CHAPTER II. The Canon of Pure Reason.
It is a humiliating consideration for human reason that it is
incompetent to discover truth by means of pure speculation, but, on
the contrary, stands in need of discipline to check its deviations
from the straight path and to expose the illusions which it
originates. But, on the other hand, this consideration ought to
elevate and to give it confidence, for this discipline is exercised by
itself alone, and it is subject to the censure of no other power.
The bounds, moreover, which it is forced to set to its speculative
exercise, form likewise a check upon the fallacious pretensions of
opponents; and thus what remains of its possessions, after these
exaggerated claims have been disallowed, is secure from attack or
usurpation. The greatest, and perhaps the only, use of all
philosophy of pure reason is, accordingly, of a purely negative
character. It is not an organon for the extension, but a discipline
for the determination, of the limits of its exercise; and without
laying claim to the discovery of new truth, it has the modest merit of
guarding against error.
At the same time, there must be some source of positive cognitions
which belong to the domain of pure reason and which become the
causes of error only from our mistaking their true character, while
they form the goal towards which reason continually strives. How
else can we account for the inextinguishable desire in the human
mind to find a firm footing in some region beyond the limits of the
world of experience? It hopes to attain to the possession of a
knowledge in which it has the deepest interest. It enters upon the
path of pure speculation; but in vain. We have some reason, however,
to expect that, in the only other way that lies open to it- the path
of practical reason- it may meet with better success.
I understand by a canon a list of the a priori principles of the
proper employment of certain faculties of cognition. Thus general
logic, in its analytical department, is a formal canon for the
faculties of understanding and reason. In the same way, Transcendental
Analytic was seen to be a canon of the pure understanding; for it
alone is competent to enounce true a priori synthetical cognitions.
But, when no proper employment of a faculty of cognition is
possible, no canon can exist. But the synthetical cognition of pure
speculative reason is, as has been shown, completely impossible. There
cannot, therefore, exist any canon for the speculative exercise of
this faculty- for its speculative exercise is entirely dialectical;
and, consequently, transcendental logic, in this respect, is merely
a discipline, and not a canon. If, then, there is any proper mode of
employing the faculty of pure reason- in which case there must be a
canon for this faculty- this canon will relate, not to the
speculative, but to the practical use of reason. This canon we now
proceed to investigate.
SECTION I. Of the Ultimate End of the Pure Use of Reason.
There exists in the faculty of reason a natural desire to venture
beyond the field of experience, to attempt to reach the utmost
bounds of all cognition by the help of ideas alone, and not to rest
satisfied until it has fulfilled its course and raised the sum of
its cognitions into a self-subsistent systematic whole. Is the
motive for this endeavour to be found in its speculative, or in its
practical interests alone?
Setting aside, at present, the results of the labours of pure reason
in its speculative exercise, I shall merely inquire regarding the
problems the solution of which forms its ultimate aim, whether reached
or not, and in relation to which all other aims are but partial and
intermediate. These highest aims must, from the nature of reason,
possess complete unity; otherwise the highest interest of humanity
could not be successfully promoted.
The transcendental speculation of reason relates to three things:
the freedom of the will, the immortality of the soul, and the
existence of God. The speculative interest which reason has in those
questions is very small; and, for its sake alone, we should not
undertake the labour of transcendental investigation- a labour full of
toil and ceaseless struggle. We should be loth to undertake this
labour, because the discoveries we might make would not be of the
smallest use in the sphere of concrete or physical investigation. We
may find out that the will is free, but this knowledge only relates to
the intelligible cause of our volition. As regards the phenomena or
expressions of this will, that is, our actions, we are bound, in
obedience to an inviolable maxim, without which reason cannot be
employed in the sphere of experience, to explain these in the same way
as we explain all the other phenomena of nature, that is to say,
according to its unchangeable laws. We may have discovered the
spirituality and immortality of the soul, but we cannot employ this
knowledge to explain the phenomena of this life, nor the peculiar
nature of the future, because our conception of an incorporeal
nature is purely negative and does not add anything to our
knowledge, and the only inferences to be drawn from it are purely
fictitious. If, again, we prove the existence of a supreme
intelligence, we should be able from it to make the conformity to aims
existing in the arrangement of the world comprehensible; but we should
not be justified in deducing from it any particular arrangement or
disposition, or inferring any where it is not perceived. For it is a
necessary rule of the speculative use of reason that we must not
overlook natural causes, or refuse to listen to the teaching of
experience, for the sake of deducing what we know and perceive from
something that transcends all our knowledge. In one word, these
three propositions are, for the speculative reason, always
transcendent, and cannot be employed as immanent principles in
relation to the objects of experience; they are, consequently, of no
use to us in this sphere, being but the valueless results of the
severe but unprofitable efforts of reason.
If, then, the actual cognition of these three cardinal
propositions is perfectly useless, while Reason uses her utmost
endeavours to induce us to admit them, it is plain that their real
value and importance relate to our practical, and not to our
speculative interest.
I term all that is possible through free will, practical. But if the
conditions of the exercise of free volition are empirical, reason
can have only a regulative, and not a constitutive, influence upon it,
and is serviceable merely for the introduction of unity into its
empirical laws. In the moral philosophy of prudence, for example,
the sole business of reason is to bring about a union of all the ends,
which are aimed at by our inclinations, into one ultimate end- that of
happiness- and to show the agreement which should exist among the
means of attaining that end. In this sphere, accordingly, reason
cannot present to us any other than pragmatical laws of free action,
for our guidance towards the aims set up by the senses, and is
incompetent to give us laws which are pure and determined completely a
priori. On the other hand, pure practical laws, the ends of which have
been given by reason entirely a priori, and which are not
empirically conditioned, but are, on the contrary, absolutely
imperative in their nature, would be products of pure reason. Such are
the moral laws; and these alone belong to the sphere of the
practical exercise of reason, and admit of a canon.
All the powers of reason, in the sphere of what may be termed pure
philosophy, are, in fact, directed to the three above-mentioned
problems alone. These again have a still higher end- the answer to the
question, what we ought to do, if the will is free, if there is a
God and a future world. Now, as this problem relates to our in
reference to the highest aim of humanity, it is evident that the
ultimate intention of nature, in the constitution of our reason, has
been directed to the moral alone.
We must take care, however, in turning our attention to an object
which is foreign* to the sphere of transcendental philosophy, not to
injure the unity of our system by digressions, nor, on the other hand,
to fail in clearness, by saying too little on the new subject of
discussion. I hope to avoid both extremes, by keeping as close as
possible to the transcendental, and excluding all psychological,
that is, empirical, elements.
*All practical conceptions relate to objects of pleasure and pain,
and consequently- in an indirect manner, at least- to objects of
feeling. But as feeling is not a faculty of representation, but lies
out of the sphere of our powers of cognition, the elements of our
judgements, in so far as they relate to pleasure or pain, that is, the
elements of our practical judgements, do not belong to
transcendental philosophy, which has to do with pure a priori
cognitions alone.
I have to remark, in the first place, that at present I treat of the
conception of freedom in the practical sense only, and set aside the
corresponding transcendental conception, which cannot be employed as a
ground of explanation in the phenomenal world, but is itself a problem
for pure reason. A will is purely animal (arbitrium brutum) when it is
determined by sensuous impulses or instincts only, that is, when it is
determined in a pathological manner. A will, which can be determined
independently of sensuous impulses, consequently by motives
presented by reason alone, is called a free will (arbitrium
liberum); and everything which is connected with this free will,
either as principle or consequence, is termed practical. The existence
of practical freedom can be proved from experience alone. For the
human will is not determined by that alone which immediately affects
the senses; on the contrary, we have the power, by calling up the
notion of what is useful or hurtful in a more distant relation, of
overcoming the immediate impressions on our sensuous faculty of
desire. But these considerations of what is desirable in relation to
our whole state, that is, is in the end good and useful, are based
entirely upon reason. This faculty, accordingly, enounces laws,
which are imperative or objective laws of freedom and which tell us
what ought to take place, thus distinguishing themselves from the laws
of nature, which relate to that which does take place. The laws of
freedom or of free will are hence termed practical laws.
Whether reason is not itself, in the actual delivery of these
laws, determined in its turn by other influences, and whether the
action which, in relation to sensuous impulses, we call free, may not,
in relation to higher and more remote operative causes, really form
a part of nature- these are questions which do not here concern us.
They are purely speculative questions; and all we have to do, in the
practical sphere, is to inquire into the rule of conduct which
reason has to present. Experience demonstrates to us the existence
of practical freedom as one of the causes which exist in nature,
that is, it shows the causal power of reason in the determination of
the will. The idea of transcendental freedom, on the contrary,
requires that reason- in relation to its causal power of commencing
a series of phenomena- should be independent of all sensuous
determining causes; and thus it seems to be in opposition to the law
of nature and to all possible experience. It therefore remains a
problem for the human mind. But this problem does not concern reason
in its practical use; and we have, therefore, in a canon of pure
reason, to do with only two questions, which relate to the practical
interest of pure reason: Is there a God? and, Is there a future
life? The question of transcendental freedom is purely speculative,
and we may therefore set it entirely aside when we come to treat of
practical reason. Besides, we have already discussed this subject in
the antinomy of pure reason.
SECTION II. Of the Ideal of the Summum Bonum as a Determining
Ground of the Ultimate End of Pure Reason.
Reason conducted us, in its speculative use, through the field of
experience and, as it can never find complete satisfaction in that
sphere, from thence to speculative ideas- which, however, in the end
brought us back again to experience, and thus fulfilled the purpose of
reason, in a manner which, though useful, was not at all in accordance
with our expectations. It now remains for us to consider whether
pure reason can be employed in a practical sphere, and whether it will
here conduct us to those ideas which attain the highest ends of pure
reason, as we have just stated them. We shall thus ascertain
whether, from the point of view of its practical interest, reason
may not be able to supply us with that which, on the speculative side,
it wholly denies us.
The whole interest of reason, speculative as well as practical, is
centred in the three following questions:
1. WHAT CAN I KNOW?
2. WHAT OUGHT I TO DO?
3. WHAT MAY I HOPE?
The first question is purely speculative. We have, as I flatter
myself, exhausted all the replies of which it is susceptible, and have
at last found the reply with which reason must content itself, and
with which it ought to be content, so long as it pays no regard to the
practical. But from the two great ends to the attainment of which
all these efforts of pure reason were in fact directed, we remain just
as far removed as if we had consulted our ease and declined the task
at the outset. So far, then, as knowledge is concerned, thus much,
at least, is established, that, in regard to those two problems, it
lies beyond our reach.
The second question is purely practical. As such it may indeed
fall within the province of pure reason, but still it is not
transcendental, but moral, and consequently cannot in itself form
the subject of our criticism.
The third question: If I act as I ought to do, what may I then
hope?- is at once practical and theoretical. The practical forms a
clue to the answer of the theoretical, and- in its highest form-
speculative question. For all hoping has happiness for its object
and stands in precisely the same relation to the practical and the law
of morality as knowing to the theoretical cognition of things and
the law of nature. The former arrives finally at the conclusion that
something is (which determines the ultimate end), because something
ought to take place; the latter, that something is (which operates
as the highest cause), because something does take place.
Happiness is the satisfaction of all our desires; extensive, in
regard to their multiplicity; intensive, in regard to their degree;
and protensive, in regard to their duration. The practical law based
on the motive of happiness I term a pragmatical law (or prudential
rule); but that law, assuming such to exist, which has no other motive
than the worthiness of being happy, I term a moral or ethical law. The
first tells us what we have to do, if we wish to become possessed of
happiness; the second dictates how we ought to act, in order to
deserve happiness. The first is based upon empirical principles; for
it is only by experience that I can learn either what inclinations
exist which desire satisfaction, or what are the natural means of
satisfying them. The second takes no account of our desires or the
means of satisfying them, and regards only the freedom of a rational
being, and the necessary conditions under which alone this freedom can
harmonize with the distribution of happiness according to
principles. This second law may therefore rest upon mere ideas of pure
reason, and may be cognized a priori.
I assume that there are pure moral laws which determine, entirely
a priori (without regard to empirical motives, that is, to happiness),
the conduct of a rational being, or in other words, to use which it
makes of its freedom, and that these laws are absolutely imperative
(not merely hypothetically, on the supposition of other empirical
ends), and therefore in all respects necessary. I am warranted in
assuming this, not only by the arguments of the most enlightened
moralists, but by the moral judgement of every man who will make the
attempt to form a distinct conception of such a law.
Pure reason, then, contains, not indeed in its speculative, but in
its practical, or, more strictly, its moral use, principles of the
possibility of experience, of such actions, namely, as, in
accordance with ethical precepts, might be met with in the history
of man. For since reason commands that such actions should take place,
it must be possible for them to take place; and hence a particular
kind of systematic unity- the moral- must be possible. We have
found, it is true, that the systematic unity of nature could not be
established according to speculative principles of reason, because,
while reason possesses a causal power in relation to freedom, it has
none in relation to the whole sphere of nature; and, while moral
principles of reason can produce free actions, they cannot produce
natural laws. It is, then, in its practical, but especially in its
moral use, that the principles of pure reason possess objective
reality.
I call the world a moral world, in so far as it may be in accordance
with all the ethical laws- which, by virtue of the freedom of
reasonable beings, it can be, and according to the necessary laws of
morality it ought to be. But this world must be conceived only as an
intelligible world, inasmuch as abstraction is therein made of all
conditions (ends), and even of all impediments to morality (the
weakness or pravity of human nature). So far, then, it is a mere idea-
though still a practical idea- which may have, and ought to have, an
influence on the world of sense, so as to bring it as far as
possible into conformity with itself. The idea of a moral world has,
therefore, objective reality, not as referring to an object of
intelligible intuition- for of such an object we can form no
conception whatever- but to the world of sense- conceived, however, as
an object of pure reason in its practical use- and to a corpus
mysticum of rational beings in it, in so far as the liberum
arbitrium of the individual is placed, under and by virtue of moral
laws, in complete systematic unity both with itself and with the
freedom of all others.
That is the answer to the first of the two questions of pure
reason which relate to its practical interest: Do that which will
render thee worthy of happiness. The second question is this: If I
conduct myself so as not to be unworthy of happiness, may I hope
thereby to obtain happiness? In order to arrive at the solution of
this question, we must inquire whether the principles of pure
reason, which prescribe a priori the law, necessarily also connect
this hope with it.
I say, then, that just as the moral principles are necessary
according to reason in its practical use, so it is equally necessary
according to reason in its theoretical use to assume that every one
has ground to hope for happiness in the measure in which he has made
himself worthy of it in his conduct, and that therefore the system
of morality is inseparably (though only in the idea of pure reason)
connected with that of happiness.
Now in an intelligible, that is, in the moral world, in the
conception of which we make abstraction of all the impediments to
morality (sensuous desires), such a system of happiness, connected
with and proportioned to morality, may be conceived as necessary,
because freedom of volition- partly incited, and partly restrained
by moral laws- would be itself the cause of general happiness; and
thus rational beings, under the guidance of such principles, would
be themselves the authors both of their own enduring welfare and
that of others. But such a system of self-rewarding morality is only
an idea, the carrying out of which depends upon the condition that
every one acts as he ought; in other words, that all actions of
reasonable beings be such as they would be if they sprung from a
Supreme Will, comprehending in, or under, itself all particular wills.
But since the moral law is binding on each individual in the use of
his freedom of volition, even if others should not act in conformity
with this law, neither the nature of things, nor the causality of
actions and their relation to morality, determine how the consequences
of these actions will be related to happiness; and the necessary
connection of the hope of happiness with the unceasing endeavour to
become worthy of happiness, cannot be cognized by reason, if we take
nature alone for our guide. This connection can be hoped for only on
the assumption that the cause of nature is a supreme reason, which
governs according to moral laws.
I term the idea of an intelligence in which the morally most perfect
will, united with supreme blessedness, is the cause of all happiness
in the world, so far as happiness stands in strict } relation to
morality (as the worthiness of being happy), the ideal of the
supreme Good. supreme original good, that pure reason can find the
ground of the practically necessary connection of both elements of the
highest derivative good, and accordingly of an intelligible, that
is, moral world. Now since we are necessitated by reason to conceive
ourselves as belonging to such a world, while the senses present to us
nothing but a world of phenomena, we must assume the former as a
consequence of our conduct in the world of sense (since the world of
sense gives us no hint of it), and therefore as future in relation
to us. Thus God and a future life are two hypotheses which,
according to the principles of pure reason, are inseparable from the
obligation which this reason imposes upon us.
Morality per se constitutes a system. But we can form no system of
happiness, except in so far as it is dispensed in strict proportion to
morality. But this is only possible in the intelligible world, under a
wise author and ruler. Such a ruler, together with life in such a
world, which we must look upon as future, reason finds itself
compelled to assume; or it must regard the moral laws as idle
dreams, since the necessary consequence which this same reason
connects with them must, without this hypothesis, fall to the
ground. Hence also the moral laws are universally regarded as
commands, which they could not be did they not connect a priori
adequate consequences with their dictates, and thus carry with them
promises and threats. But this, again, they could not do, did they not
reside in a necessary being, as the Supreme Good, which alone can
render such a teleological unity possible.
Leibnitz termed the world, when viewed in relation to the rational
beings which it contains, and the moral relations in which they
stand to each other, under the government of the Supreme Good, the
kingdom of Grace, and distinguished it from the kingdom of Nature,
in which these rational beings live, under moral laws, indeed, but
expect no other consequences from their actions than such as follow
according to the course of nature in the world of sense. To view
ourselves, therefore, as in the kingdom of grace, in which all
happiness awaits us, except in so far as we ourselves limit our
participation in it by actions which render us unworthy of
happiness, is a practically necessary idea of reason.
Practical laws, in so far as they are subjective grounds of actions,
that is, subjective principles, are termed maxims. The judgements of
moral according to in its purity and ultimate results are framed
according ideas; the observance of its laws, according to according to
maxims.
The whole course of our life must be subject to moral maxims; but
this is impossible, unless with the moral law, which is a mere idea,
reason connects an efficient cause which ordains to all conduct
which is in conformity with the moral law an issue either in this or
in another life, which is in exact conformity with our highest aims.
Thus, without a God and without a world, invisible to us now, but
hoped for, the glorious ideas of morality are, indeed, objects of
approbation and of admiration, but cannot be the springs of purpose
and action. For they do not satisfy all the aims which are natural
to every rational being, and which are determined a priori by pure
reason itself, and necessary.
Happiness alone is, in the view of reason, far from being the
complete good. Reason does not approve of it (however much inclination
may desire it), except as united with desert. On the other hand,
morality alone, and with it, mere desert, is likewise far from being
the complete good. To make it complete, he who conducts himself in a
manner not unworthy of happiness, must be able to hope for the
possession of happiness. Even reason, unbiased by private ends, or
interested considerations, cannot judge otherwise, if it puts itself
in the place of a being whose business it is to dispense all happiness
to others. For in the practical idea both points are essentially
combined, though in such a way that participation in happiness is
rendered possible by the moral disposition, as its condition, and
not conversely, the moral disposition by the prospect of happiness.
For a disposition which should require the prospect of happiness as
its necessary condition would not be moral, and hence also would not
be worthy of complete happiness- a happiness which, in the view of
reason, recognizes no limitation but such as arises from our own
immoral conduct.
Happiness, therefore, in exact proportion with the morality of
rational beings (whereby they are made worthy of happiness),
constitutes alone the supreme good of a world into which we absolutely
must transport ourselves according to the commands of pure but
practical reason. This world is, it is true, only an intelligible
world; for of such a systematic unity of ends as it requires, the
world of sense gives us no hint. Its reality can be based on nothing
else but the hypothesis of a supreme original good. In it
independent reason, equipped with all the sufficiency of a supreme
cause, founds, maintains, and fulfils the universal order of things,
with the most perfect teleological harmony, however much this order
may be hidden from us in the world of sense.
This moral theology has the peculiar advantage, in contrast with
speculative theology, of leading inevitably to the conception of a
sole, perfect, and rational First Cause, whereof speculative
theology does not give us any indication on objective grounds, far
less any convincing evidence. For we find neither in transcendental
nor in natural theology, however far reason may lead us in these,
any ground to warrant us in assuming the existence of one only
Being, which stands at the head of all natural causes, and on which
these are entirely dependent. On the other band, if we take our
stand on moral unity as a necessary law of the universe, and from this
point of view consider what is necessary to give this law adequate
efficiency and, for us, obligatory force, we must come to the
conclusion that there is one only supreme will, which comprehends
all these laws in itself. For how, under different wills, should we
find complete unity of ends? This will must be omnipotent, that all
nature and its relation to morality in the world may be subject to it;
omniscient, that it may have knowledge of the most secret feelings and
their moral worth; omnipresent, that it may be at hand to supply every
necessity to which the highest weal of the world may give rise;
eternal, that this harmony of nature and liberty may never fail; and
so on.
But this systematic unity of ends in this world of intelligences-
which, as mere nature, is only a world of sense, but, as a system of
freedom of volition, may be termed an intelligible, that is, moral
world (regnum gratiae)- leads inevitably also to the teleological
unity of all things which constitute this great whole, according to
universal natural laws- just as the unity of the former is according
to universal and necessary moral laws- and unites the practical with
the speculative reason. The world must be represented as having
originated from an idea, if it is to harmonize with that use of reason
without which we cannot even consider ourselves as worthy of reason-
namely, the moral use, which rests entirely on the idea of the supreme
good. Hence the investigation of nature receives a teleological
direction, and becomes, in its widest extension, physico-theology. But
this, taking its rise in moral order as a unity founded on the essence
of freedom, and not accidentally instituted by external commands,
establishes the teleological view of nature on grounds which must be
inseparably connected with the internal possibility of things. This
gives rise to a transcendental theology, which takes the ideal of
the highest ontological perfection as a principle of systematic unity;
and this principle connects all things according to universal and
necessary natural laws, because all things have their origin in the
absolute necessity of the one only Primal Being.
What use can we make of our understanding, even in respect of
experience, if we do not propose ends to ourselves? But the highest
ends are those of morality, and it is only pure reason that can give
us the knowledge of these. Though supplied with these, and putting
ourselves under their guidance, we can make no teleological use of the
knowledge of nature, as regards cognition, unless nature itself has
established teleological unity. For without this unity we should not
even possess reason, because we should have no school for reason,
and no cultivation through objects which afford the materials for
its conceptions. But teleological unity is a necessary unity, and
founded on the essence of the individual will itself. Hence this will,
which is the condition of the application of this unity in concreto,
must be so likewise. In this way the transcendental enlargement of our
rational cognition would be, not the cause, but merely the effect of
the practical teleology which pure reason imposes upon us.
Hence, also, we find in the history of human reason that, before the
moral conceptions were sufficiently purified and determined, and
before men had attained to a perception of the systematic unity of
ends according to these conceptions and from necessary principles, the
knowledge of nature, and even a considerable amount of intellectual
culture in many other sciences, could produce only rude and vague
conceptions of the Deity, sometimes even admitting of an astonishing
indifference with regard to this question altogether. But the more
enlarged treatment of moral ideas, which was rendered necessary by the
extreme pure moral law of our religion, awakened the interest, and
thereby quickened the perceptions of reason in relation to this
object. In this way, and without the help either of an extended
acquaintance with nature, or of a reliable transcendental insight (for
these have been wanting in all ages), a conception of the Divine Being
was arrived at, which we now bold to be the correct one, not because
speculative reason convinces us of its correctness, but because it
accords with the moral principles of reason. Thus it is to pure
reason, but only in its practical use, that we must ascribe the
merit of having connected with our highest interest a cognition, of
which mere speculation was able only to form a conjecture, but the
validity of which it was unable to establish- and of having thereby
rendered it, not indeed a demonstrated dogma, but a hypothesis
absolutely necessary to the essential ends of reason.
But if practical reason has reached this elevation, and has attained
to the conception of a sole Primal Being as the supreme good, it
must not, therefore, imagine that it has transcended the empirical
conditions of its application, and risen to the immediate cognition of
new objects; it must not presume to start from the conception which it
has gained, and to deduce from it the moral laws themselves. For it
was these very laws, the internal practical necessity of which led
us to the hypothesis of an independent cause, or of a wise ruler of
the universe, who should give them effect. Hence we are not entitled
to regard them as accidental and derived from the mere will of the
ruler, especially as we have no conception of such a will, except as
formed in accordance with these laws. So far, then, as practical
reason has the right to conduct us, we shall not look upon actions
as binding on us, because they are the commands of God, but we shall
regard them as divine commands, because we are internally bound by
them. We shall study freedom under the teleological unity which
accords with principles of reason; we shall look upon ourselves as
acting in conformity with the divine will only in so far as we hold
sacred the moral law which reason teaches us from the nature of
actions themselves, and we shall believe that we can obey that will
only by promoting the weal of the universe in ourselves and in others.
Moral theology is, therefore, only of immanent use. It teaches us to
fulfil our destiny here in the world, by placing ourselves in
harmony with the general system of ends, and warns us against the
fanaticism, nay, the crime of depriving reason of its legislative
authority in the moral conduct of life, for the purpose of directly
connecting this authority with the idea of the Supreme Being. For this
would be, not an immanent, but a transcendent use of moral theology,
and, like the transcendent use of mere speculation, would inevitably
pervert and frustrate the ultimate ends of reason.
SECTION III. Of Opinion, Knowledge, and Belief.
The holding of a thing to be true is a phenomenon in our
understanding which may rest on objective grounds, but requires, also,
subjective causes in the mind of the person judging. If a judgement is
valid for every rational being, then its ground is objectively
sufficient, and it is termed a conviction. If, on the other hand, it
has its ground in the particular character of the subject, it is
termed a persuasion.
Persuasion is a mere illusion, the ground of the judgement, which
lies solely in the subject, being regarded as objective. Hence a
judgement of this kind has only private validity- is only valid for
the individual who judges, and the holding of a thing to be true in
this way cannot be communicated. But truth depends upon agreement with
the object, and consequently the judgements of all understandings,
if true, must be in agreement with each other (consentientia uni
tertio consentiunt inter se). Conviction may, therefore, be
distinguished, from an external point of view, from persuasion, by the
possibility of communicating it and by showing its validity for the
reason of every man; for in this case the presumption, at least,
arises that the agreement of all judgements with each other, in
spite of the different characters of individuals, rests upon the
common ground of the agreement of each with the object, and thus the
correctness of the judgement is established.
Persuasion, accordingly, cannot be subjectively distinguished from
conviction, that is, so long as the subject views its judgement simply
as a phenomenon of its own mind. But if we inquire whether the grounds
of our judgement, which are valid for us, produce the same effect on
the reason of others as on our own, we have then the means, though
only subjective means, not, indeed, of producing conviction, but of
detecting the merely private validity of the judgement; in other
words, of discovering that there is in it the element of mere
persuasion.
If we can, in addition to this, develop the subjective causes of the
judgement, which we have taken for its objective grounds, and thus
explain the deceptive judgement as a phenomenon in our mind, apart
altogether from the objective character of the object, we can then
expose the illusion and need be no longer deceived by it, although, if
its subjective cause lies in our nature, we cannot hope altogether
to escape its influence.
I can only maintain, that is, affirm as necessarily valid for
every one, that which produces conviction. Persuasion I may keep for
myself, if it is agreeable to me; but I cannot, and ought not, to
attempt to impose it as binding upon others.
Holding for true, or the subjective validity of a judgement in
relation to conviction (which is, at the same time, objectively
valid), has the three following degrees: opinion, belief, and
knowledge. Opinion is a consciously insufficient judgement,
subjectively as well as objectively. Belief is subjectively
sufficient, but is recognized as being objectively insufficient.
Knowledge is both subjectively and objectively sufficient.
Subjective sufficiency is termed conviction (for myself); objective
sufficiency is termed certainty (for all). I need not dwell longer
on the explanation of such simple conceptions.
I must never venture to be of opinion, without knowing something, at
least, by which my judgement, in itself merely problematical, is
brought into connection with the truth- which connection, although not
perfect, is still something more than an arbitrary fiction.
Moreover, the law of such a connection must be certain. For if, in
relation to this law, I have nothing more than opinion, my judgement
is but a play of the imagination, without the least relation to truth.
In the judgements of pure reason, opinion has no place. For, as they
do not rest on empirical grounds and as the sphere of pure reason is
that of necessary truth and a priori cognition, the principle of
connection in it requires universality and necessity, and consequently
perfect certainty- otherwise we should have no guide to the truth at
all. Hence it is absurd to have an opinion in pure mathematics; we
must know, or abstain from forming a judgement altogether. The case is
the same with the maxims of morality. For we must not hazard an action
on the mere opinion that it is allowed, but we must know it to be so.
In the transcendental sphere of reason, on the other hand, the
term opinion is too weak, while the word knowledge is too strong. From
the merely speculative point of view, therefore, we cannot form a
judgement at all. For the subjective grounds of a judgement, such as
produce belief, cannot be admitted in speculative inquiries,
inasmuch as they cannot stand without empirical support and are
incapable of being communicated to others in equal measure.
But it is only from the practical point of view that a theoretically
insufficient judgement can be termed belief. Now the practical
reference is either to skill or to morality; to the former, when the
end proposed is arbitrary and accidental, to the latter, when it is
absolutely necessary.
If we propose to ourselves any end whatever, the conditions of its
attainment are hypothetically necessary. The necessity is
subjectively, but still only comparatively, sufficient, if I am
acquainted with no other conditions under which the end can be
attained. On the other hand, it is sufficient, absolutely and for
every one, if I know for certain that no one can be acquainted with
any other conditions under which the attainment of the proposed end
would be possible. In the former case my supposition- my judgement
with regard to certain conditions- is a merely accidental belief; in
the latter it is a necessary belief. The physician must pursue some
course in the case of a patient who is in danger, but is ignorant of
the nature of the disease. He observes the symptoms, and concludes,
according to the best of his judgement, that it is a case of phthisis.
His belief is, even in his own judgement, only contingent: another man
might, perhaps come nearer the truth. Such a belief, contingent
indeed, but still forming the ground of the actual use of means for
the attainment of certain ends, I term Pragmatical belief.
The usual test, whether that which any one maintains is merely his
persuasion, or his subjective conviction at least, that is, his firm
belief, is a bet. It frequently happens that a man delivers his
opinions with so much boldness and assurance, that he appears to be
under no apprehension as to the possibility of his being in error. The
offer of a bet startles him, and makes him pause. Sometimes it turns
out that his persuasion may be valued at a ducat, but not at ten.
For he does not hesitate, perhaps, to venture a ducat, but if it is
proposed to stake ten, he immediately becomes aware of the possibility
of his being mistaken- a possibility which has hitherto escaped his
observation. If we imagine to ourselves that we have to stake the
happiness of our whole life on the truth of any proposition, our
judgement drops its air of triumph, we take the alarm, and discover
the actual strength of our belief. Thus pragmatical belief has
degrees, varying in proportion to the interests at stake.
Now, in cases where we cannot enter upon any course of action in
reference to some object, and where, accordingly, our judgement is
purely theoretical, we can still represent to ourselves, in thought,
the possibility of a course of action, for which we suppose that we
have sufficient grounds, if any means existed of ascertaining the
truth of the matter. Thus we find in purely theoretical judgements
an analogon of practical judgements, to which the word belief may
properly be applied, and which we may term doctrinal belief. I
should not hesitate to stake my all on the truth of the proposition-
if there were any possibility of bringing it to the test of
experience- that, at least, some one of the planets, which we see,
is inhabited. Hence I say that I have not merely the opinion, but
the strong belief, on the correctness of which I would stake even many
of the advantages of life, that there are inhabitants in other worlds.
Now we must admit that the doctrine of the existence of God
belongs to doctrinal belief. For, although in respect to the
theoretical cognition of the universe I do not require to form any
theory which necessarily involves this idea, as the condition of my
explanation of the phenomena which the universe presents, but, on
the contrary, am rather bound so to use my reason as if everything
were mere nature, still teleological unity is so important a condition
of the application of my reason to nature, that it is impossible for
me to ignore it- especially since, in addition to these
considerations, abundant examples of it are supplied by experience.
But the sole condition, so far as my knowledge extends, under which
this unity can be my guide in the investigation of nature, is the
assumption that a supreme intelligence has ordered all things
according to the wisest ends. Consequently, the hypothesis of a wise
author of the universe is necessary for my guidance in the
investigation of nature- is the condition under which alone I can
fulfil an end which is contingent indeed, but by no means unimportant.
Moreover, since the result of my attempts so frequently confirms the
utility of this assumption, and since nothing decisive can be
adduced against it, it follows that it would be saying far too
little to term my judgement, in this case, a mere opinion, and that,
even in this theoretical connection, I may assert that I firmly
believe in God. Still, if we use words strictly, this must not be
called a practical, but a doctrinal belief, which the theology of
nature (physico-theology) must also produce in my mind. In the
wisdom of a Supreme Being, and in the shortness of life, so inadequate
to the development of the glorious powers of human nature, we may find
equally sufficient grounds for a doctrinal belief in the future life
of the human soul.
The expression of belief is, in such cases, an expression of modesty
from the objective point of view, but, at the same time, of firm
confidence, from the subjective. If I should venture to term this
merely theoretical judgement even so much as a hypothesis which I am
entitled to assume; a more complete conception, with regard to another
world and to the cause of the world, might then be justly required
of me than I am, in reality, able to give. For, if I assume
anything, even as a mere hypothesis, I must, at least, know so much of
the properties of such a being as will enable me, not to form the
conception, but to imagine the existence of it. But the word belief
refers only to the guidance which an idea gives me, and to its
subjective influence on the conduct of my reason, which forces me to
hold it fast, though I may not be in a position to give a
speculative account of it.
But mere doctrinal belief is, to some extent, wanting in
stability. We often quit our hold of it, in consequence of the
difficulties which occur in speculation, though in the end we
inevitably return to it again.
It is quite otherwise with moral belief. For in this sphere action
is absolutely necessary, that is, I must act in obedience to the moral
law in all points. The end is here incontrovertibly established, and
there is only one condition possible, according to the best of my
perception, under which this end can harmonize with all other ends,
and so have practical validity- namely, the existence of a God and
of a future world. I know also, to a certainty, that no one can be
acquainted with any other conditions which conduct to the same unity
of ends under the moral law. But since the moral precept is, at the
same time, my maxim (as reason requires that it should be), I am
irresistibly constrained to believe in the existence of God and in a
future life; and I am sure that nothing can make me waver in this
belief, since I should thereby overthrow my moral maxims, the
renunciation of which would render me hateful in my own eyes.
Thus, while all the ambitious attempts of reason to penetrate beyond
the limits of experience end in disappointment, there is still
enough left to satisfy us in a practical point of view. No one, it
is true, will be able to boast that he knows that there is a God and a
future life; for, if he knows this, be is just the man whom I have
long wished to find. All knowledge, regarding an object of mere
reason, can be communicated; and I should thus be enabled to hope that
my own knowledge would receive this wonderful extension, through the
instrumentality of his instruction. No, my conviction is not
logical, but moral certainty; and since it rests on subjective grounds
(of the moral sentiment), I must not even say: It is morally certain
that there is a God, etc., but: I am morally certain, that is, my
belief in God and in another world is so interwoven with my moral
nature that I am under as little apprehension of having the former
torn from me as of losing the latter.
The only point in this argument that may appear open to suspicion is
that this rational belief presupposes the existence of moral
sentiments. If we give up this assumption, and take a man who is
entirely indifferent with regard to moral laws, the question which
reason proposes, becomes then merely a problem for speculation and
may, indeed, be supported by strong grounds from analogy, but not by
such as will compel the most obstinate scepticism to give way.* But in
these questions no man is free from all interest. For though the
want of good sentiments may place him beyond the influence of moral
interests, still even in this case enough may be left to make him fear
the existence of God and a future life. For he cannot pretend to any
certainty of the non-existence of God and of a future life, unless-
since it could only be proved by mere reason, and therefore
apodeictically- he is prepared to establish the impossibility of both,
which certainly no reasonable man would undertake to do. This would be
a negative belief, which could not, indeed, produce morality and
good sentiments, but still could produce an analogon of these, by
operating as a powerful restraint on the outbreak of evil
dispositions.
*The human mind (as, I believe, every rational being must of
necessity do) takes a natural interest in morality, although this
interest is not undivided, and may not be practically in
preponderance. If you strengthen and increase it, you will find the
reason become docile, more enlightened, and more capable of uniting
the speculative interest with the practical. But if you do not take
care at the outset, or at least midway, to make men good, you will
never force them into an honest belief.
But, it will be said, is this all that pure reason can effect, in
opening up prospects beyond the limits of experience? Nothing more
than two articles of belief? Common sense could have done as much as
this, without taking the philosophers to counsel in the matter!
I shall not here eulogize philosophy for the benefits which the
laborious efforts of its criticism have conferred on human reason-
even granting that its merit should turn out in the end to be only
negative- for on this point something more will be said in the next
section. But, I ask, do you require that that knowledge which concerns
all men, should transcend the common understanding, and should only be
revealed to you by philosophers? The very circumstance which has
called forth your censure, is the best confirmation of the correctness
of our previous assertions, since it discloses, what could not have
been foreseen, that Nature is not chargeable with any partial
distribution of her gifts in those matters which concern all men
without distinction and that, in respect to the essential ends of
human nature, we cannot advance further with the help of the highest
philosophy, than under the guidance which nature has vouchsafed to the
meanest understanding.
