Difficult Freedom and Radical Evil in Kant

Deceiving Reason

Joel Madore

• Publisher: Continuum
• Year: 2011
• ISBN:
  9781441111524
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Philosophy
• Subtopic: Modern Philosophy

To speak of evil is to speak of a gap between what is and what should be. If classical approaches to this problem often relied on a religious or metaphysical framework to structure their response, Kant's answer is typically modern in that it places within the subject the means of its own moral regeneration. And yet from his first essays on ethics to later, more rigorous writings on the issue, Kant also admits an undeniable fallibility and inherent weakness to humanity. This book explores this neglected existential side of Kant's work. It presents radical evil as vacillating between tragic and freedom, at the threshold of humanity. Through it's careful exegesis of the Kantian corpus, in gauging contemporary responses from both philosophical traditions, and by drawing from concrete examples of evil, the book offers a novel and accessible account of what is widely considered to be an intricate yet urgent problem of philosophy.

Chapter 1

Evil in the Critical Works

1.1 Valuing Existence

1.1.1 In Search of the Supreme Principle

We should never speak of a ‘Kantian morality’. It was not the philosopher’s intention to found or develop a new set of morals, but to make clear what was blurred. In this sense, Kant remains faithful to yet another profound Socratic intuition: after the introspective impetus of his epistemological writings and its subsequent humbling conclusions, he holds in his practical works that we have nothing new to teach to common human reason, but that we must work to make it more attentive to what morality demands of us. ‘There is, he claims, no need of science and philosophy to know what one has to do in order to be honest and good, and even wise and virtuous’ (GW, 404, 16).¹ Conceiving of a new doctrine of morals, in Kant’s view, implies the relativist claim that ethical principles could become outdated and in need of being replaced. The philosopher, however, is not looking for a singular, historically situated morality; he is searching for the supreme principle of morality (GW, 392, 5). A principle, in other words, that transcends epochs and cultures, that is neither contingent nor subjective, but unconditional. Such a principle can neither be invented nor altered, though it can be forgotten and neglected. Hence Kant’s project is not to discover the principle of morality, but to uncover it.

The supreme principle has eluded so many for so long because the search for it has been misguided. Granted, the fundamental demands of ethics are not to be found in the exclusive milieu of scientific investigation but within popular philosophy. This is not to say, however, that the basic reasons for being moral are themselves derived from personal tastes or mundane concerns. Feelings, fear of God or particular interests, for instance, cannot ground the principle of morality as they are empirical rather than a priori, that is, derived from human nature or from experience rather than from irrefutable rational concepts. As such, they are contingent, ephemeral and subjective, thus not yet the bedrock upon which should rest the unshakable edifice of morality. Should I strive to be moral, then, to ensure my well-being or my happiness? Other ethical doctrines have made an attempt to defend such a position. Aristotle, for instance, identified the highest good of morality with eudaemonia, which, though difficult to translate, suggests happiness, prosperity or flourishing²; it is ‘the state of being well and doing well in being well, of a man’s being well-favoured himself and in relation to the divine’.³ In order to flourish one must cultivate the virtues, and it is precisely in this activity of being virtuous that I achieve eudaemonia. Though they would define it in a completely different way, Utilitarians also see in well-being the object of morality. They argue that to be moral is to maximize ‘sentient welfare’ defined as a general well-being connected with both pleasure and higher order preferences (such as the cultivation of the mind).⁴ Utilitarians deduce the moral value of an action from its consequences, that is, if it actually reduces or increases our welfare. Though all this is undoubtedly an unfair characterization of otherwise intricate moral doctrines, it nevertheless seems plausible to conclude that they both hold morality to be subservient to a higher good, in this case, to some form of well-being. I am virtuous because I want to flourish; I am moral since it increases personal and general welfare. As such, neither theory provides us with a satisfactory supreme principle from a Kantian perspective: I am not moral for the sake of morality itself, but because I am aiming for some other outcome.

1.1.2 The Woe of Happiness

Kant finds strange that ‘intelligent men’ could have thought of passing off the desire for well-being as the guideline for determining whether an action is moral or not. Such a norm can only be contingent, never universal, since ‘the will of all has not one and the same object but each has his own (his own welfare)’ (CPrR, 28, 25).⁵ It is, in the philosopher’s view, the most ‘objectionable’ of moral principles ‘as it bases morality on incentives that undermine it and destroy all its sublimity’ (GW, 442, 48). Happiness is nothing more than the satisfaction of our needs and inclinations⁶ (GW, 405, 17) or the ‘rational being’s consciousness of the agreeableness of life’ (CPrR, 22, 20),⁷ a capricious feeling that varies or differs from one to another. The woe of happiness, in other words, is that it is such an indeterminate concept that, though each of us seeks it, none can identify accurately and consistently what exactly is sought (GW, 418, 28).

The desire to be happy is certainly understandable, unavoidable even according to Kant,⁸ but such a goal could never represent the unfailing standard of our moral actions. Reacting to Maria v. Herbert’s lament for lost love, Kant claims that such misfortunes (Unglück) simply happen and that in general human beings grant too much importance to happiness when it comes to determining the value of existence (Corr, 11:334, 413). In fact, it is amongst those ‘who have taken too much trouble over the happiness of life’ that suicide most commonly occurs (Ethics, 27:375, 149). Though it can invigorate my belief that life is worth living, it may also fatally abate this enthusiasm when the inevitable sufferings of existence are once more experienced. Hence, ‘there is no necessity that, so long as I live, I should live happily; but there is a necessity that, so long as I live, I should live honourably’ (Ethics, 27:373, 147). In fact, if Nature had wanted us to be exclusively happy it would not have placed reason in the very government of our will, a faculty that aims not for sensuous pleasures–the satisfaction of which is ensured by our instincts–but for something nobler and higher (GW, 396, 10).

On the contrary, it is Kant’s contention that the exercise of virtue, rather than ensuring our well-being, usually–though not necessarily–entails the very opposite. There can be no causal link between morality and happiness, the former often asking us to sacrifice the latter.⁹ Welfare can thus be considered the ‘direct opposite’ of the principle of morality (CPrR, 35, 32).¹⁰ This incompatibility between our personal welfare and the ethical demand is highly reminiscent of the same rupture imposed by Judeo-Christianity.¹¹ It is difficult, in effect, to imagine a more striking representation of this break than seeing the son of an omnipotent God reviled, tortured and crucified despite a life, we are told, of immaculate righteousness. Kant’s praise of the figure of Job is also widely known, and stems from the Hebraic hero’s resignation to the fact that his piety is not rewarded by society or even by God himself, but that it finds its value in the very sincerity with which it is carried through rather than in its expected results.

Kant’s moral philosophy is, conclusively, deontological rather than consequentialist: our actions must be disinterested, as they serve no other end than morality itself. Morality for morality! It has its own intrinsic, inalienable value, one that is far greater than any other empirical incentive, and for this reason should never be subordinated to what is necessarily beneath it. Hence the criterion that determines the worth of my action is not to be found within, but outside experience; or better yet, before experience. To be infallible and indisputable (pure and universal), the moral principle must necessarily be a priori and rational. There exists such a norm, Kant famously argues, and it is the only thing in this world or even beyond it, that could be considered good without limitation: the goodwill (GW, 393, 7). ‘Power, riches, honour, even health, the philosopher tells us, and that complete well-being and satisfaction with one’s condition called happiness, produce boldness and thereby often arrogance as well, unless a good will is present which corrects the influence of these on the mind and, in so doing, also corrects the whole principle of action and brings it into conformity with universal ends’ (GW, 393, 7).

1.1.3 The Categorical Imperative

Such is the object of the Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals: to circumscribe the possibility of a pure will, that is, of a will capable of determining itself by itself, or according to a priori rules. Broadly speaking, a goodwill is the deep concern to accomplish one’s moral obligation precisely because it is our obligation, and for no other reason. Earlier development should make this clear: a goodwill is not good because of what it accomplishes in terms of satisfaction–personal or brought to others–but because of its underlying intention to serve morality. In Kant’s own words, the goodwill is good ‘only because of its volition, that is, it is good in itself and, regarded for itself, is to be valued incomparably higher than all that could merely be brought about by it in favour of some inclination and indeed, if you will, of the sum of all inclinations’ (GW, 394, 8).¹² Our quest is nearing its end: the supreme principle of morality is this very capacity human beings have of distancing themselves from their sensible inclinations (personal interests or needs) and of all other circumstances with which experience confronts us. The principle of morality, therefore, is none other than the autonomy of the will, this ‘property (Beschaffenheit) of the will by which it is a law to itself (independently of any property of the objects of volition)’ (GW, 440, 47). To uphold my duty, that is, to exclude every influence inclination might have on my ethical discerning, however reluctantly this may be done, is what morality relentlessly asks of me (CPrR, 80, 69).

The subject, to be moral, must impose on himself a rule of conduct that differs, and sometimes contradicts, his natural façon d’être. The representation of such an objective principle that binds the will, which Kant calls an imperative, is always expressed by the verb ‘sollen’ (‘ought’), a verb that indicates the relation of a law to a will that, in its subjective nature, can also be determined by sensibility (GW, 412–413, 24). These imperatives are unavoidable in every aspect of our lives: I draw a blueprint before building a house; I consult the recipe before baking; in short, I must first determine what I ought to do–and duly abide by these plans–in order to succeed in any of my undertakings. There are two kinds of imperatives. Hypothetical imperatives express the practical necessity of an action as the means to obtain something that we wish for. In other words, he who wills the end also wills the means. These imperatives are conditional (I ought to do ‘x’ to achieve ‘y’) and relate to either skill (a technical imperative that determines how to best achieve my end) or prudence (a pragmatic imperative that establishes how to maximize my well-being). Whatever content these imperatives may have is determined in situ. Categorical imperatives, on the other hand, represent the practical necessity of an action considered as good in itself.¹³ They command absolutely (I ought to do ‘x’ for the sake of ‘x’) and, therefore, place the value of the action not in what it achieves but in what it intends. ‘[A]n action from duty has its moral worth not in the purpose to be attained by it but in the maxim in accordance with which it is decided upon …’ (GW, 399–400, 13).¹⁴

The categorical imperative is an unconditional, objective and hence universally valid necessity; in other words, it is a law. Whatever situation might arise, the subject is always-already aware of how he should respond. How can this be? How can I know in advance what morality expects of me even before I am confronted with a particular ethical problem? Because I know that, since the moral law (the categorical imperative) is pure and a priori, that it precludes egoistic needs and interests, any other rational and autonomous being in the same position and properly exercising his freedom (i.e. abstracting from experience) would necessarily choose the same course of action. I concede that the precise action can only be determined once the particular dilemma is known, but the form it should take, or the very intention underlying it always commands the same answer: to universalize my principles of action, or my maxims: ‘There is, therefore, only a single categorical imperative and it is this: act only in accordance with that maxim through which you can at the same time will that it become a universal law’ (GW, 421, 31).

In sum, Kant’s moral theory is essentially meant to articulate the possibility of imperatives of action that can be formally represented, and that are not conditioned by empirical considerations. This is not to say that the subject is able to leave behind all that is sensible in him. We remain both phenomenal and noumenal beings, that is, beings subjected to the laws of nature and yet capable of abiding by rules we set by ourselves and to ourselves. Kant would thus agree with Sade: we are not only immersed in nature but an integral part of it. Does this imply that our actions ‘ought’ to follow Nature’s laws? Should we, with Sade, reduce morality to principles of life that are in complete harmony with our basic instincts? The Marquis is misled: incest could never be the ultimate deliverance from the shackles of morality. Freedom lies not in the physicality of love, however seductive or extreme its manifestations may be. Intense passions and salacious impulses are only a further indication of the subjugating power of our affects rather than an expression of our freedom.¹⁵

Such emphasis on autonomy should not be interpreted as sanctimonious reproach contra sensuality, but as the expression of a belief in humanity, more precisely, in its capacity to rise above any form of dependence other than the obligation it sets to itself. To do one’s duty ‘can be nothing less than what elevates a human being above himself (as a part of the sensible world)’ (CPrR, 86, 74), and the constraint exercised by the lawgiving of our reason is what makes this elevation possible (CPrR, 80–81, 69).¹⁶ An animal, with its instinct, is already all it can be. A human being, however, can discipline himself and forge his moral character through the use of his own reason, and thereby transcend mere animality (Educ, 441, 2). It is not a matter here of exposing what is forbidden, but of pleading for what more is possible. To put it otherwise, Kant is not the prosecutor of what one shouldn’t do, he is the apologist of what we all can do, of what ought to be done over and above the natural, predestined course of our existence.

‘Ought’ expresses a kind of necessity and of connection with grounds which is found nowhere else in the whole of nature. (…) We cannot say that anything in nature ought to be other than what in all these timerelations it actually is. When we have the course of nature alone in view, ‘ought’ has no meaning whatsoever. It is just as absurd to ask what ought to happen in the natural world as to ask what properties a circle ought to have (A547/B575).

The rational subject, contrary to any other living ‘being’, has the prerogative of either abiding by his appetites or any other heteronomous needs, or of imposing to himself an alternative rule of conduct, one that–quite remarkably!–puts disinterested obligation before personal interest. ‘Everything in nature works in accordance with laws. Only a rational being has the capacity to act in accordance with the representation of laws, that is, in accordance with principles, or has a will’ (GW, 412, 24).

There is perhaps something abrasive, at least at first sight, concerning Kant’s thoughts on morality. What is defended is a seemingly ascetic philosophy recommend...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Continuum Studies
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• Acknowledgements
• List of Abbreviated Works
• Introduction
• Chapter 1   Evil in the Critical Works
• Chapter 2   The Moral Def cit
• Chapter 3   The Inherent Propensity
• Chapter 4   Freedom in Question
• Chapter 5   In Reality. . .
• Chapter 6   Stretching the Limits
• Conclusion
• Notes
• Bibliography
• Index