JOHANN GOTTLIEB FICHTE

Reclaiming Freedom of Thought from the Princes of Europe, Who Have Hitherto Suppressed It.

A Speech (1793, 1845)

Preface

There are learned gentlemen who believe they convey no small opinion of their own thoroughness by summarily dismissing everything written with some vivacity as mere declamation. Should these present pages happen to reach the hands of one of these thorough gentlemen, I confess to them in advance that these pages were by no means intended to exhaust such a rich subject. Rather, they were meant only to lay some pertinent ideas, with a degree of warmth, to the heart of the less instructed public, which, by virtue of its high standing and strong voice, possesses sufficient influence over general opinion. This public is generally not easily approached with thoroughness. However, if those more thorough individuals should find no trace of a firmer, deeper system in these pages, nor any hint unworthy of further reflection, then part of the fault might lie with them.

It is one of the characteristic peculiarities of our age that people so readily venture to criticize princes and the great. Does the ease of satirizing princes entice them, or do they believe they elevate themselves through the apparent grandeur of their subject? In an age where most German princes strive to distinguish themselves through goodwill and popularity; where they do so much to destroy the etiquette that once established an immense chasm between them and their fellow citizens, and which was as burdensome to them as it was detrimental to the latter; where, in particular, many give the appearance of valuing scholars and scholarship, this is doubly striking. – If one cannot bear witness to one's own conscience that one is certain of one's cause, and firm enough to endure all consequences that the dissemination of acknowledged and useful truth might have for oneself, with the same dignity with which one spoke the truth; then one relies either on the good nature of these so heavily accused princes, or on one's own insignificant and inconsequential obscurity. The author of these pages believes he offends no prince on earth, neither by his assertions nor by his tone; rather, he believes he unites them all. That it is believed that in a certain great state, the principles he seeks to establish here are being directly contravened, could certainly not remain hidden from him; but he knew no less that in neighboring Protestant states, much more occurs without anyone becoming particularly agitated, because it has always been the custom there; he knew that it is easier to investigate what should or should not happen than to judge impartially what actually happens; and his situation denied him the data for a thorough judgment of the latter kind. He knew that even if not all facts as such could be defended, nonetheless their driving forces could be very noble – and in our case, he would admire the inventive benevolence that sought to awaken us more powerfully to a warmer appreciation and more zealous use of a good, against which long enjoyment had made us indifferent, through the apparent attempt to rob us of it – he would marvel at the rare magnanimity that deliberately exposed itself and its dearest friends to the danger of being misunderstood, slandered, and hated, solely to promote and elevate enlightenment. Finally, he knew that through these pages he himself offers every state a welcome opportunity to prove the purity of its intentions by permitting their printing and public sale, by distributing them to its clergy, and so forth. No state in which these pages are printed and publicly sold seeks to suppress enlightenment. If the author has erred, the truth-loving Herr Cranz will not fail to refute him. It is therefore not for poetic, but for literary reasons, that the author does not disclose his name. Whoever has a right to ask for it, and asks in a lawful manner, will be told it without hesitation; and in due time, he will name himself unasked: for, as Rousseau, he believes, "every honest man must acknowledge what he has written."

How much less misery humanity endures under most of its present state constitutions than it would endure in a state of complete dissolution, we will not investigate here; enough, it suffers – and it is meant to suffer: the land of our state constitutions is the land of toil and labor; the land of enjoyment does not lie beneath the moon. But precisely this misery should be a driving spur for humanity to exercise its powers, to strengthen itself for future enjoyment in the struggle against it, and in the hard-won victory. Humanity was meant to be miserable, but it was not meant to remain miserable. Its state constitutions, the sources of its common misery, could certainly not have been better until now – otherwise they would be – but they are meant to become ever better. This has happened, as far as we can trace human history, and will happen as long as there is human history, in two ways: either through violent leaps, or through gradual, slow, but certain progress. Through leaps, through violent state upheavals and revolutions, a people can advance further in half a century than it would have in ten – but this half-century is also miserable and arduous – yet it can also fall back just as far, and be thrown back into the barbarism of the previous millennium. World history provides evidence for both. Violent revolutions are always a bold venture for humanity; if they succeed, the victory won is well worth the endured hardship; if they fail, you are driven through misery to greater misery. More certain is gradual progress towards greater enlightenment, and with it, towards the improvement of the state constitution. The progress you make is less noticeable as it occurs; but you look behind you, and you behold a great stretch of road covered. Thus, in our present century, humanity, especially in Germany, made great strides without any fuss. It is true, the Gothic outline of the building is still visible almost everywhere; the new annexes are by no means yet united into a solid whole; but they are there, and are beginning to be inhabited, and the old robber castles are falling into ruin. If we are not disturbed, they will increasingly be vacated by humans and left as dwellings for light-shy owls and bats; the new buildings will expand and gradually unite into an ever more regular whole.

These were our prospects, and these were to be stolen from us by the suppression of our freedom of thought? – and these we could allow to be stolen from us! – If the progress of the human spirit is hindered, only two cases are possible: the first, less probable – we remain where we were, we give up all claims to the reduction of our misery and the increase of our happiness; we allow limits to be set beyond which we do not wish to step; – or the second, far more probable: the restrained course of nature breaks through violently and destroys everything that stands in its way, humanity takes the cruelest revenge on its oppressors, revolutions become necessary. The true application of a terrible spectacle of this kind, which our days have provided, has not yet been made. I fear it is no longer time, or it is high time, to open the dams that are still being erected elsewhere against the course of the human spirit, even with that spectacle before our eyes, lest it break through them violently and terribly devastate the surrounding fields.

No, you peoples, give up everything, everything, but not freedom of thought. Always send your sons into savage battle, to slaughter men who never offended them, or to be consumed by disease, or to bring disease back as spoils into your peaceful homes; always snatch your last morsel of bread from the hungry child and give it to the favorite's dog – give, give everything; only this palladium of humanity, descended from heaven, this pledge that another fate awaits you than merely suffering, enduring, and being crushed – only this you must uphold. Future generations might terribly reclaim from you what was entrusted to you by your fathers for transmission to them. Had they been as cowardly as you – would you not still be under the most dishonorable slavery of mind and body to a spiritual despot? Through bloody struggles, they won what you can maintain with but a little firmness.

Therefore, do not hate your princes; you should hate yourselves. One of the primary sources of your misery is that you have far too high an opinion of them and their helpers. It is true, they rummage through the darkness of semi-barbaric centuries with diligent hands, and believe they have found a magnificent pearl when they have stumbled upon a maxim from those times – they deem themselves very wise when they have forced these sparse maxims, just as they found them, into their memory: but you can be sure that they know less about what they should know, about their own true purpose, about human worth and human rights, than the most uninstructed among you. How should they ever learn such things? – they, for whom there is a special truth, determined not by the principles on which general human truth is founded, but by the state constitution, the situation, the political system of their country; they, whose minds are laboriously stripped of the general human form from youth, and pressed into the one mold into which alone such a truth fits – into whose tender hearts the maxim is imprinted from youth: "All these people, Sire, whom you see, are there for you, they are your property."[^1] How should they, even if they learned it, ever have the strength to comprehend it? – they, whose spirit is artificially robbed of its vigor by a debilitating moral doctrine, by early sensual pleasures, and, if they are jaded by these, by late superstition. One is tempted to assume a constantly enduring miracle of providence when, in history, one encounters so many more merely weak than evil princes; and I, at least, count all vices they do not possess as virtues, and thank them for all the evil they do not inflict upon me.

And such princes are persuaded to suppress freedom of thought – not for your sake, mind you. You might think and investigate, and preach on the rooftops whatever you wished; the satellites of despotism do not heed you; their power is far too firm; whether you are convinced of the legitimacy of their demands or not: what does that matter to them? They will know how to compel you through dishonor or hunger, through fortress imprisonment, or through executions. But you make a great outcry with your investigations – they will certainly not fail to guard the prince's ear – but it could, it might be possible, that at some point an unfortunate word reaches him, that he investigates further, that he finally becomes wiser and recognizes what would serve his and your peace. That is what they want to prevent you from doing; and that, you peoples, you must not allow yourselves to be prevented from doing!

Shout it, shout it in every tone into your princes' ears until they hear it, that you will not allow freedom of thought to be taken from you, and prove the reliability of this assurance by your conduct. Do not be deterred by the fear of the reproach of immodesty. Against what could you possibly be immodest? Against the gold and diamonds on the crown, against the purple on your prince's robe; not – against him. It takes little self-confidence to believe that one can tell princes things they do not know.

And especially all of you who have the strength for it, declare the most irreconcilable war on that primary prejudice from which all our evils follow, that poisonous source of all our misery, that maxim: that it is the prince's destiny to watch over our happiness; pursue it into all the hiding places, through the entire system of our knowledge, where it has concealed itself, until it is eradicated from the earth and returned to the hell from whence it came. We do not know what promotes our happiness: if the prince knows it, and if he is there to guide us to it, then we must follow our leader with closed eyes; he does with us what he wills, and if we ask him, he assures us on his word that it is necessary for our happiness; he puts the rope around humanity's neck and cries: "Quiet, quiet, it's all for your own good."[^2]

No, Prince, you are not our God. From Him we expect happiness; from you, the protection of our rights. You are not to be benevolent towards us; you are to be just.