Maq Masi Blog

A philosophical reflection on materialism, human nature, and the tension between perception and practice

The debate between Karl Marx and Ludwig Feuerbach is often presented as a turning point in modern thought, where materialism was transformed from a theory of contemplation into a philosophy of action. But perhaps the story is more complex. Rather than Marx simply correcting Feuerbach, what we see is two different conceptions of the human being — and two kinds of generalisation about what it means to be human.

Feuerbach’s materialism was grounded in a desire to bring philosophy back to the real world. He rejected religious idealism and insisted that man was not a soul trapped in a body, but a sensuous, feeling, thinking being — part of nature, not above it. His aim was to replace metaphysics with anthropology. For him, religion was a projection of human qualities onto an imagined divine being. In bringing God back to earth, Feuerbach wanted us to recognise ourselves in our humanity, to see in love, empathy, and perception the true substance of the human condition.

Marx admired this break with abstraction but found it insufficient. In his Theses on Feuerbach, Marx argued that Feuerbach’s man was too abstract — not socially situated, not historically formed. He accused Feuerbach of treating the human as an isolated, contemplative being who observed the world but did not act on it. For Marx, the essence of man was not just to feel or to perceive but to work, to labour, to change both himself and the world through practical activity. In this view, man was a dynamic social agent, shaped by economic conditions and capable of revolutionary transformation.

But here lies a tension. In rejecting Feuerbach’s “man in general,” Marx posits another generalisation: that human beings are shaped by their material and historical conditions. This, too, is a claim about man in general. It does not fix human nature in feeling, but it does fix it in process. Even if Marx insists that human nature is not a fixed essence, he still describes it in universal terms — as conditioned, active, and social. So, rather than escaping generalisation, Marx replaces one kind with another. He does not abolish the idea of human nature; he reframes it.

Moreover, Marx’s claim that truth must be proven in practice has often been read as a rejection of theory. But this may be an overstatement. To observe, to reflect, to contemplate — these, too, are forms of engagement. They are not opposed to action but often prepare the ground for it. Feuerbach’s emphasis on perception and experience was not a denial of human doing, but a different way of grounding philosophy in life. He did not call for revolution, but that was never his goal. His materialism was not revolutionary, but it was still real.

In this light, Marx’s critique appears both insightful and impatient. He wanted Feuerbach to go further, to link human nature not only to feeling but to production, labour, and social structure. Yet in demanding that, Marx perhaps misunderstood the purpose of Feuerbach’s project. He expected a political philosophy from a thinker whose goal was existential and ethical.

This doesn’t make Marx wrong. It simply means that their disagreement was not over facts, but over emphasis. Feuerbach sought to humanise philosophy by locating it in the body and the senses. Marx sought to transform the world by understanding how bodies and senses are shaped by society. One speaks to what we are; the other, to what we do.

And perhaps both are right. The human being is not only a product of history but also a perceiving presence in the world. The hand that builds is guided by the eye that sees. Praxis and perception are not enemies. They are companions. To change the world, we must first notice it. And to notice it rightly, we must understand how we are already part of its making.

Feuerbach saw man as a sensuous, self-aware being. Marx saw man as a historically conditioned agent of change. Both speak to something essential. Perhaps the real task is not to choose between them, but to hold them together: to see that we are, at once, shaped and shaping — general and particular — thinkers and doers — bodies with minds, and minds with work to do.