick, ‘The Possibility of Metaphysics’. In: Schopenhauer: His Philosoph-
ical Achievement. Edited by Michael Fox (Sussex: Harvester Publishing, 1980),
pp. 37–49.
Gardner, Sebastian, ‘Schopenhauer’s Contraction of Reason: Clarifying Kant and
Undoing German Idealism’. In: The Kantian Review 17 (2012) 375–401.
Gardner, Sebastian, ‘Schopenhauer’s Metaphilosophy: How to Think a World with-
out Reason’. In: Schopenhauer’s Fourfold Root. Edited by Jonathan Head and
Dennis Vanden Auweele (New York: Routledge, 2017), pp. 11–31.
Gestering, Johann, ‘Schopenhauer und Indien’. In: Ethik und Vernunft. Schopen-
hauer in unserer Zeit. Edited by Wolfgang Schirmacher (Wien: Passagen Verlag,
1995), pp. 53–60.
Guyer, Paul, Kant and the Claims of Knowledge (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1987).
Guyer, Paul, ‘Back to Truth: Knowledge and Pleasure in the Aesthetics of Schopen-
hauer’. In: European Journal for Philosophy 16 (2008) 164–178.
Guyer, Paul, ‘Schopenhauer, Kant and Compassion’. In: Kantian Review 17 (2012)
403–429.
Hamlyn, David, Schopenhauer (London: Routledge, 1980).
Hamlyn, David, ‘Schopenhauer on Knowledge’. In: The Cambridge Companion to
Schopenhauer. Edited by Christopher Janaway (Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press, 1999), pp. 44–62.
Hannan, Barbara, The Riddle of the World: A Reconsideration of Schopenhauer’s
Philosophy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009).
Head, Jonathan, ‘Schopenhauer on the Development of the Individual’. In: Epoché
20 (2016) 427–446.
Head, Jonathan and Dennis Vanden Auweele, Schopenhauer’s Fourfold Root. Edited
by Jonathan Head and Dennis Vanden Auweele (New York: Routledge, 2016).
Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich, Philosophy of Right. Translated and Edited by
Thomas Malcolm Knox (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1952).
Heine, Heinrich, On the History of Religion and Philosophy in Germany: And Other
Writings. Edited by Terry Pinkard and Translated by Howard Pollack-Milgate
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007).
Heine, Hilde, ‘Schopenhauer and Platonic Ideas’. In: Journal of the History of Phi-
losophy 4 (1966) 133–144.
Hogan, Desmond, ‘Three Kinds of Rationalism and the Non-Spatiality of Things in
Themselves’. In: Journal of the History of Philosophy 47 (2009) 49–63.
Hübscher, Arthur, ‘Schopenhauers Gespräche’. In: Jahrbuch der Schopenhauer-
Gesellschaft 20 (1933) 3–419.
Bibliography 233
Hübscher, Arthur, Arthur Schopenhauer: Ein Lebensbild (Mannheim: Brockhaus,
1988).
Hübscher, Arthur, The Philosophy of Schopenhauer in Its Intellectual Context:
Thinker against the Tide (Mellen: Lampeter, 1989).
Hühn, Lore, ‘Die Wiederkehr des Verdrängten. Überlegungen zur Rolle des Anfangs
bei Schellung und Schopenhauer’. In: Schopenhauer Jahrbuch 86 (2005) 55–69.
Hühn, Lore, ‘Der Wille, der Nichts Will: Zum Paradox negativer Freiheit bei Schell-
ing und Schopenhauer’. In: Die Ethik Arthur Schopenhauers im Ausgang vom
Deutschen Idealismus (Fichte/Schelling). Edited by Lore Hühn (Würzburg: Ergon
Verlag, 2006), pp. 149–160.

Hühn, Lore, ‘Le mal chez Schelling et Schopenhauer’. In: Schelling en 1809. La lib-
erté pour le bien en pour le mal. Edited by Alexandra Roux (Paris: Vrin, 2010),
pp. 229–246.
Hühn, Lore and Sebastian Schwenzfeur, Schopenhauer liest Schelling: Arthur Schopen-
hauers handschriftlich kommentiertes Handexemplar von F. W. J. Schellings Philos-
ophische Untersuchungen über das Wesen der menschlichen Freiheit. Edited by
Lore Hühn and Sebastian Schwenzfeur (Stuttgart: Frommann-holzboog, 2016).
Jacquette, Dale, ‘Schopenhauer on the Ethics of Suicide’. In: Continental Philosoph-
ical Review 33 (2000) 43–58.
Jacquette, Dale, The Philosophy of Schopenhauer (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s Uni-
versity Press, 2005).
Janaway, Christopher, Self and World in Schopenhauer’s Philosophy (Oxford: Clar-
endon Press, 1989).
Janaway, Christopher, ‘Knowledge and Tranquility: Schopenhauer on the Value of
Art’. In: Schopenhauer, Philosophy, and the Arts. Edited by Dale Jacquette (Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 39–61.
Janaway, Christopher, ‘Schopenhauer’s Pessimism’. In: The Cambridge Companion
to Schopenhauer. Edited by Christopher Janaway (Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press, 1999), pp. 318–343.
Janaway, Christopher, ‘Will and Nature’. In: The Cambridge Companion to Schopen-
1999), pp. 138–170.
Janaway, Christopher, ‘Necessity, Responsibility and Character: Schopenhauer on
Freedom of the Will’. In: Kantian Review 17 (2012) 431–457.
Janaway, Christopher, ‘What’s so Good about Negation of the Will? Schopenhauer
and the Problem of the Summum Bonum’. In: Journal for the History of Philoso-
phy 54 (2016) 649–669.
Jordan, Neil, Schopenhauer’s Ethics of Patience: Virtue, Salvation, and Value (Lewis-
ton: The Edwin Mellen Press, 2009).
Kant, Immanuel, Immanuel Kant: Lectures on Ethics. Translated by Louis Infield
(London: Routledge, 1980).
Kneller, Jane, Kant and the Power of Imagination (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2007).
Kossler, Matthias, ‘Grenzbestimmungen der Vernunft bei Luther und Schopenhauer’.
Kossler, Matthias, Empirische Ethik und christliche Moral. Zur Differenz einer are-
ligiösen und einer religiösen Grundlegung der Ethik am Beispiel der Gegenüber-
stellung Schopenhauers mit Augustinus, der Scholastik und Luther (Würzburg:
Königshausen & Neumann, 1999).
234 Bibliography
Krukowski, Lucian, ‘Schopenhauer and the Aesthetics of Creativity’. In: Schopen-
hauer, Philosophy, and the Arts. Edited by Dale Jacquette (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1996), pp. 62–80.
Kundera, Milan, The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Translated by Michael Heim
(London: Harper and Row, 1984).
Langton, Rae, Kantian Humility: Our Ignorance of Things in Themselves (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1998).
Levinas, Emmanuel, ‘Useless Suffering’. In: The Provocation of Levinas: Rethinking
the Other. Edited by Robert Bernasconi and David Wood (London: Routledge,
1988), pp. 156–167.

Magee, Bryan, The Philosophy of Arthur Schopenhauer (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1983).
Mannion, Gerard, Schopenhauer, Religion and Morality: The Humble Path to Ethics
(Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003).
Matthews, Bruce, ‘The New Mythology: Romanticism between Religion and Human-
ism’. In: The Relevance of Romanticism: Essays on German Romantic Philosophy.
Edited by Dalia Nassar (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), pp. 202–218.
McCarty, Richard, ‘Kantian Moral Motivation and the Feeling of Respect’. In: Jour-
nal of the History of Philosophy 31 (1993) 421–435.
McCarty, Richard, Kant’s Theory of Action (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009).
McDermid, Douglas, ‘Schopenhauer and Transcendental Idealism’. In: A Companion
to Schopenhauer. Edited by Bart Vandenabeele (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2012),
pp. 70–88.
Michalson, Gordon, Kant’s Religion within the Boundaries of Mere Reason: A Criti-
cal Guide. Edited by Gordon Michalson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2016).
Migotti, Mark, ‘Schopenhauer’s Pessimism and the Unconditioned Good’. In: Journal
of the History of Philosophy 33 (1995) 643–660.
Nassar, Dalia, The Relevance of Romanticism: Essays on German Romantic Philos-
ophy. Edited by Dalia Nassar (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014).
Neeley, G. Stephen, Schopenhauer: A Consistent Reading (New York: Edwin Mellen
Press, 2003).
Neill, Alex, ‘Aesthetic Experience in Schopenhauer’s Metaphysics of Will’. In: Bet-
ter Consciousness: Schopenhauer’s Philosophy of Value. Edited by Christopher
Janaway and Alex Neill (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009), pp. 26–40.
Neill, Alex and Sandra Shapshay, ‘Moral and Aesthetic Freedom in Schopenhauer’s
Metaphysics’. In: International Yearbook of German Idealism 11 (2013) 245–264.
Nicholls, Moira, ‘The Influences of Eastern Thought on Schopenhauer’s Doctrine of
the Thing-in-Itself’. In: The Cambridge Companion to Schopenhauer. Edited by
Christopher Janaway (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), pp. 171–212.
Nietzsche, Friedrich, Untimely Meditations (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1983).
Nietzsche, Friedrich, Human, All too Human. Edited by Reginald John Hollingdale
and Robert Schacht (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996).
Nietzsche, Friedrich, The Birth of Tragedy and Other Writings. Edited by Raymond
Geuss and Ronald Speirs (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999).
Nietzsche, Friedrich, The Gay Science. Edited by Bernard Williams (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2001).
Nietzsche, Friedrich, Beyond Good and Evil. Edited by Rolf-Peter Horstmann and
Judith Norman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002).
Bibliography 235
Nietzsche, Friedrich, The Anti-Christ, Ecce Homo, Twilight of the Idols: And Other
Writings. Edited by Aaron Ridley and Judith Norman (Cambridge: Cambridge
Nietzsche, Friedrich, Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Edited by Adrian Del Caro and Rob-
ert Pippin (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006).
Palmquist, Stephen, A Comprehensive Commentary on Kant’s Religion within the
Bounds of Bare Reason (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2015).
Pasternack, Lawrence, Kant’s Religion within the Boundaries of Mere Reason: An
Interpretation and Defense (London: Routledge, 2013).
Paulsen, Friedrich, ‘Kant, der Philosoph des Protestantismus’. In: Kant-Studien 4

(1900) 1–31.
Philonenko, Alexis, Schopenhauer: Critique de Kant (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2005).
Plato, Plato: Complete Works. Edited by John Cooper and translated by George
Maximilian Antony Grube (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 1997).
Ray, Matthew Alun, Subjectivity and Irreligion: Atheism and Agnosticism in Kant,
Schopenhauer and Nietzsche (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing, 2003).
Reginster, Bernard, ‘Autonomy and the Self as the Basis of Morality’. In: The Cam-
bridge Companion to Philosophy in the Nineteenth Century. Edited by Allen Wood
and Songsuk Hahn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), pp. 387–433.
Reginster, Bernard, ‘Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Wagner’. In: A Companion to Schopen-
hauer. Edited by Bart Vandenabeele (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2012), pp. 349–366.
Rescher, Nicholas, Kant and the Reach of Reason: Studies in Kant’s Theory of Ratio-
nal Systematization (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000).
Roebuck, Valerie, The Upanishads. Edited and translated by Valerie Roebuck
(London: Penguin Books, 2003).
Rosset, Clément, Schopenhauer, philosophe de l’absurde (Quadrige: Presses Univer-
sitaires de France, 1989).
Russell, Bertrand, History of Western Philosophy (London: Allen and Unwin, 1946).
Ryan, Christopher, Schopenhauer’s Philosophy of Religion (Leuven: Peeters Publish-
ing, 2010).
Safranski, Rüdiger, Schopenhauer and the Wild Years of Philosophy. Translated by
Ewald Osers (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1990).
Salaquarda, Jörg, ‘Schopenhauer und die Religion’. In: Die Deutung der Welt. Edited
by Konstantin Broese, Matthias Kossler and Barbara Salaquarda (Würzburg:
Königshausen & Neumann, 2007), pp. 83–96.
Schaefer, Alfred, Die Schopenhauer-Welt (Berlin: Berlin Verlag, 1981).
Schelling, Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph, System of Transcendental Idealism. Translated
by Peter Heath (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1978).
Schelling, Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph, Philosophie der Kunst. Edited by Werner Beir-
waltes (Stuttgart: Philip Reclam, 1982).
Schelling, Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph, The Grounding of Positive Philosophy: The
Berlin Lectures. Translated by Bruce Matthews (New York: State University of
New York Press, 2007).
Schiller, Friedrich von, Schillers Werke: Nationalsausgabe Zweiter Band: Teil 1 (Wei-
mar: Hermann Böhlaus Nachfolger, 1983).
Shapshay, Sandra, ‘Poetic Intuition and the Bounds of Sense: Metaphor and Meton-
ymy in Schopenhauer’s Philosophy’. In: European Journal of Philosophy 16 (2008)
211–229.
Shapshay, Sandra, ‘Did Schopenhauer Neglect the “Neglected Alternative” Objec-
tion?’. In: Archiv für Geschichte der Philosophie 93 (2011) 321–348.
236 Bibliography
Shapshay, Sandra, ‘The Problem with the Problem of Tragedy: Schopenhauer’s Solu-
tion Revisited’. In: British Journal of Aesthetics 52 (2012) 17–32.
Shapshay, Sandra, ‘Schopenhauer’s Transformation of the Kantian Sublime’. In: Kan-
tian Review 17 (2012) 479–511.
Shapshay, Sandra, ‘Schopenhauer’s Reception of Kant’. In: Bloomsbury Compan-
ion to Kant, 2nd edition. Edited by Dennis Schulting (London: Continuum Press,
2015), pp. 313–318.
Shapshay, Sandra, ‘Schopenhauer’s Aesthetics’. In: Stanford Encyclopedia of Philos-
ophy. http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/schopenhauer-aesthetics/
Shapshay, Sandra, ‘Schopenhauer’s Early Fourfold Root and the Ghost of Kantian
Freedom’. In: Schopenhauer’s Fourfold Root. Edited by Jonathan Head and Den-
nis Vanden Auweele (New York: Routledge, 2017), pp. 80–98.
Singh, Raj, Death, Contemplation and Schopenhauer (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing,
2007).
Singh, Raj, Schopenhauer: A Guide for the Perplexed (London: Continuum Publish-
ing, 2010).
Steiger, Robert, Goethes Leben von Tag zu Tag. Band V: 1807–1813 (Zürich and
München: Artemis Verlag, 1988).
Taylor, Charles, A Secular Age (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007).
Tonelli, Giorgio, ‘Kant’s Early Theory of Genius (1770–1779): Part 1’. In: Journal for
the History of Philosophy 4 (1966) 109–132.
Tonelli, Giorgio, ‘Kant’s Early Theory of Genius (1770–1779): Part 2’. In: Journal for
the History of Philosophy 4 (1966) 209–224.
Trendelenburg, Friedrich, Kuno Fischer und sein Kant (Leipzig: Hirzel Verlag, 1869).
Vandenabeele, Bart, De bloesem van het leven. Esthetiek en ethiek in Arthur Schopen-
hauers filosofie (Leuven: Universitaire Pers Leuven, 2001).
Vandenabeele, Bart, ‘Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, and the Aesthetically Sublime’. In:
The Journal of Aesthetic Education 37 (2003) 90–106.
Vandenabeele, Bart, The Sublime in Schopenhauer’s Philosophy (New York: Palgrave
Macmillan, 2015).
Vanden Auweele, Dennis, ‘The Lutheran Influence on Kant’s Depraved Will’. In:
International Journal for the Philosophy of Religion 73 (2013) 117–134.
Vanden Auweele, Dennis, ‘New Perspective on Schopenhauer’s Ontology of Will’. In
Schopenhauer-Jahrbuch 94 (2013) 31–52.
Vanden Auweele, Dennis, ‘Noble Lies and Tragedy in Nietzsche’s Zarathustra’. In:
International Journal for Philosophy and Theology 74 (2013) 127–143.
Vanden Auweele, Dennis, ‘The Pietist Premise of Kant’s Postulation of God’. In: Jahr-
buch fur Religionsphilosophie 12 (2013), 162–188
Vanden Auweele, Dennis, ‘For the Love of God: Kant on Grace’. In: International
Philosophical Quarterly 54 (2014) 175–190.
Vanden Auweele, Dennis, ‘Schopenhauer, pessimisme en zelfmoord’. In: Tijdschrift
voor Filosofie 76 (2014) 307–330.
Vanden Auweele, Dennis, ‘Kant on Religious Moral Education’. In: Kantian Review
20 (2015), 373–394.
Vanden Auweele, Dennis, ‘Schopenhauer and the Paradox of Genius’. In: Epoché: A
Journal for the History of Philosophy 20 (2015) 149–168.
Vanden Auweele, Dennis, ‘Schopenhauer on Religious Pessimism’. In: International
Journal for Philosophy of Religion 78 (2016) 53–71.
Bibliography 237
Vanden Auweele, Dennis, ‘A Most Beloved Piece of Nonsense: The Ontological Argu-
ment and Metaphysics’. In: New Essays on Schopenhauer’s Fourfold Root. Edited
by Jonathan Head and Dennis Vanden Auweele (New York: Routledge, 2017),
pp. 99–112.
Vanden Auweele, Dennis, ‘Schopenhauer’s Lutheran Pedigree’. In: Luther und die
Philosophie. Edited by Carlo Gentili Eleonora Caramelli (Dianoia, 2017).
Vanden Auweele, Dennis, ‘Schopenhauer and the Later Schelling in Dialogue on
Mythology and Religion‘. In: The Journal of Religion (forthcoming).
White, Frank C., On Schopenhauer’s Fourfold Root of the Principle of Sufficient
Reason (Leiden: Brill Publishing, 1992).

White, Frank C., ‘The Fourfold Root’. In: The Cambridge Companion to Schopen-
1999), pp. 63–92.
Wicks, Robert, Schopenhauer (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2008).
Wood, Allen, ‘Kant’s Compatibilism’. In: Self and Nature in Kant’s Philosophy.
Edited by Allen Wood (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1984).
Wood, Allen, ‘Kant and the Problem of Human Nature’. In: Essays on Kant’s Anthro-
pology. Edited by Brian Jacobs and Patrick Kain (Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press, 2003), pp. 38–59.
Young, Julian, ‘A Schopenhauerian Solution to Schopenhauerian Pessimism’. In:
Schopenhauer-Jahrbuch 68 (1987) 53–69.
Young, Julian, ‘The Standpoint of Eternity: Schopenhauer on Art’. In: Kant-Studien
78 (1987) 424–441.
Young, Julian, Willing and Unwilling: A Study in the Philosophy of Arthur Schopen-
hauer (Boston: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers, 1987).
Young, Julian, Schopenhauer (London: Routledge Publishing, 2005).
Zachhuber, Johannes, Theology as Science in Nineteenth-Century Germany: From F
C Baur to Ernst Troeltsch (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013).
Zöller, Günter, ‘Schopenhauer on the Self’. In: The Cambridge Companion to
Schopenhauer. Edited by Christopher Janaway (Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press, 1999), pp. 18–43.
Index
aesthetics 3–4, 12, 62–73, 118, 141–2, Christianity 9, 16, 35, 94, 117n20,
175–89 129, 134, 138, 144, 156–7, 159–62,
Alighieri, Dante 197, 199 166, 169, 171, 172, 199, 211, 213,
analogy, argument from 106–7 218, 222, 224, 227; authentic and
animals 50–2, 79n37, 93–6, 99, 105, contemporary 16, 160, 138, 170–1;
121, 128, 131, 138, 181 Catholicism 172; Christianity on
Aristotle 31, 179 images 63; Protestantism 12, 16, 20,
asceticism 1, 101, 118, 142, 152, 134, 171–2, 196, 224–5
172–3, 192, 204–18, 224 compassion 3, 4, 25, 52, 93, 118, 129,
atheism 11–12, 95, 167—9, 222–3 132, 135, 142–52, 160, 172–3, 183,
atman 15, 79, 217 185, 190–5, 198, 204, 205–7, 210,
Augustine 157, 164, 211 215, 218, 224
consciousness 10, 19, 30, 36, 40–2, 44,
Baudelaire, Charles 180–1 50, 52, 55, 56, 73, 78n33, 85, 87–8,
Berkeley, Bishop 36, 41 103–5, 131–3, 142–4
Bible, the 169, 171–2
body 5, 48–56, 58, 60, 62, 68, 69, 70, Darwin, Charles 40, 78n25, 95
73–4, 84–90, 92, 100, 108, 144, 151, Darwin, Erasmus 40
199 death 56, 84, 102, 132, 135, 137–9,
Brahmanism 101, 138, 160–1, 170, 154, 162–3, 179, 198, 201, 202–3,
171–2 205
brain 55, 85 Descartes, René 31, 36, 38, 51, 53–4,
Buddhism 15, 113, 138, 157, 160, 170, 87–8, 113, 123, 197
171–3, 216 destiny 6–7, 122, 217
Burke, Edmund 62–3, 65 determinism 32, 50, 72, 96–107,
149–50, 209–10
causality 10, 18, 22, 32, 38–40, 43, Deussen, Paul 7n3, 16, 102, 169, 175
45–6, 54–5, 72–3, 77n20, 87, 96–7, dignity 51, 96, 109, 144, 220n15
99–100, 104, 107, 109, 120, 187, diremption 110, 112, 225
206 disbelief 166
cause 10, 18, 31–3, 37, 43, 50, 96–101, disgust 119, 135, 139–42, 191, 227
102, 104, 105, 106, 116n17, 120, dogmatism 22, 25
123, 131–2, 149, 210
character 20, 21, 52, 104–5, 106, 119, egoism 45, 89, 92, 140, 142, 147–8,
120–1, 126, 140, 207, 210, 214; 150–2, 154n21, 183
acquired character 100, 105–6, enlightenment 4, 11–12, 15, 91, 111,
149; empirical character 97–8, 112; 172, 182, 194, 197
intelligible character 97–8, 112 eternal justice 101, 161–2
Christ, Jesus 63, 159, 199, 213, 227 eudemonism 124–9
240 Index
evil 19–20, 23, 26n11, 95, 98, 108–14, 205; sensible intuition 10, 17–18, 43,
133, 136–40, 148, 151n21, 156, 49, 53, 61, 65
158–9, 196, 198, 200, 214 Islam 171
Existentialism 28, 131, 183
Jacobi, Carl Gustav Jacob 1, 10–12, 18,
faith 11–12, 17, 39, 54, 74–5, 115, 137, 75, 79n39, 83, 159, 197
156, 158, 163, 165–7, 172, 195–7, Judaism 169, 171
209, 211, 222, 224–5, 228n3
Fichte, Johann Gottlieb 1–2, 4, 10–13, Kant, Immanuel: architectonics 9, 16,
18, 28, 34, 36, 42, 56, 58, 83, 85, 88, 24, 28, 110, 112, 114, 149, 156,
91, 103, 143 225; Christology 25, 156, 159–60;
freedom 12, 17–23, 39, 61, 72, 91, Critique of Practical Reason 22,
96–9, 102–11, 118–23, 129–30, 134, 103–4, 117n24, 127, 162, 219n15;
143, 145, 147, 172, 215–18, 223, Critique of Pure Reason 10–12,
228n3 17–19, 28, 34, 37, 46, 98, 101, 107,
Freud, Sigmund 102, 131, 154n23, 197 143, 167, 172, 209, 219n15; Critique
of the Power of Judgment 25, 69,
Galileo, Galilei 33, 53 177, 182; disposition (Gesinnung) 19,
genius 35, 63, 65–9, 71, 73, 77n19, 21, 23, 25, 98, 110, 159; ecclesiology
140, 141, 146, 149, 165, 175, 180–8, 25, 158–9; evil (propensity to) 19,
191, 194, 205–7, 211, 215; three 21, 98, 108–11, 114, 140, 159, 196;
capacities of genius 181–5 Groundwork for the Metaphysics of
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von 9, 31—4, Morals 22, 24, 103–4, 108, 128, 143;
65, 77n13, 89, 164, 178, 179 Kant on antinomy 18–19, 22, 39–40,
grace 110, 114, 135, 138, 141, 172, 96, 104, 112, 168; Kant’s aesthetics
190, 222, 224–5, 228n3 3, 64, 177; Metaphysics of Morals
19, 24, 108, 128, 143, 200, 220n15;
Hartmann, Eduard von 7n3, 57 Religion within the Bounds of Mere
Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich 1–2, 4, Reason 19, 156–7, 160–1
10–13, 21, 28, 32, 34, 36, 42, 58, 64, Kundera, Milan 227
66, 72, 83, 88, 112, 131, 143, 156,
161, 163, 165, 166–7, 177, 209 Lamarck, Jean-Baptiste 40, 78n25
highest good 114–18, 119–39, 151–2, Laocoon, statue of 213
170, 196, 201, 206–10, 213, 215–18, Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm 4, 13, 31, 63,
226–7 94, 102, 111, 119, 136–8, 153n15
Hinduism 157, 160, 171 life force 4, 33, 46, 54, 92
humanism 196 Luther, Martin 20, 111, 115, 134–5,
Hume, David 31, 39, 43, 46, 94–6, 166, 138, 157, 164, 171, 196, 211, 219n9,
168, 194, 200 228n3
Hutcheson, Francis 22, 62–3, 194
metaphysics 1–2, 5, 6, 11, 12, 22, 23,
idealism 2, 10–11, 13, 28, 36–8, 42, 28, 30, 36, 42, 46, 48, 57–61, 75,
45, 48, 53, 61, 92, 112, 130, 225; 83–117, 118, 119, 128–30, 134, 136,
absolute idealism 4, 25, 36, 42–3, 139, 143, 149, 159, 162–3, 169, 171,
45–6, 48, 54; subjective idealism 11, 174n20, 176, 194, 203, 206, 224
25, 58; transcendental idealism 3, 6, misogyny 81n77
9–10, 30, 34, 37, 39, 42–4, 45, 48–9, moral laws 19, 21–4, 74, 93, 98, 107–8,
58–9, 61, 83–4, 86, 125, 225 110–11, 114–15, 126, 129–30, 139,
Indian thought 9, 13–14; see also 145–7, 150, 159, 193, 200, 220n15,
Upanishads 223–4, 228n3
introspection 49, 55, 194 Morin, Frédéric 1
intuition 6, 121; immediate intuition motive 50, 98–100, 102–7, 120–3,
17–18, 49, 57, 69, 74, 88, 175, 183; 126–7, 130, 139, 146–52, 194, 200,
rational intuition 18, 58, 83, 103, 202, 207, 210, 214
Index 241
music 62, 69, 71, 81n77, 82n78, 176, revelation 11–12, 35, 83, 91, 135, 158,
186, 188 167, 177, 192, 196, 211, 222
mysticism 13, 70, 211 Romanticism 28, 75n2, 90–1, 100,
mythology 12, 83, 91, 97, 101, 161, 167 116n7, 131, 156–7, 160, 176, 183
naturalism 4, 6, 12, 33, 41, 43, 46, samsara 15, 141, 172, 191
51, 58, 85, 90–6, 99, 105, 121, 128, scepticism 7n5, 30, 37, 43, 45, 89, 92
149–50, 182 Schelling, Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph von
natural science 30, 33, 46, 53–4, 81n69, 1–2, 4, 10–12, 18–19, 28, 34, 36–8,
129, 174n13, 189n11 42, 55, 64, 68, 83, 85–6, 88, 91, 98,
neglected alternative 39 110, 156–7, 161, 166, 177, 188, 194,
Nietzsche, Friedrich Wilhelm 1–2, 4, 228
7n3, 16, 21, 29, 35, 77n13, 82n83, Schleiermacher, Friedrich Daniel Ernst
83–4, 112, 123–4, 150, 164, 168–9, 10–12, 91
175–6, 178–9, 188n2, 196, 197, 207, scholasticism 34–5
217, 222–3, 227–8 Schopenhauer, Arthur works: On the
noumenon see thing in itself Fourfold Root of the Principle of
Sufficient Reason 31–2, 76n10, 77n20,
ontological argument 31, 87–8 78n30, 88; Prize Essay on the Basis
optimism 3–4, 94, 125, 131, 136, 138, of Morality 51, 94, 125, 129, 143–4,
159, 164, 167, 169–70, 194, 196, 149, 194; Prize Essay on the Freedom
198, 201, 203, 216, 222 of the Will 99, 102–3, 106, 122; On
Orpheus 175, 186 Vision and Colors 31–3, 46, 76n13;
On the Will in Nature 33, 46, 55, 184
pantheism 11, 148, 223 Schopenhauer, Heinrich Floris 201
patriotism 11, 26n3 Schopenhauer, Johanna 14, 33
perspectivism 120, 124, 188n2 Schulze, Gottlob Ernst 10–11, 28, 43
pessimism 3, 7n3, 28, 123, 139, 146, secularization 195, 225
201, 216, 222, 227; Kant’s pessimism Shakespeare, William 164, 179
9, 20; pessimism in religions 138, slave trade 138, 164
160; Schopenhauer’s pessimism 3, solipsism 44–5, 48, 67, 69, 89, 92
9, 95, 112, 130, 134, 136, 138, 200, Spinoza, Baruch de 31, 50–1, 113
203, 216–17, 223 stimulus 98–100, 104
Plato 9–10, 13, 31, 35–6, 45, 63, 67–8, Stoicism 121–2
84, 112, 179, 215, 218; Platonic Storr, Gottlob Christian 165–6
ideas 5, 25, 29, 36, 43, 65–74, 82n78, suicide 95, 151, 190, 198–204, 219n15,
92, 178, 181, 183, 185–6, 189n11, 220n22
191, 193, 205, 218 suspicion 21, 197, 214
poetry 71, 81n77, 178–9
practical reason 17, 24, 52, 96, 98, teleology 100–1, 114, 116
119–21, 124, 130, 144, 156, 211, theism 11, 167–9, 171, 222–3
224 theodicy 136–7, 153n15, 187
principle of sufficient reason 31–3, 38, theology 11–12, 24, 34–5, 70, 93,
43–6, 48, 50, 53–6, 58, 61, 65–6, 95, 118, 125, 129, 163, 196, 211,
68, 70–2, 74, 78n30, 84, 87–90, 98, 220n26, 225
130–1, 145, 183, 185, 208–9 thing in itself 10, 17–18, 30, 34, 40,
principium individuationis 29, 65, 205 42–4, 49, 52, 57, 59–60, 66, 68,
pure subject 5–6, 54, 73, 141, 181, 79n43, 80n56, 86–7, 97, 108, 169,
186–7, 210–11 176, 208, 225
tragedy 71, 135, 142, 176, 178–80
reductionism 30, 33, 46, 48, 58, 91–2
Reinhold, Karl Leonhard 10–11, 13, 28 Upanishads 13–16, 27n14, 27n15, 31,
responsibility 98, 106–7, 117n20, 122, 35, 113, 162, 211
127 utilitarianism 193
242 Index
veil of Maya 13, 25, 36, 54, 226 170, 184–6, 190–3, 198–9, 201–5,
207, 210–11, 214–17; denial of 75,
Wagner, Richard 7n3, 77n13, 90, 161, 82n83, 119, 124, 141, 147, 169–70,
176, 183 184–5, 192–3, 197–8, 201–3, 205,
will: affirmation of will 7, 25, 75, 119, 208–12, 214–18, 222, 226, 228n3
121, 126, 134–5, 137, 140–2, 150–1, Wolff, Christian 31, 63, 119

The Kantian Foundation of Schopenhauers Pessimism 2017

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

The Kantian Foundation of Schopenhauers Pessimism 2017

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Downloaded by [University of California, San Diego] at 09:12 03 May 2017

The Kantian Foundation of

Vanden Auweele’s study is a clear, original, and well-argued reconstruction

This book connects Schopenhauer’s philosophy with transcendental idealism

Dennis Vanden Auweele is assistant professor of philosophy of religion at

5 Peirce’s Account of Purposefulness

6 Mill’s A System of Logic

8 Pragmatism, Kant, and Transcendental Philosophy

9 An Interpretation of Nietzsche’s On the Uses and Disadvantages

10 Hegel’s Philosophical Psychology

11 Nietzsche and the Philosophers

12 Schopenhaur’s Fourfold Root

13 Nietzsche’s Psychology of Ressentiment

14 The Kantian Foundation of Schopenhauer’s Pessimism

Dennis Vanden Auweele

The right of Dennis Vanden Auweele to be identified as author of this

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

The Tragedy of Macbeth

1 Schopenhauer’s Philosophical Pedigree 9

4 Schopenhauer on Ethics and Action 118

5 Schopenhauer’s Philosophy of Religion 156

6 Schopenhauer’s Aesthetics 175

7 Schopenhauer’s Ascetics 190

Schopenhauer’s works are referenced using the pagination of: Arthur

UWS: On the Fourfold Root of the Principle of Sufficient Reason

I refer to Schopenhauer’s correspondence by the siglum B followed by the num-

A / B: Critique of Pure Reason

Mistrust every saccharine metaphysics! A philosophy in which one does

From statements such as this, it is not hard to discern why Schopenhauer

postmodern philosophy, regards some—but certainly not all!—of Schopen-

Schopenhauer’s main work The World as Will and Representation, hav-

It might be an exaggeration to claim that Schopenhauer’s main work is one

exegesis of Schopenhauer’s philosophy, even of those aspects that do not

claims of inconsistency that allegedly haunt Schopenhauer’s philosophy—

The second type of knowledge is non-representational in nature, i.e., not

Two fundamental purposes, diametrically opposed, are constantly cross-

of the Kantian Sublime’. In: Kantian Review 17 (2012) 479–511.

Schopenhauer matured at a time when philosophy was trying to find its

Section 1: The Kantian Aftermath

standard for academic discussions on a variety of subjects. In fact, there were

gger and Hans-Georg Gadamer. Schleiermacher developed his hermeneutics

Section 2: The Indian Factor

was first exposed to Indian thought by Friedrich Majer, an orientalist that

the same life-denying perspective as Christianity:

A similar notion is professed, albeit more approvingly, by a close friend of

Section 3: Schopenhauer’s Kantian Legacy

become necessary in order to warrant the rational consistency of practical

By nature (in the empirical sense) we understand the combination of

But another issue arises: if there is no causality from freedom as absolute

3.2 Nature as Evil

Kant consistently remains skeptical about whether we could ever have

views on the nature and consequences of this transformation dramatically

duty is moral autonomy as the capacity to act in accordance with duty.

Most scholars read Schopenhauer as not seeking assistance from religion,

opus ipsa in India rarissimum, continens antiquam et arcanam, seu theologi-

Most first time readers of Schopenhauer’s philosophy tend to assume very

Should I try to resolve this tension and somehow reveal Schopenhauer’s

philosophy to be consistent? I cannot. Schopenhauer’s philosophy is not

It would be unfair and unsound to depend on logic as the only criterion

is capable of providing insight about the in itself.

Section 1: Mediate Representational Knowledge

1.1 The Preface of WWV1 as the Key to

[Goethe’s theory of colors] is a systematic presentation of facts; how-