§ 48. Two Kinds of People
The certainty and unity of the scientific result, which, through the strong divergencies which exist in the thinking subject, and still more through the existence of the lie, almost fell victims to Scepticism, recover considerable strength through the influence of wisdom and the support of faith. Since, however, as soon as it performs its function in the domain of the spiritual sciences, faith passes again under the dominion of the subjective divergencies, it can indeed promote the certainty of the result in the conviction, but it proves, rather than a help, an obstacle in the way to the unity of this result. The degree of certainty of one’s own conviction cannot be raised without causing the antithesis with the scientific result of others to become proportionately striking. This is true of every spiritual science, in so far as its object is psychic; but from the nature of the case this is most true of the science which has religion for the object of its investigation; because, here, the subjective-psychic must make a very important step, in order from one’s own soul to reach the object of its worship.
And yet these darker spots in the orb of science would prove no obstacle in the way to the unity of its radiance, if these divergencies in the subject limited themselves to a relative difference. Since, as was seen at the beginning of our study, the subject of science is not the individual, but the general subject of human nature, the potentially higher might at length of itself draw the potentially lower up to and along with itself, and in spite of much resistance and hesitation bring the universal human consciousness to a clear insight, a firm conviction, and a certain knowledge. In every domain of the expression of human life the subjective powers are unequal; not only in that of science, but also in those of art, religion, the development of social life, and business. In the spiritual domain, i.e. as soon as the powers of the consciousness and of the will turn the scale, equality is no longer found. Here endless variety is the rule. But in this multiformity there operates a law, which makes a rule, and involuntarily causes the radically stronger and purer expressions to dominate the weaker. That which takes place in song, takes place in the entire spiritual domain: the stronger and purer voice strikes the keynote, and ends by getting the others in tune with it. In the domain of the sciences, also, experience shows that, after much resistance and trial, the man of stronger and purer thought prevails at length over the men of weaker and less pure thought, convinces them, and compels them to think as he thinks, or at least to yield to the result of his thinking. Many convictions are now the common property of the universal human consciousness, which once were only entertained by individual thinkers. And when we come into touch with the thinking consciousness of Buddhists, of the followers of Confusius, or of Mohammedans, we are in general so deeply conscious of our superiority, that it never occurs to us to ingratiate ourselves into their favor, but of itself and involuntarily, by our very contact with them, we make our conviction dominate them. When this does not succeed at once, this is exclusively because of their lesser susceptibility and backwardness; as soon, however, as they begin to develop and to approach maturity, they readily conform to us. According to the rule “du choc des opinions jaillit la verité,” i.e. “truth is formed from clashing opinions,” these provisional and necessary divergencies might be tolerated with equanimity, in the firm conviction that from this multiplicity unity will spring, were only the character of these divergencies among men exclusively relative and matters of degree.
But this naturally all falls away when you encounter a difference of principle, and when you come to deal with two kinds of people, i.e. with those who part company because of a difference which does not find its origin within the circle of our human consciousness, but outside of it. And the Christian religion places before us just this supremely important fact. For it speaks of a regeneration (παλιγγενεσία), of a “being begotten anew” (ἀναγέννησις), followed by an enlightening (φωτισμός), which changes man in his very being; and that indeed by a change or transformation which is effected by a supernatural cause. The explanation of this fact belongs properly to Dogmatics. But since this fact exerts an absolutely dominating influence upon our view of science, it would be a culpable blindfolding of self if we passed it by in silence. This “regeneration” breaks humanity in two, and repeals the unity of the human consciousness. If this fact of “being begotten anew,” coming in from without, establishes a radical change in the being of man, be it only potentially, and if this change exercises at the same time an influence upon his consciousness, then as far as it has or has not undergone this transformation, there is an abyss in the universal human consciousness across which no bridge can be laid. It is with this as with wild fruit trees, part of which you graft, while the rest you leave alone. From the moment of that grafting, if successful and the trees are properly pruned, the growth of the two kinds of trees is entirely different, and this difference is not merely relative and a matter of degree, but specific. It is not a better and tenderer growth in one tree producing a richer fruit, while the other tree thrives less prosperously, and consequently bears poorer fruit; but it is a difference in kind. However luxuriantly and abundantly the ungrafted tree may leaf and blossom, it will never bear the fruit which grows on the grafted tree. But however backward the grafted tree may be at first in its growth, the blossom which unfolds on its branches is fruit blossom. No tree grafts itself. The wild tree cannot change from its own kind into the kind of the grafted tree, unless a power which resides outside of the sphere of botany enters in and effects the renewal of the wild tree. This is no relative transition. A tree is not onetenth cultivated and nine-tenths wild, so that by degrees it may become entirely cultivated; it is simply grafted or not grafted, and the entire result of its future growth depends on this fundamental difference. And though from the nature of the case this figure does not escape the weak side which every metaphor has, it will nevertheless serve its purpose. It illustrates the idea, that if in the orchard of humanity a similar operation or grafting takes place, by which the character of the life-process of our human nature is potentially changed, a differentiation between man and man takes place which divides us into two kinds. And if the sublimate, which from our being arrays itself in our consciousness, may be compared to the blossom in which the tree develops its hidden beauty, then it follows that the consciousness of the grafted and the consciousness of the non-grafted humanity must be as unlike as to kind, as the blossom of the wild, and that of the true, vine.