1785

               FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES OF THE METAPHYSIC OF MORALS

                                by Immanuel Kant

                     translated by Thomas Kingsmill Abbott

PREFACE

                         PREFACE

  Ancient Greek philosophy was divided into three sciences: physics,

ethics, and logic. This division is perfectly suitable to the nature

of the thing; and the only improvement that can be made in it is to

add the principle on which it is based, so that we may both satisfy

ourselves of its completeness, and also be able to determine correctly

the necessary subdivisions.

  All rational knowledge is either material or formal: the former

considers some object, the latter is concerned only with the form of

the understanding and of the reason itself, and with the universal

laws of thought in general without distinction of its objects.

Formal philosophy is called logic. Material philosophy, however, has

to do with determinate objects and the laws to which they are subject,

is again twofold; for these laws are either laws of nature or of

freedom. The science of the former is physics, that of the latter,

ethics; they are also called natural philosophy and moral philosophy

respectively.

  Logic cannot have any empirical part; that is, a part in which the

universal and necessary laws of thought should rest on grounds taken

from experience; otherwise it would not be logic, i.e., a canon for

the understanding or the reason, valid for all thought, and capable of

demonstration. Natural and moral philosophy, on the contrary, can each

have their empirical part, since the former has to determine the

laws of nature as an object of experience; the latter the laws of

the human will, so far as it is affected by nature: the former,

however, being laws according to which everything does happen; the

latter, laws according to which everything ought to happen. Ethics,

however, must also consider the conditions under which what ought to

happen frequently does not.

  We may call all philosophy empirical, so far as it is based on

grounds of experience: on the other band, that which delivers its

doctrines from a priori principles alone we may call pure

philosophy. When the latter is merely formal it is logic; if it is

restricted to definite objects of the understanding it is metaphysic.

  In this way there arises the idea of a twofold metaphysic- a

metaphysic of nature and a metaphysic of morals. Physics will thus

have an empirical and also a rational part. It is the same with

Ethics; but here the empirical part might have the special name of

practical anthropology, the name morality being appropriated to the

rational part.

  All trades, arts, and handiworks have gained by division of

labour, namely, when, instead of one man doing everything, each

confines himself to a certain kind of work distinct from others in the

treatment it requires, so as to be able to perform it with greater

facility and in the greatest perfection. Where the different kinds

of work are not distinguished and divided, where everyone is a

jack-of-all-trades, there manufactures remain still in the greatest

barbarism. It might deserve to be considered whether pure philosophy

in all its parts does not require a man specially devoted to it, and

whether it would not be better for the whole business of science if

those who, to please the tastes of the public, are wont to blend the

rational and empirical elements together, mixed in all sorts of

proportions unknown to themselves, and who call themselves independent

thinkers, giving the name of minute philosophers to those who apply

themselves to the rational part only- if these, I say, were warned not

to carry on two employments together which differ widely in the

treatment they demand, for each of which perhaps a special talent is

required, and the combination of which in one person only produces

bunglers. But I only ask here whether the nature of science does not

require that we should always carefully separate the empirical from

the rational part, and prefix to Physics proper (or empirical physics)

a metaphysic of nature, and to practical anthropology a metaphysic

of morals, which must be carefully cleared of everything empirical, so

that we may know how much can be accomplished by pure reason in both

cases, and from what sources it draws this its a priori teaching,

and that whether the latter inquiry is conducted by all moralists

(whose name is legion), or only by some who feel a calling thereto.

  As my concern here is with moral philosophy, I limit the question

suggested to this: Whether it is not of the utmost necessity to

construct a pure thing which is only empirical and which belongs to

anthropology? for that such a philosophy must be possible is evident

from the common idea of duty and of the moral laws. Everyone must

admit that if a law is to have moral force, i.e., to be the basis of

an obligation, it must carry with it absolute necessity; that, for

example, the precept, "Thou shalt not lie," is not valid for men

alone, as if other rational beings had no need to observe it; and so

with all the other moral laws properly so called; that, therefore, the

basis of obligation must not be sought in the nature of man, or in the

circumstances in the world in which he is placed, but a priori

simply in the conception of pure reason; and although any other

precept which is founded on principles of mere experience may be in

certain respects universal, yet in as far as it rests even in the

least degree on an empirical basis, perhaps only as to a motive,

such a precept, while it may be a practical rule, can never be

called a moral law.

  Thus not only are moral laws with their principles essentially

distinguished from every other kind of practical knowledge in which

there is anything empirical, but all moral philosophy rests wholly

on its pure part. When applied to man, it does not borrow the least

thing from the knowledge of man himself (anthropology), but gives laws

a priori to him as a rational being. No doubt these laws require a

judgement sharpened by experience, in order on the one hand to

distinguish in what cases they are applicable, and on the other to

procure for them access to the will of the man and effectual influence

on conduct; since man is acted on by so many inclinations that, though

capable of the idea of a practical pure reason, he is not so easily

able to make it effective in concreto in his life.

  A metaphysic of morals is therefore indispensably necessary, not

merely for speculative reasons, in order to investigate the sources of

the practical principles which are to be found a priori in our reason,

but also because morals themselves are liable to all sorts of

corruption, as long as we are without that clue and supreme canon by

which to estimate them correctly. For in order that an action should

be morally good, it is not enough that it conform to the moral law,

but it must also be done for the sake of the law, otherwise that

conformity is only very contingent and uncertain; since a principle

which is not moral, although it may now and then produce actions

conformable to the law, will also often produce actions which

contradict it. Now it is only a pure philosophy that we can look for

the moral law in its purity and genuineness (and, in a practical

matter, this is of the utmost consequence): we must, therefore,

begin with pure philosophy (metaphysic), and without it there cannot

be any moral philosophy at all. That which mingles these pure

principles with the empirical does not deserve the name of

philosophy (for what distinguishes philosophy from common rational

knowledge is that it treats in separate sciences what the latter

only comprehends confusedly); much less does it deserve that of

moral philosophy, since by this confusion it even spoils the purity of

morals themselves, and counteracts its own end.

  Let it not be thought, however, that what is here demanded is

already extant in the propaedeutic prefixed by the celebrated Wolf

to his moral philosophy, namely, his so-called general practical

philosophy, and that, therefore, we have not to strike into an

entirely new field. just because it was to be a general practical

philosophy, it has not taken into consideration a will of any

particular kind- say one which should be determined solely from a

priori principles without any empirical motives, and which we might

call a pure will, but volition in general, with all the actions and

conditions which belong to it in this general signification. By this

it is distinguished from a metaphysic of morals, just as general

logic, which treats of the acts and canons of thought in general, is

distinguished from transcendental philosophy, which treats of the

particular acts and canons of pure thought, i.e., that whose

cognitions are altogether a priori. For the metaphysic of morals has

to examine the idea and the principles of a possible pure will, and

not the acts and conditions of human volition generally, which for the

most part are drawn from psychology. It is true that moral laws and

duty are spoken of in the general moral philosophy (contrary indeed to

all fitness). But this is no objection, for in this respect also the

authors of that science remain true to their idea of it; they do not

distinguish the motives which are prescribed as such by reason alone

altogether a priori, and which are properly moral, from the

empirical motives which the understanding raises to general

conceptions merely by comparison of experiences; but, without noticing

the difference of their sources, and looking on them all as

homogeneous, they consider only their greater or less amount. It is in

this way they frame their notion of obligation, which, though anything

but moral, is all that can be attained in a philosophy which passes no

judgement at all on the origin of all possible practical concepts,

whether they are a priori, or only a posteriori.

  Intending to publish hereafter a metaphysic of morals, I issue in

the first instance these fundamental principles. Indeed there is

properly no other foundation for it than the critical examination of a

pure practical Reason; just as that of metaphysics is the critical

examination of the pure speculative reason, already published. But

in the first place the former is not so absolutely necessary as the

latter, because in moral concerns human reason can easily be brought

to a high degree of correctness and completeness, even in the

commonest understanding, while on the contrary in its theoretic but

pure use it is wholly dialectical; and in the second place if the

critique of a pure practical reason is to be complete, it must be

possible at the same time to show its identity with the speculative

reason in a common principle, for it can ultimately be only one and

the same reason which has to be distinguished merely in its

application. I could not, however, bring it to such completeness here,

without introducing considerations of a wholly different kind, which

would be perplexing to the reader. On this account I have adopted

the title of Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals

instead of that of a Critical Examination of the pure practical

reason.

  But in the third place, since a metaphysic of morals, in spite of

the discouraging title, is yet capable of being presented in popular

form, and one adapted to the common understanding, I find it useful to

separate from it this preliminary treatise on its fundamental

principles, in order that I may not hereafter have need to introduce

these necessarily subtle discussions into a book of a more simple

character.

  The present treatise is, however, nothing more than the

investigation and establishment of the supreme principle of

morality, and this alone constitutes a study complete in itself and

one which ought to be kept apart from every other moral investigation.

No doubt my conclusions on this weighty question, which has hitherto

been very unsatisfactorily examined, would receive much light from the

application of the same principle to the whole system, and would be

greatly confirmed by the adequacy which it exhibits throughout; but

I must forego this advantage, which indeed would be after all more

gratifying than useful, since the easy applicability of a principle

and its apparent adequacy give no very certain proof of its soundness,

but rather inspire a certain partiality, which prevents us from

examining and estimating it strictly in itself and without regard to

consequences.

  I have adopted in this work the method which I think most

suitable, proceeding analytically from common knowledge to the

determination of its ultimate principle, and again descending

synthetically from the examination of this principle and its sources

to the common knowledge in which we find it employed. The division

will, therefore, be as follows:

  1 FIRST SECTION. Transition from the common rational knowledge of

morality to the philosophical.

  2 SECOND SECTION. Transition from popular moral philosophy to the

metaphysic of morals.

  3 THIRD SECTION. Final step from the metaphysic of morals to the

critique of the pure practical reason.

                        FIRST SECTION

         TRANSITION FROM THE COMMON RATIONAL KNOWLEDGE

              OF MORALITY TO THE PHILOSOPHICAL

  Nothing can possibly be conceived in the world, or even out of it,

which can be called good, without qualification, except a good will.

Intelligence, wit, judgement, and the other talents of the mind,

however they may be named, or courage, resolution, perseverance, as

qualities of temperament, are undoubtedly good and desirable in many

respects; but these gifts of nature may also become extremely bad

and mischievous if the will which is to make use of them, and which,

therefore, constitutes what is called character, is not good. It is

the same with the gifts of fortune. Power, riches, honour, even

health, and the general well-being and contentment with one's

condition which is called happiness, inspire pride, and often

presumption, if there is not a good will to correct the influence of

these on the mind, and with this also to rectify the whole principle

of acting and adapt it to its end. The sight of a being who is not

adorned with a single feature of a pure and good will, enjoying

unbroken prosperity, can never give pleasure to an impartial

rational spectator. Thus a good will appears to constitute the

indispensable condition even of being worthy of happiness.

  There are even some qualities which are of service to this good will

itself and may facilitate its action, yet which have no intrinsic

unconditional value, but always presuppose a good will, and this

qualifies the esteem that we justly have for them and does not

permit us to regard them as absolutely good. Moderation in the

affections and passions, self-control, and calm deliberation are not

only good in many respects, but even seem to constitute part of the

intrinsic worth of the person; but they are far from deserving to be

called good without qualification, although they have been so

unconditionally praised by the ancients. For without the principles of

a good will, they may become extremely bad, and the coolness of a

villain not only makes him far more dangerous, but also directly makes

him more abominable in our eyes than he would have been without it.

  A good will is good not because of what it performs or effects,

not by its aptness for the attainment of some proposed end, but simply

by virtue of the volition; that is, it is good in itself, and

considered by itself is to be esteemed much higher than all that can

be brought about by it in favour of any inclination, nay even of the

sum total of all inclinations. Even if it should happen that, owing to

special disfavour of fortune, or the niggardly provision of a

step-motherly nature, this will should wholly lack power to accomplish

its purpose, if with its greatest efforts it should yet achieve

nothing, and there should remain only the good will (not, to be

sure, a mere wish, but the summoning of all means in our power), then,

like a jewel, it would still shine by its own light, as a thing

which has its whole value in itself. Its usefulness or fruitfulness

can neither add nor take away anything from this value. It would be,

as it were, only the setting to enable us to handle it the more

conveniently in common commerce, or to attract to it the attention

of those who are not yet connoisseurs, but not to recommend it to true

connoisseurs, or to determine its value.

  There is, however, something so strange in this idea of the absolute

value of the mere will, in which no account is taken of its utility,

that notwithstanding the thorough assent of even common reason to

the idea, yet a suspicion must arise that it may perhaps really be the

product of mere high-flown fancy, and that we may have misunderstood

the purpose of nature in assigning reason as the governor of our will.

Therefore we will examine this idea from this point of view.

  In the physical constitution of an organized being, that is, a being

adapted suitably to the purposes of life, we assume it as a

fundamental principle that no organ for any purpose will be found

but what is also the fittest and best adapted for that purpose. Now in

a being which has reason and a will, if the proper object of nature

were its conservation, its welfare, in a word, its happiness, then

nature would have hit upon a very bad arrangement in selecting the

reason of the creature to carry out this purpose. For all the

actions which the creature has to perform with a view to this purpose,

and the whole rule of its conduct, would be far more surely prescribed

to it by instinct, and that end would have been attained thereby

much more certainly than it ever can be by reason. Should reason

have been communicated to this favoured creature over and above, it

must only have served it to contemplate the happy constitution of

its nature, to admire it, to congratulate itself thereon, and to

feel thankful for it to the beneficent cause, but not that it should

subject its desires to that weak and delusive guidance and meddle

bunglingly with the purpose of nature. In a word, nature would have

taken care that reason should not break forth into practical exercise,

nor have the presumption, with its weak insight, to think out for

itself the plan of happiness, and of the means of attaining it. Nature

would not only have taken on herself the choice of the ends, but

also of the means, and with wise foresight would have entrusted both

to instinct.

  And, in fact, we find that the more a cultivated reason applies

itself with deliberate purpose to the enjoyment of life and happiness,

so much the more does the man fail of true satisfaction. And from this

circumstance there arises in many, if they are candid enough to

confess it, a certain degree of misology, that is, hatred of reason,

especially in the case of those who are most experienced in the use of

it, because after calculating all the advantages they derive, I do not

say from the invention of all the arts of common luxury, but even from

the sciences (which seem to them to be after all only a luxury of

the understanding), they find that they have, in fact, only brought

more trouble on their shoulders. rather than gained in happiness;

and they end by envying, rather than despising, the more common

stamp of men who keep closer to the guidance of mere instinct and do

not allow their reason much influence on their conduct. And this we

must admit, that the judgement of those who would very much lower

the lofty eulogies of the advantages which reason gives us in regard

to the happiness and satisfaction of life, or who would even reduce

them below zero, is by no means morose or ungrateful to the goodness

with which the world is governed, but that there lies at the root of

these judgements the idea that our existence has a different and far

nobler end, for which, and not for happiness, reason is properly

intended, and which must, therefore, be regarded as the supreme

condition to which the private ends of man must, for the most part, be

postponed.

  For as reason is not competent to guide the will with certainty in

regard to its objects and the satisfaction of all our wants (which

it to some extent even multiplies), this being an end to which an

implanted instinct would have led with much greater certainty; and

since, nevertheless, reason is imparted to us as a practical

faculty, i.e., as one which is to have influence on the will,

therefore, admitting that nature generally in the distribution of

her capacities has adapted the means to the end, its true

destination must be to produce a will, not merely good as a means to

something else, but good in itself, for which reason was absolutely

necessary. This will then, though not indeed the sole and complete

good, must be the supreme good and the condition of every other,

even of the desire of happiness. Under these circumstances, there is

nothing inconsistent with the wisdom of nature in the fact that the

cultivation of the reason, which is requisite for the first and

unconditional purpose, does in many ways interfere, at least in this

life, with the attainment of the second, which is always

conditional, namely, happiness. Nay, it may even reduce it to nothing,

without nature thereby failing of her purpose. For reason recognizes

the establishment of a good will as its highest practical destination,

and in attaining this purpose is capable only of a satisfaction of its

own proper kind, namely that from the attainment of an end, which

end again is determined by reason only, notwithstanding that this

may involve many a disappointment to the ends of inclination.

  We have then to develop the notion of a will which deserves to be

highly esteemed for itself and is good without a view to anything

further, a notion which exists already in the sound natural

understanding, requiring rather to be cleared up than to be taught,

and which in estimating the value of our actions always takes the

first place and constitutes the condition of all the rest. In order to

do this, we will take the notion of duty, which includes that of a

good will, although implying certain subjective restrictions and

hindrances. These, however, far from concealing it, or rendering it

unrecognizable, rather bring it out by contrast and make it shine

forth so much the brighter.

  I omit here all actions which are already recognized as inconsistent

with duty, although they may be useful for this or that purpose, for

with these the question whether they are done from duty cannot arise

at all, since they even conflict with it. I also set aside those

actions which really conform to duty, but to which men have no

direct inclination, performing them because they are impelled

thereto by some other inclination. For in this case we can readily

distinguish whether the action which agrees with duty is done from

duty, or from a selfish view. It is much harder to make this

distinction when the action accords with duty and the subject has

besides a direct inclination to it. For example, it is always a matter

of duty that a dealer should not over charge an inexperienced

purchaser; and wherever there is much commerce the prudent tradesman

does not overcharge, but keeps a fixed price for everyone, so that a

child buys of him as well as any other. Men are thus honestly

served; but this is not enough to make us believe that the tradesman

has so acted from duty and from principles of honesty: his own

advantage required it; it is out of the question in this case to

suppose that he might besides have a direct inclination in favour of

the buyers, so that, as it were, from love he should give no advantage

to one over another. Accordingly the action was done neither from duty

nor from direct inclination, but merely with a selfish view.

  On the other hand, it is a duty to maintain one's life; and, in

addition, everyone has also a direct inclination to do so. But on this

account the of anxious care which most men take for it has no

intrinsic worth, and their maxim has no moral import. They preserve

their life as duty requires, no doubt, but not because duty

requires. On the other band, if adversity and hopeless sorrow have

completely taken away the relish for life; if the unfortunate one,

strong in mind, indignant at his fate rather than desponding or

dejected, wishes for death, and yet preserves his life without

loving it- not from inclination or fear, but from duty- then his maxim

has a moral worth.

  To be beneficent when we can is a duty; and besides this, there

are many minds so sympathetically constituted that, without any

other motive of vanity or self-interest, they find a pleasure in

spreading joy around them and can take delight in the satisfaction

of others so far as it is their own work. But I maintain that in

such a case an action of this kind, however proper, however amiable it

may be, bas nevertheless no true moral worth, but is on a level with

other inclinations, e.g., the inclination to honour, which, if it is

happily directed to that which is in fact of public utility and

accordant with duty and consequently honourable, deserves praise and

encouragement, but not esteem. For the maxim lacks the moral import,

namely, that such actions be done from duty, not from inclination. Put

the case that the mind of that philanthropist were clouded by sorrow

of his own, extinguishing all sympathy with the lot of others, and

that, while he still has the power to benefit others in distress, he

is not touched by their trouble because he is absorbed with his own;

and now suppose that he tears himself out of this dead

insensibility, and performs the action without any inclination to

it, but simply from duty, then first has his action its genuine

moral worth. Further still; if nature bas put little sympathy in the

heart of this or that man; if he, supposed to be an upright man, is by

temperament cold and indifferent to the sufferings of others,

perhaps because in respect of his own he is provided with the

special gift of patience and fortitude and supposes, or even requires,

that others should have the same- and such a man would certainly not

be the meanest product of nature- but if nature had not specially

framed him for a philanthropist, would he not still find in himself

a source from whence to give himself a far higher worth than that of a

good-natured temperament could be? Unquestionably. It is just in

this that the moral worth of the character is brought out which is

incomparably the highest of all, namely, that he is beneficent, not

from inclination, but from duty.

  To secure one's own happiness is a duty, at least indirectly; for

discontent with one's condition, under a pressure of many anxieties

and amidst unsatisfied wants, might easily become a great temptation

to transgression of duty. But here again, without looking to duty, all

men have already the strongest and most intimate inclination to

happiness, because it is just in this idea that all inclinations are

combined in one total. But the precept of happiness is often of such a

sort that it greatly interferes with some inclinations, and yet a

man cannot form any definite and certain conception of the sum of

satisfaction of all of them which is called happiness. It is not

then to be wondered at that a single inclination, definite both as

to what it promises and as to the time within which it can be

gratified, is often able to overcome such a fluctuating idea, and that

a gouty patient, for instance, can choose to enjoy what he likes,

and to suffer what he may, since, according to his calculation, on

this occasion at least, be has not sacrificed the enjoyment of the

present moment to a possibly mistaken expectation of a happiness which

is supposed to be found in health. But even in this case, if the

general desire for happiness did not influence his will, and supposing

that in his particular case health was not a necessary element in this

calculation, there yet remains in this, as in all other cases, this

law, namely, that he should promote his happiness not from inclination

but from duty, and by this would his conduct first acquire true

moral worth.

  It is in this manner, undoubtedly, that we are to understand those

passages of Scripture also in which we are commanded to love our

neighbour, even our enemy. For love, as an affection, cannot be

commanded, but beneficence for duty's sake may; even though we are not

impelled to it by any inclination- nay, are even repelled by a natural

and unconquerable aversion. This is practical love and not

pathological- a love which is seated in the will, and not in the

propensions of sense- in principles of action and not of tender

sympathy; and it is this love alone which can be commanded.

  The second proposition is: That an action done from duty derives its

moral worth, not from the purpose which is to be attained by it, but

from the maxim by which it is determined, and therefore does not

depend on the realization of the object of the action, but merely on

the principle of volition by which the action has taken place, without

regard to any object of desire. It is clear from what precedes that

the purposes which we may have in view in our actions, or their

effects regarded as ends and springs of the will, cannot give to

actions any unconditional or moral worth. In what, then, can their

worth lie, if it is not to consist in the will and in reference to its

expected effect? It cannot lie anywhere but in the principle of the

will without regard to the ends which can be attained by the action.

For the will stands between its a priori principle, which is formal,

and its a posteriori spring, which is material, as between two

roads, and as it must be determined by something, it that it must be

determined by the formal principle of volition when an action is

done from duty, in which case every material principle has been

withdrawn from it.

  The third proposition, which is a consequence of the two

preceding, I would express thus Duty is the necessity of acting from

respect for the law. I may have inclination for an object as the

effect of my proposed action, but I cannot have respect for it, just

for this reason, that it is an effect and not an energy of will.

Similarly I cannot have respect for inclination, whether my own or

another's; I can at most, if my own, approve it; if another's,

sometimes even love it; i.e., look on it as favourable to my own

interest. It is only what is connected with my will as a principle, by

no means as an effect- what does not subserve my inclination, but

overpowers it, or at least in case of choice excludes it from its

calculation- in other words, simply the law of itself, which can be an

object of respect, and hence a command. Now an action done from duty

must wholly exclude the influence of inclination and with it every

object of the will, so that nothing remains which can determine the

will except objectively the law, and subjectively pure respect for

this practical law, and consequently the maxim* that I should follow

this law even to the thwarting of all my inclinations.

  *A maxim is the subjective principle of volition. The objective

principle (i.e., that which would also serve subjectively as a

practical principle to all rational beings if reason had full power

over the faculty of desire) is the practical law.

  Thus the moral worth of an action does not lie in the effect

expected from it, nor in any principle of action which requires to

borrow its motive from this expected effect. For all these effects-

agreeableness of one's condition and even the promotion of the

happiness of others- could have been also brought about by other

causes, so that for this there would have been no need of the will

of a rational being; whereas it is in this alone that the supreme

and unconditional good can be found. The pre-eminent good which we

call moral can therefore consist in nothing else than the conception

of law in itself, which certainly is only possible in a rational

being, in so far as this conception, and not the expected effect,

determines the will. This is a good which is already present in the

person who acts accordingly, and we have not to wait for it to

appear first in the result.*

  *It might be here objected to me that I take refuge behind the

word respect in an obscure feeling, instead of giving a distinct

solution of the question by a concept of the reason. But although

respect is a feeling, it is not a feeling received through

influence, but is self-wrought by a rational concept, and,

therefore, is specifically distinct from all feelings of the former

kind, which may be referred either to inclination or fear, What I

recognise immediately as a law for me, I recognise with respect.

This merely signifies the consciousness that my will is subordinate to

a law, without the intervention of other influences on my sense. The

immediate determination of the will by the law, and the

consciousness of this, is called respect, so that this is regarded

as an effect of the law on the subject, and not as the cause of it.

Respect is properly the conception of a worth which thwarts my

self-love. Accordingly it is something which is considered neither

as an object of inclination nor of fear, although it has something

analogous to both. The object of respect is the law only, and that the

law which we impose on ourselves and yet recognise as necessary in

itself. As a law, we are subjected too it without consulting

self-love; as imposed by us on ourselves, it is a result of our

will. In the former aspect it has an analogy to fear, in the latter to

inclination. Respect for a person is properly only respect for the law

(of honesty, etc.) of which he gives us an example. Since we also look

on the improvement of our talents as a duty, we consider that we see

in a person of talents, as it were, the example of a law (viz., to

become like him in this by exercise), and this constitutes our

respect. All so-called moral interest consists simply in respect for

the law.

  But what sort of law can that be, the conception of which must

determine the will, even without paying any regard to the effect

expected from it, in order that this will may be called good

absolutely and without qualification? As I have deprived the will of

every impulse which could arise to it from obedience to any law, there

remains nothing but the universal conformity of its actions to law

in general, which alone is to serve the will as a principle, i.e., I

am never to act otherwise than so that I could also will that my maxim

should become a universal law. Here, now, it is the simple

conformity to law in general, without assuming any particular law

applicable to certain actions, that serves the will as its principle

and must so serve it, if duty is not to be a vain delusion and a

chimerical notion. The common reason of men in its practical

judgements perfectly coincides with this and always has in view the

principle here suggested. Let the question be, for example: May I when

in distress make a promise with the intention not to keep it? I

readily distinguish here between the two significations which the

question may have: Whether it is prudent, or whether it is right, to

make a false promise? The former may undoubtedly of be the case. I see

clearly indeed that it is not enough to extricate myself from a

present difficulty by means of this subterfuge, but it must be well

considered whether there may not hereafter spring from this lie much

greater inconvenience than that from which I now free myself, and

as, with all my supposed cunning, the consequences cannot be so easily

foreseen but that credit once lost may be much more injurious to me

than any mischief which I seek to avoid at present, it should be

considered whether it would not be more prudent to act herein

according to a universal maxim and to make it a habit to promise

nothing except with the intention of keeping it. But it is soon

clear to me that such a maxim will still only be based on the fear

of consequences. Now it is a wholly different thing to be truthful

from duty and to be so from apprehension of injurious consequences. In

the first case, the very notion of the action already implies a law

for me; in the second case, I must first look about elsewhere to see

what results may be combined with it which would affect myself. For to

deviate from the principle of duty is beyond all doubt wicked; but

to be unfaithful to my maxim of prudence may often be very

advantageous to me, although to abide by it is certainly safer. The

shortest way, however, and an unerring one, to discover the answer

to this question whether a lying promise is consistent with duty, is

to ask myself, "Should I be content that my maxim (to extricate myself

from difficulty by a false promise) should hold good as a universal

law, for myself as well as for others? and should I be able to say

to myself, "Every one may make a deceitful promise when he finds

himself in a difficulty from which he cannot otherwise extricate

himself?" Then I presently become aware that while I can will the lie,

I can by no means will that lying should be a universal law. For

with such a law there would be no promises at all, since it would be

in vain to allege my intention in regard to my future actions to those

who would not believe this allegation, or if they over hastily did

so would pay me back in my own coin. Hence my maxim, as soon as it

should be made a universal law, would necessarily destroy itself.

  I do not, therefore, need any far-reaching penetration to discern

what I have to do in order that my will may be morally good.

Inexperienced in the course of the world, incapable of being

prepared for all its contingencies, I only ask myself: Canst thou also

will that thy maxim should be a universal law? If not, then it must be

rejected, and that not because of a disadvantage accruing from it to

myself or even to others, but because it cannot enter as a principle

into a possible universal legislation, and reason extorts from me

immediate respect for such legislation. I do not indeed as yet discern

on what this respect is based (this the philosopher may inquire),

but at least I understand this, that it is an estimation of the

worth which far outweighs all worth of what is recommended by

inclination, and that the necessity of acting from pure respect for

the practical law is what constitutes duty, to which every other

motive must give place, because it is the condition of a will being

good in itself, and the worth of such a will is above everything.

  Thus, then, without quitting the moral knowledge of common human

reason, we have arrived at its principle. And although, no doubt,

common men do not conceive it in such an abstract and universal

form, yet they always have it really before their eyes and use it as

the standard of their decision. Here it would be easy to show how,

with this compass in hand, men are well able to distinguish, in

every case that occurs, what is good, what bad, conformably to duty or

inconsistent with it, if, without in the least teaching them

anything new, we only, like Socrates, direct their attention to the

principle they themselves employ; and that, therefore, we do not

need science and philosophy to know what we should do to be honest and

good, yea, even wise and virtuous. Indeed we might well have

conjectured beforehand that the knowledge of what every man is bound

to do, and therefore also to know, would be within the reach of

every man, even the commonest. Here we cannot forbear admiration

when we see how great an advantage the practical judgement has over

the theoretical in the common understanding of men. In the latter,

if common reason ventures to depart from the laws of experience and

from the perceptions of the senses, it falls into mere

inconceivabilities and self-contradictions, at least into a chaos of

uncertainty, obscurity, and instability. But in the practical sphere

it is just when the common understanding excludes all sensible springs

from practical laws that its power of judgement begins to show

itself to advantage. It then becomes even subtle, whether it be that

it chicanes with its own conscience or with other claims respecting

what is to be called right, or whether it desires for its own

instruction to determine honestly the worth of actions; and, in the

latter case, it may even have as good a hope of hitting the mark as

any philosopher whatever can promise himself. Nay, it is almost more

sure of doing so, because the philosopher cannot have any other

principle, while he may easily perplex his judgement by a multitude of

considerations foreign to the matter, and so turn aside from the right

way. Would it not therefore be wiser in moral concerns to acquiesce in

the judgement of common reason, or at most only to call in

philosophy for the purpose of rendering the system of morals more

complete and intelligible, and its rules more convenient for use

(especially for disputation), but not so as to draw off the common

understanding from its happy simplicity, or to bring it by means of

philosophy into a new path of inquiry and instruction?

  Innocence is indeed a glorious thing; only, on the other hand, it is

very sad that it cannot well maintain itself and is easily seduced. On

this account even wisdom- which otherwise consists more in conduct

than in knowledge- yet has need of science, not in order to learn from

it, but to secure for its precepts admission and permanence. Against

all the commands of duty which reason represents to man as so

deserving of respect, he feels in himself a powerful counterpoise in

his wants and inclinations, the entire satisfaction of which he sums

up under the name of happiness. Now reason issues its commands

unyieldingly, without promising anything to the inclinations, and,

as it were, with disregard and contempt for these claims, which are so

impetuous, and at the same time so plausible, and which will not allow

themselves to be suppressed by any command. Hence there arises a

natural dialectic, i.e., a disposition, to argue against these

strict laws of duty and to question their validity, or at least

their purity and strictness; and, if possible, to make them more

accordant with our wishes and inclinations, that is to say, to corrupt

them at their very source, and entirely to destroy their worth- a

thing which even common practical reason cannot ultimately call good.

  Thus is the common reason of man compelled to go out of its

sphere, and to take a step into the field of a practical philosophy,

not to satisfy any speculative want (which never occurs to it as

long as it is content to be mere sound reason), but even on

practical grounds, in order to attain in it information and clear

instruction respecting the source of its principle, and the correct

determination of it in opposition to the maxims which are based on

wants and inclinations, so that it may escape from the perplexity of

opposite claims and not run the risk of losing all genuine moral

principles through the equivocation into which it easily falls.

Thus, when practical reason cultivates itself, there insensibly arises

in it a dialetic which forces it to seek aid in philosophy, just as

happens to it in its theoretic use; and in this case, therefore, as

well as in the other, it will find rest nowhere but in a thorough

critical examination of our reason.

                     SECOND SECTION

         TRANSITION FROM POPULAR MORAL PHILOSOPHY

              TO THE METAPHYSIC OF MORALS

  If we have hitherto drawn our notion of duty from the common use

of our practical reason, it is by no means to be inferred that we have

treated it as an empirical notion. On the contrary, if we attend to

the experience of men's conduct, we meet frequent and, as we ourselves

allow, just complaints that one cannot find a single certain example

of the disposition to act from pure duty. Although many things are

done in conformity with what duty prescribes, it is nevertheless

always doubtful whether they are done strictly from duty, so as to

have a moral worth. Hence there have at all times been philosophers

who have altogether denied that this disposition actually exists at

all in human actions, and have ascribed everything to a more or less

refined self-love. Not that they have on that account questioned the

soundness of the conception of morality; on the contrary, they spoke

with sincere regret of the frailty and corruption of human nature,

which, though noble enough to take its rule an idea so worthy of

respect, is yet weak to follow it and employs reason which ought to

give it the law only for the purpose of providing for the interest

of the inclinations, whether singly or at the best in the greatest

possible harmony with one another.

  In fact, it is absolutely impossible to make out by experience

with complete certainty a single case in which the maxim of an action,

however right in itself, rested simply on moral grounds and on the

conception of duty. Sometimes it happens that with the sharpest

self-examination we can find nothing beside the moral principle of

duty which could have been powerful enough to move us to this or

that action and to so great a sacrifice; yet we cannot from this infer

with certainty that it was not really some secret impulse of

self-love, under the false appearance of duty, that was the actual

determining cause of the will. We like them to flatter ourselves by

falsely taking credit for a more noble motive; whereas in fact we

can never, even by the strictest examination, get completely behind

the secret springs of action; since, when the question is of moral

worth, it is not with the actions which we see that we are

concerned, but with those inward principles of them which we do not

see.

  Moreover, we cannot better serve the wishes of those who ridicule

all morality as a mere chimera of human imagination over stepping

itself from vanity, than by conceding to them that notions of duty

must be drawn only from experience (as from indolence, people are

ready to think is also the case with all other notions); for or is

to prepare for them a certain triumph. I am willing to admit out of

love of humanity that even most of our actions are correct, but if

we look closer at them we everywhere come upon the dear self which

is always prominent, and it is this they have in view and not the

strict command of duty which would often require self-denial.

Without being an enemy of virtue, a cool observer, one that does not

mistake the wish for good, however lively, for its reality, may

sometimes doubt whether true virtue is actually found anywhere in

the world, and this especially as years increase and the judgement

is partly made wiser by experience and partly, also, more acute in

observation. This being so, nothing can secure us from falling away

altogether from our ideas of duty, or maintain in the soul a

well-grounded respect for its law, but the clear conviction that

although there should never have been actions which really sprang from

such pure sources, yet whether this or that takes place is not at

all the question; but that reason of itself, independent on all

experience, ordains what ought to take place, that accordingly actions

of which perhaps the world has hitherto never given an example, the

feasibility even of which might be very much doubted by one who founds

everything on experience, are nevertheless inflexibly commanded by

reason; that, e.g., even though there might never yet have been a

sincere friend, yet not a whit the less is pure sincerity in

friendship required of every man, because, prior to all experience,

this duty is involved as duty in the idea of a reason determining

the will by a priori principles.

  When we add further that, unless we deny that the notion of morality

has any truth or reference to any possible object, we must admit

that its law must be valid, not merely for men but for all rational

creatures generally, not merely under certain contingent conditions or

with exceptions but with absolute necessity, then it is clear that

no experience could enable us to infer even the possibility of such

apodeictic laws. For with what right could we bring into unbounded

respect as a universal precept for every rational nature that which

perhaps holds only under the contingent conditions of humanity? Or how

could laws of the determination of our will be regarded as laws of the

determination of the will of rational beings generally, and for us

only as such, if they were merely empirical and did not take their

origin wholly a priori from pure but practical reason?

  Nor could anything be more fatal to morality than that we should

wish to derive it from examples. For every example of it that is set

before me must be first itself tested by principles of morality,

whether it is worthy to serve as an original example, i.e., as a

pattern; but by no means can it authoritatively furnish the conception

of morality. Even the Holy One of the Gospels must first be compared

with our ideal of moral perfection before we can recognise Him as

such; and so He says of Himself, "Why call ye Me (whom you see)

good; none is good (the model of good) but God only (whom ye do not

see)?" But whence have we the conception of God as the supreme good?

Simply from the idea of moral perfection, which reason frames a priori

and connects inseparably with the notion of a free will. Imitation

finds no place at all in morality, and examples serve only for

encouragement, i.e., they put beyond doubt the feasibility of what the

law commands, they make visible that which the practical rule

expresses more generally, but they can never authorize us to set aside

the true original which lies in reason and to guide ourselves by

examples.

  If then there is no genuine supreme principle of morality but what

must rest simply on pure reason, independent of all experience, I

think it is not necessary even to put the question whether it is

good to exhibit these concepts in their generality (in abstracto) as

they are established a priori along with the principles belonging to

them, if our knowledge is to be distinguished from the vulgar and to

be called philosophical.

  In our times indeed this might perhaps be necessary; for if we

collected votes whether pure rational knowledge separated from

everything empirical, that is to say, metaphysic of morals, or whether

popular practical philosophy is to be preferred, it is easy to guess

which side would preponderate.

  This descending to popular notions is certainly very commendable, if

the ascent to the principles of pure reason has first taken place

and been satisfactorily accomplished. This implies that we first found

ethics on metaphysics, and then, when it is firmly established,

procure a hearing for it by giving it a popular character. But it is

quite absurd to try to be popular in the first inquiry, on which the

soundness of the principles depends. It is not only that this

proceeding can never lay claim to the very rare merit of a true

philosophical popularity, since there is no art in being

intelligible if one renounces all thoroughness of insight; but also it

produces a disgusting medley of compiled observations and

half-reasoned principles. Shallow pates enjoy this because it can be

used for every-day chat, but the sagacious find in it only

confusion, and being unsatisfied and unable to help themselves, they

turn away their eyes, while philosophers, who see quite well through

this delusion, are little listened to when they call men off for a

time from this pretended popularity, in order that they might be

rightfully popular after they have attained a definite insight.

  We need only look at the attempts of moralists in that favourite

fashion, and we shall find at one time the special constitution of

human nature (including, however, the idea of a rational nature

generally), at one time perfection, at another happiness, here moral

sense, there fear of God. a little of this, and a little of that, in

marvellous mixture, without its occurring to them to ask whether the

principles of morality are to be sought in the knowledge of human

nature at all (which we can have only from experience); or, if this is

not so, if these principles are to be found altogether a priori,

free from everything empirical, in pure rational concepts only and

nowhere else, not even in the smallest degree; then rather to adopt

the method of making this a separate inquiry, as pure practical

philosophy, or (if one may use a name so decried) as metaphysic of

morals,* to bring it by itself to completeness, and to require the

public, which wishes for popular treatment, to await the issue of this

undertaking.

  *Just as pure mathematics are distinguished from applied, pure logic

from applied, so if we choose we may also distinguish pure

philosophy of morals (metaphysic) from applied (viz., applied to human

nature). By this designation we are also at once reminded that moral

principles are not based on properties of human nature, but must

subsist a priori of themselves, while from such principles practical

rules must be capable of being deduced for every rational nature,

and accordingly for that of man.

  Such a metaphysic of morals, completely isolated, not mixed with any

anthropology, theology, physics, or hyperphysics, and still less

with occult qualities (which we might call hypophysical), is not

only an indispensable substratum of all sound theoretical knowledge of

duties, but is at the same time a desideratum of the highest

importance to the actual fulfilment of their precepts. For the pure

conception of duty, unmixed with any foreign addition of empirical

attractions, and, in a word, the conception of the moral law,

exercises on the human heart, by way of reason alone (which first

becomes aware with this that it can of itself be practical), an

influence so much more powerful than all other springs* which may be

derived from the field of experience, that, in the consciousness of

its worth, it despises the latter, and can by degrees become their

master; whereas a mixed ethics, compounded partly of motives drawn

from feelings and inclinations, and partly also of conceptions of

reason, must make the mind waver between motives which cannot be

brought under any principle, which lead to good only by mere

accident and very often also to evil.

  *I have a letter from the late excellent Sulzer, in which he asks me

what can be the reason that moral instruction, although containing

much that is convincing for the reason, yet accomplishes so little? My

answer was postponed in order that I might make it complete. But it is

simply this: that the teachers themselves have not got their own

notions clear, and when they endeavour to make up for this by raking

up motives of moral goodness from every quarter, trying to make

their physic right strong, they spoil it. For the commonest

understanding shows that if we imagine, on the one hand, an act of

honesty done with steadfast mind, apart from every view to advantage

of any kind in this world or another, and even under the greatest

temptations of necessity or allurement, and, on the other hand, a

similar act which was affected, in however low a degree, by a

foreign motive, the former leaves far behind and eclipses the

second; it elevates the soul and inspires the wish to be able to act

in like manner oneself. Even moderately young children feel this

impression, ana one should never represent duties to them in any other

light.

  From what has been said, it is clear that all moral conceptions have

their seat and origin completely a priori in the reason, and that,

moreover, in the commonest reason just as truly as in that which is in

the highest degree speculative; that they cannot be obtained by

abstraction from any empirical, and therefore merely contingent,

knowledge; that it is just this purity of their origin that makes them

worthy to serve as our supreme practical principle, and that just in

proportion as we add anything empirical, we detract from their genuine

influence and from the absolute value of actions; that it is not

only of the greatest necessity, in a purely speculative point of view,

but is also of the greatest practical importance, to derive these

notions and laws from pure reason, to present them pure and unmixed,

and even to determine the compass of this practical or pure rational

knowledge, i.e., to determine the whole faculty of pure practical

reason; and, in doing so, we must not make its principles dependent on

the particular nature of human reason, though in speculative

philosophy this may be permitted, or may even at times be necessary;

but since moral laws ought to hold good for every rational creature,

we must derive them from the general concept of a rational being. In

this way, although for its application to man morality has need of

anthropology, yet, in the first instance, we must treat it

independently as pure philosophy, i.e., as metaphysic, complete in

itself (a thing which in such distinct branches of science is easily

done); knowing well that unless we are in possession of this, it would

not only be vain to determine the moral element of duty in right

actions for purposes of speculative criticism, but it would be

impossible to base morals on their genuine principles, even for common

practical purposes, especially of moral instruction, so as to

produce pure moral dispositions, and to engraft them on men's minds to

the promotion of the greatest possible good in the world.

  But in order that in this study we may not merely advance by the

natural steps from the common moral judgement (in this case very

worthy of respect) to the philosophical, as has been already done, but

also from a popular philosophy, which goes no further than it can

reach by groping with the help of examples, to metaphysic (which

does allow itself to be checked by anything empirical and, as it

must measure the whole extent of this kind of rational knowledge, goes

as far as ideal conceptions, where even examples fail us), we must

follow and clearly describe the practical faculty of reason, from

the general rules of its determination to the point where the notion

of duty springs from it.

  Everything in nature works according to laws. Rational beings

alone have the faculty of acting according to the conception of

laws, that is according to principles, i.e., have a will. Since the

deduction of actions from principles requires reason, the will is

nothing but practical reason. If reason infallibly determines the

will, then the actions of such a being which are recognised as

objectively necessary are subjectively necessary also, i.e., the

will is a faculty to choose that only which reason independent of

inclination recognises as practically necessary, i.e., as good. But if

reason of itself does not sufficiently determine the will, if the

latter is subject also to subjective conditions (particular

impulses) which do not always coincide with the objective

conditions; in a word, if the will does not in itself completely

accord with reason (which is actually the case with men), then the

actions which objectively are recognised as necessary are subjectively

contingent, and the determination of such a will according to

objective laws is obligation, that is to say, the relation of the

objective laws to a will that is not thoroughly good is conceived as

the determination of the will of a rational being by principles of

reason, but which the will from its nature does not of necessity

follow.

  The conception of an objective principle, in so far as it is

obligatory for a will, is called a command (of reason), and the

formula of the command is called an imperative.

  All imperatives are expressed by the word ought [or shall], and

thereby indicate the relation of an objective law of reason to a will,

which from its subjective constitution is not necessarily determined

by it (an obligation). They say that something would be good to do

or to forbear, but they say it to a will which does not always do a

thing because it is conceived to be good to do it. That is practically

good, however, which determines the will by means of the conceptions

of reason, and consequently not from subjective causes, but

objectively, that is on principles which are valid for every

rational being as such. It is distinguished from the pleasant, as that

which influences the will only by means of sensation from merely

subjective causes, valid only for the sense of this or that one, and

not as a principle of reason, which holds for every one.*

  *The dependence of the desires on sensations is called

inclination, and this accordingly always indicates a want. The

dependence of a contingently determinable will on principles of reason

is called an interest. This therefore, is found only in the case of

a dependent will which does not always of itself conform to reason; in

the Divine will we cannot conceive any interest. But the human will

can also take an interest in a thing without therefore acting from

interest. The former signifies the practical interest in the action,

the latter the pathological in the object of the action. The former

indicates only dependence of the will on principles of reason in

themselves; the second, dependence on principles of reason for the

sake of inclination, reason supplying only the practical rules how the

requirement of the inclination may be satisfied. In the first case the

action interests me; in the second the object of the action (because

it is pleasant to me). We have seen in the first section that in an

action done from duty we must look not to the interest in the

object, but only to that in the action itself, and in its rational

principle (viz., the law).

  A perfectly good will would therefore be equally subject to

objective laws (viz., laws of good), but could not be conceived as

obliged thereby to act lawfully, because of itself from its subjective

constitution it can only be determined by the conception of good.

Therefore no imperatives hold for the Divine will, or in general for a

holy will; ought is here out of place, because the volition is already

of itself necessarily in unison with the law. Therefore imperatives

are only formulae to express the relation of objective laws of all

volition to the subjective imperfection of the will of this or that

rational being, e.g., the human will.

  Now all imperatives command either hypothetically or

categorically. The former represent the practical necessity of a

possible action as means to something else that is willed (or at least

which one might possibly will). The categorical imperative would be

that which represented an action as necessary of itself without

reference to another end, i.e., as objectively necessary.

  Since every practical law represents a possible action as good

and, on this account, for a subject who is practically determinable by

reason, necessary, all imperatives are formulae determining an

action which is necessary according to the principle of a will good in

some respects. If now the action is good only as a means to

something else, then the imperative is hypothetical; if it is

conceived as good in itself and consequently as being necessarily

the principle of a will which of itself conforms to reason, then it is

categorical.

  Thus the imperative declares what action possible by me would be

good and presents the practical rule in relation to a will which

does not forthwith perform an action simply because it is good,

whether because the subject does not always know that it is good, or

because, even if it know this, yet its maxims might be opposed to

the objective principles of practical reason.

  Accordingly the hypothetical imperative only says that the action is

good for some purpose, possible or actual. In the first case it is a

problematical, in the second an assertorial practical principle. The

categorical imperative which declares an action to be objectively

necessary in itself without reference to any purpose, i.e., without

any other end, is valid as an apodeictic (practical) principle.

  Whatever is possible only by the power of some rational being may

also be conceived as a possible purpose of some will; and therefore

the principles of action as regards the means necessary to attain some

possible purpose are in fact infinitely numerous. All sciences have

a practical part, consisting of problems expressing that some end is

possible for us and of imperatives directing how it may be attained.

These may, therefore, be called in general imperatives of skill.

Here there is no question whether the end is rational and good, but

only what one must do in order to attain it. The precepts for the

physician to make his patient thoroughly healthy, and for a poisoner

to ensure certain death, are of equal value in this respect, that each

serves to effect its purpose perfectly. Since in early youth it cannot

be known what ends are likely to occur to us in the course of life,

parents seek to have their children taught a great many things, and

provide for their skill in the use of means for all sorts of arbitrary

ends, of none of which can they determine whether it may not perhaps

hereafter be an object to their pupil, but which it is at all events

possible that he might aim at; and this anxiety is so great that

they commonly neglect to form and correct their judgement on the value

of the things which may be chosen as ends.

  There is one end, however, which may be assumed to be actually

such to all rational beings (so far as imperatives apply to them,

viz., as dependent beings), and, therefore, one purpose which they not

merely may have, but which we may with certainty assume that they

all actually have by a natural necessity, and this is happiness. The

hypothetical imperative which expresses the practical necessity of

an action as means to the advancement of happiness is assertorial.

We are not to present it as necessary for an uncertain and merely

possible purpose, but for a purpose which we may presuppose with

certainty and a priori in every man, because it belongs to his

being. Now skill in the choice of means to his own greatest well-being

may be called prudence,* in the narrowest sense. And thus the

imperative which refers to the choice of means to one's own happiness,

i.e., the precept of prudence, is still always hypothetical; the

action is not commanded absolutely, but only as means to another

purpose.

  *The word prudence is taken in two senses: in the one it may bear

the name of knowledge of the world, in the other that of private

prudence. The former is a man's ability to influence others so as to

use them for his own purposes. The latter is the sagacity to combine

all these purposes for his own lasting benefit. This latter is

properly that to which the value even of the former is reduced, and

when a man is prudent in the former sense, but not in the latter, we

might better say of him that he is clever and cunning, but, on the

whole, imprudent.

  Finally, there is an imperative which commands a certain conduct

immediately, without having as its condition any other purpose to be

attained by it. This imperative is categorical. It concerns not the

matter of the action, or its intended result, but its form and the

principle of which it is itself a result; and what is essentially good

in it consists in the mental disposition, let the consequence be

what it may. This imperative may be called that of morality.

  There is a marked distinction also between the volitions on these

three sorts of principles in the dissimilarity of the obligation of

the will. In order to mark this difference more clearly, I think

they would be most suitably named in their order if we said they are

either rules of skill, or counsels of prudence, or commands (laws)

of morality. For it is law only that involves the conception of an

unconditional and objective necessity, which is consequently

universally valid; and commands are laws which must be obeyed, that

is, must be followed, even in opposition to inclination. Counsels,

indeed, involve necessity, but one which can only hold under a

contingent subjective condition, viz., they depend on whether this

or that man reckons this or that as part of his happiness; the

categorical imperative, on the contrary, is not limited by any

condition, and as being absolutely, although practically, necessary,

may be quite properly called a command. We might also call the first

kind of imperatives technical (belonging to art), the second

pragmatic* (to welfare), the third moral (belonging to free conduct

generally, that is, to morals).

  *It seems to me that the proper signification of the word

pragmatic may be most accurately defined in this way. For sanctions

are called pragmatic which flow properly not from the law of the

states as necessary enactments, but from precaution for the general

welfare. A history is composed pragmatically when it teaches prudence,

i.e., instructs the world how it can provide for its interests better,

or at least as well as, the men of former time.

  Now arises the question, how are all these imperatives possible?

This question does not seek to know how we can conceive the

accomplishment of the action which the imperative ordains, but

merely how we can conceive the obligation of the will which the

imperative expresses. No special explanation is needed to show how

an imperative of skill is possible. Whoever wills the end, wills

also (so far as reason decides his conduct) the means in his power

which are indispensably necessary thereto. This proposition is, as

regards the volition, analytical; for, in willing an object as my

effect, there is already thought the causality of myself as an

acting cause, that is to say, the use of the means; and the imperative

educes from the conception of volition of an end the conception of

actions necessary to this end. Synthetical propositions must no

doubt be employed in defining the means to a proposed end; but they do

not concern the principle, the act of the will, but the object and its

realization. E.g., that in order to bisect a line on an unerring

principle I must draw from its extremities two intersecting arcs; this

no doubt is taught by mathematics only in synthetical propositions;

but if I know that it is only by this process that the intended

operation can be performed, then to say that, if I fully will the

operation, I also will the action required for it, is an analytical

proposition; for it is one and the same thing to conceive something as

an effect which I can produce in a certain way, and to conceive myself

as acting in this way.

  If it were only equally easy to give a definite conception of

happiness, the imperatives of prudence would correspond exactly with

those of skill, and would likewise be analytical. For in this case

as in that, it could be said: "Whoever wills the end, wills also

(according to the dictate of reason necessarily) the indispensable

means thereto which are in his power." But, unfortunately, the

notion of happiness is so indefinite that although every man wishes to

at. it, yet he never can say definitely and consistently what it is

that he really wishes and wills. The reason of this is that all the

elements which belong to the notion of happiness are altogether

empirical, i.e., they must be borrowed from experience, and

nevertheless the idea of happiness requires an absolute whole, a

maximum of welfare in my present and all future circumstances. Now

it is impossible that the most clear-sighted and at the same time most

powerful being (supposed finite) should frame to himself a definite

conception of what he really wills in this. Does he will riches, how

much anxiety, envy, and snares might he not thereby draw upon his

shoulders? Does he will knowledge and discernment, perhaps it might

prove to be only an eye so much the sharper to show him so much the

more fearfully the evils that are now concealed from him, and that

cannot be avoided, or to impose more wants on his desires, which

already give him concern enough. Would he have long life? who

guarantees to him that it would not be a long misery? would he at

least have health? how often has uneasiness of the body restrained

from excesses into which perfect health would have allowed one to

fall? and so on. In short, he is unable, on any principle, to

determine with certainty what would make him truly happy; because to

do so he would need to be omniscient. We cannot therefore act on any

definite principles to secure happiness, but only on empirical

counsels, e.g. of regimen, frugality, courtesy, reserve, etc., which

experience teaches do, on the average, most promote well-being.

Hence it follows that the imperatives of prudence do not, strictly

speaking, command at all, that is, they cannot present actions

objectively as practically necessary; that they are rather to be

regarded as counsels (consilia) than precepts precepts of reason, that

the problem to determine certainly and universally what action would

promote the happiness of a rational being is completely insoluble, and

consequently no imperative respecting it is possible which should,

in the strict sense, command to do what makes happy; because happiness

is not an ideal of reason but of imagination, resting solely on

empirical grounds, and it is vain to expect that these should define

an action by which one could attain the totality of a series of

consequences which is really endless. This imperative of prudence

would however be an analytical proposition if we assume that the means

to happiness could be certainly assigned; for it is distinguished from

the imperative of skill only by this, that in the latter the end is

merely possible, in the former it is given; as however both only

ordain the means to that which we suppose to be willed as an end, it

follows that the imperative which ordains the willing of the means

to him who wills the end is in both cases analytical. Thus there is no

difficulty in regard to the possibility of an imperative of this

kind either.

  On the other hand, the question how the imperative of morality is

possible, is undoubtedly one, the only one, demanding a solution, as

this is not at all hypothetical, and the objective necessity which

it presents cannot rest on any hypothesis, as is the case with the

hypothetical imperatives. Only here we must never leave out of

consideration that we cannot make out by any example, in other words

empirically, whether there is such an imperative at all, but it is

rather to be feared that all those which seem to be categorical may

yet be at bottom hypothetical. For instance, when the precept is:

"Thou shalt not promise deceitfully"; and it is assumed that the

necessity of this is not a mere counsel to avoid some other evil, so

that it should mean: "Thou shalt not make a lying promise, lest if

it become known thou shouldst destroy thy credit," but that an

action of this kind must be regarded as evil in itself, so that the

imperative of the prohibition is categorical; then we cannot show with

certainty in any example that the will was determined merely by the

law, without any other spring of action, although it may appear to

be so. For it is always possible that fear of disgrace, perhaps also

obscure dread of other dangers, may have a secret influence on the

will. Who can prove by experience the non-existence of a cause when

all that experience tells us is that we do not perceive it? But in

such a case the so-called moral imperative, which as such appears to

be categorical and unconditional, would in reality be only a pragmatic

precept, drawing our attention to our own interests and merely

teaching us to take these into consideration.

  We shall therefore have to investigate a priori the possibility of a

categorical imperative, as we have not in this case the advantage of

its reality being given in experience, so that [the elucidation of]

its possibility should be requisite only for its explanation, not

for its establishment. In the meantime it may be discerned

beforehand that the categorical imperative alone has the purport of

a practical law; all the rest may indeed be called principles of the

will but not laws, since whatever is only necessary for the attainment

of some arbitrary purpose may be considered as in itself contingent,

and we can at any time be free from the precept if we give up the

purpose; on the contrary, the unconditional command leaves the will no

liberty to choose the opposite; consequently it alone carries with

it that necessity which we require in a law.

  Secondly, in the case of this categorical imperative or law of

morality, the difficulty (of discerning its possibility) is a very

profound one. It is an a priori synthetical practical proposition;*

and as there is so much difficulty in discerning the possibility of

speculative propositions of this kind, it may readily be supposed that

the difficulty will be no less with the practical.

  *I connect the act with the will without presupposing any

condition resulting from any inclination, but a priori, and

therefore necessarily (though only objectively, i.e., assuming the

idea of a reason possessing full power over all subjective motives).

This is accordingly a practical proposition which does not deduce

the willing of an action by mere analysis from another already

presupposed (for we have not such a perfect will), but connects it

immediately with the conception of the will of a rational being, as

something not contained in it.

  In this problem we will first inquire whether the mere conception of

a categorical imperative may not perhaps supply us also with the

formula of it, containing the proposition which alone can be a

categorical imperative; for even if we know the tenor of such an

absolute command, yet how it is possible will require further

special and laborious study, which we postpone to the last section.

  When I conceive a hypothetical imperative, in general I do not

know beforehand what it will contain until I am given the condition.

But when I conceive a categorical imperative, I know at once what it

contains. For as the imperative contains besides the law only the

necessity that the maxims* shall conform to this law, while the law

contains no conditions restricting it, there remains nothing but the

general statement that the maxim of the action should conform to a

universal law, and it is this conformity alone that the imperative

properly represents as necessary.

  *A maxim is a subjective principle of action, and must be

distinguished from the objective principle, namely, practical law. The

former contains the practical rule set by reason according to the

conditions of the subject (often its ignorance or its inclinations),

so that it is the principle on which the subject acts; but the law

is the objective principle valid for every rational being, and is

the principle on which it ought to act that is an imperative.

  There is therefore but one categorical imperative, namely, this: Act

only on that maxim whereby thou canst at the same time will that it

should become a universal law.

  Now if all imperatives of duty can be deduced from this one

imperative as from their principle, then, although it should remain

undecided what is called duty is not merely a vain notion, yet at

least we shall be able to show what we understand by it and what

this notion means.

  Since the universality of the law according to which effects are

produced constitutes what is properly called nature in the most

general sense (as to form), that is the existence of things so far

as it is determined by general laws, the imperative of duty may be

expressed thus: Act as if the maxim of thy action were to become by

thy will a universal law of nature.

  We will now enumerate a few duties, adopting the usual division of

them into duties to ourselves and ourselves and to others, and into

perfect and imperfect duties.*

  *It must be noted here that I reserve the division of duties for a

future metaphysic of morals; so that I give it here only as an

arbitrary one (in order to arrange my examples). For the rest, I

understand by a perfect duty one that admits no exception in favour of

inclination and then I have not merely external but also internal

perfect duties. This is contrary to the use of the word adopted in the

schools; but I do not intend to justify there, as it is all one for my

purpose whether it is admitted or not.

  1. A man reduced to despair by a series of misfortunes feels wearied

of life, but is still so far in possession of his reason that he can

ask himself whether it would not be contrary to his duty to himself to

take his own life. Now he inquires whether the maxim of his action

could become a universal law of nature. His maxim is: "From

self-love I adopt it as a principle to shorten my life when its longer

duration is likely to bring more evil than satisfaction." It is

asked then simply whether this principle founded on self-love can

become a universal law of nature. Now we see at once that a system

of nature of which it should be a law to destroy life by means of

the very feeling whose special nature it is to impel to the

improvement of life would contradict itself and, therefore, could

not exist as a system of nature; hence that maxim cannot possibly

exist as a universal law of nature and, consequently, would be

wholly inconsistent with the supreme principle of all duty.

  2. Another finds himself forced by necessity to borrow money. He

knows that he will not be able to repay it, but sees also that nothing

will be lent to him unless he promises stoutly to repay it in a

definite time. He desires to make this promise, but he has still so

much conscience as to ask himself: "Is it not unlawful and

inconsistent with duty to get out of a difficulty in this way?"

Suppose however that he resolves to do so: then the maxim of his

action would be expressed thus: "When I think myself in want of money,

I will borrow money and promise to repay it, although I know that I

never can do so." Now this principle of self-love or of one's own

advantage may perhaps be consistent with my whole future welfare;

but the question now is, "Is it right?" I change then the suggestion

of self-love into a universal law, and state the question thus: "How

would it be if my maxim were a universal law?" Then I see at once that

it could never hold as a universal law of nature, but would

necessarily contradict itself. For supposing it to be a universal

law that everyone when he thinks himself in a difficulty should be

able to promise whatever he pleases, with the purpose of not keeping

his promise, the promise itself would become impossible, as well as

the end that one might have in view in it, since no one would consider

that anything was promised to him, but would ridicule all such

statements as vain pretences.

  3. A third finds in himself a talent which with the help of some

culture might make him a useful man in many respects. But he finds

himself in comfortable circumstances and prefers to indulge in

pleasure rather than to take pains in enlarging and improving his

happy natural capacities. He asks, however, whether his maxim of

neglect of his natural gifts, besides agreeing with his inclination to

indulgence, agrees also with what is called duty. He sees then that

a system of nature could indeed subsist with such a universal law

although men (like the South Sea islanders) should let their talents

rest and resolve to devote their lives merely to idleness,

amusement, and propagation of their species- in a word, to

enjoyment; but he cannot possibly will that this should be a universal

law of nature, or be implanted in us as such by a natural instinct.

For, as a rational being, he necessarily wills that his faculties be

developed, since they serve him and have been given him, for all sorts

of possible purposes.

  4. A fourth, who is in prosperity, while he sees that others have to

contend with great wretchedness and that he could help them, thinks:

"What concern is it of mine? Let everyone be as happy as Heaven

pleases, or as be can make himself; I will take nothing from him nor

even envy him, only I do not wish to contribute anything to his

welfare or to his assistance in distress!" Now no doubt if such a mode

of thinking were a universal law, the human race might very well

subsist and doubtless even better than in a state in which everyone

talks of sympathy and good-will, or even takes care occasionally to

put it into practice, but, on the other side, also cheats when he can,

betrays the rights of men, or otherwise violates them. But although it

is possible that a universal law of nature might exist in accordance

with that maxim, it is impossible to will that such a principle should

have the universal validity of a law of nature. For a will which

resolved this would contradict itself, inasmuch as many cases might

occur in which one would have need of the love and sympathy of others,

and in which, by such a law of nature, sprung from his own will, he

would deprive himself of all hope of the aid he desires.

  These are a few of the many actual duties, or at least what we

regard as such, which obviously fall into two classes on the one

principle that we have laid down. We must be able to will that a maxim

of our action should be a universal law. This is the canon of the

moral appreciation of the action generally. Some actions are of such a

character that their maxim cannot without contradiction be even

conceived as a universal law of nature, far from it being possible

that we should will that it should be so. In others this intrinsic

impossibility is not found, but still it is impossible to will that

their maxim should be raised to the universality of a law of nature,

since such a will would contradict itself It is easily seen that the

former violate strict or rigorous (inflexible) duty; the latter only

laxer (meritorious) duty. Thus it has been completely shown how all

duties depend as regards the nature of the obligation (not the

object of the action) on the same principle.

  If now we attend to ourselves on occasion of any transgression of

duty, we shall find that we in fact do not will that our maxim

should be a universal law, for that is impossible for us; on the

contrary, we will that the opposite should remain a universal law,

only we assume the liberty of making an exception in our own favour or

(just for this time only) in favour of our inclination. Consequently

if we considered all cases from one and the same point of view,

namely, that of reason, we should find a contradiction in our own

will, namely, that a certain principle should be objectively necessary

as a universal law, and yet subjectively should not be universal,

but admit of exceptions. As however we at one moment regard our action

from the point of view of a will wholly conformed to reason, and

then again look at the same action from the point of view of a will

affected by inclination, there is not really any contradiction, but an

antagonism of inclination to the precept of reason, whereby the

universality of the principle is changed into a mere generality, so

that the practical principle of reason shall meet the maxim half

way. Now, although this cannot be justified in our own impartial

judgement, yet it proves that we do really recognise the validity of

the categorical imperative and (with all respect for it) only allow

ourselves a few exceptions, which we think unimportant and forced from

us.

  We have thus established at least this much, that if duty is a

conception which is to have any import and real legislative

authority for our actions, it can only be expressed in categorical and

not at all in hypothetical imperatives. We have also, which is of

great importance, exhibited clearly and definitely for every practical

application the content of the categorical imperative, which must

contain the principle of all duty if there is such a thing at all.

We have not yet, however, advanced so far as to prove a priori that

there actually is such an imperative, that there is a practical law

which commands absolutely of itself and without any other impulse, and

that the following of this law is duty.

  With the view of attaining to this, it is of extreme importance to

remember that we must not allow ourselves to think of deducing the

reality of this principle from the particular attributes of human

nature. For duty is to be a practical, unconditional necessity of

action; it must therefore hold for all rational beings (to whom an

imperative can apply at all), and for this reason only be also a law

for all human wills. On the contrary, whatever is deduced from the

particular natural characteristics of humanity, from certain

feelings and propensions, nay, even, if possible, from any

particular tendency proper to human reason, and which need not

necessarily hold for the will of every rational being; this may indeed

supply us with a maxim, but not with a law; with a subjective

principle on which we may have a propension and inclination to act,

but not with an objective principle on which we should be enjoined

to act, even though all our propensions, inclinations, and natural

dispositions were opposed to it. In fact, the sublimity and

intrinsic dignity of the command in duty are so much the more evident,

the less the subjective impulses favour it and the more they oppose

it, without being able in the slightest degree to weaken the

obligation of the law or to diminish its validity.

  Here then we see philosophy brought to a critical position, since it

has to be firmly fixed, notwithstanding that it has nothing to support

it in heaven or earth. Here it must show its purity as absolute

director of its own laws, not the herald of those which are

whispered to it by an implanted sense or who knows what tutelary

nature. Although these may be better than nothing, yet they can

never afford principles dictated by reason, which must have their

source wholly a priori and thence their commanding authority,

expecting everything from the supremacy of the law and the due respect

for it, nothing from inclination, or else condemning the man to

self-contempt and inward abhorrence.

  Thus every empirical element is not only quite incapable of being an

aid to the principle of morality, but is even highly prejudicial to

the purity of morals, for the proper and inestimable worth of an

absolutely good will consists just in this, that the principle of

action is free from all influence of contingent grounds, which alone

experience can furnish. We cannot too much or too often repeat our

warning against this lax and even mean habit of thought which seeks

for its principle amongst empirical motives and laws; for human reason

in its weariness is glad to rest on this pillow, and in a dream of

sweet illusions (in which, instead of Juno, it embraces a cloud) it

substitutes for morality a bastard patched up from limbs of various

derivation, which looks like anything one chooses to see in it, only

not like virtue to one who has once beheld her in her true form.*

  *To behold virtue in her proper form is nothing else but to

contemplate morality stripped of all admixture of sensible things

and of every spurious ornament of reward or self-love. How much she

then eclipses everything else that appears charming to the affections,

every one may readily perceive with the least exertion of his

reason, if it be not wholly spoiled for abstraction.

  The question then is this: "Is it a necessary law for all rational

beings that they should always judge of their actions by maxims of

which they can themselves will that they should serve as universal

laws?" If it is so, then it must be connected (altogether a priori)

with the very conception of the will of a rational being generally.

But in order to discover this connexion we must, however

reluctantly, take a step into metaphysic, although into a domain of it

which is distinct from speculative philosophy, namely, the

metaphysic of morals. In a practical philosophy, where it is not the

reasons of what happens that we have to ascertain, but the laws of

what ought to happen, even although it never does, i.e., objective

practical laws, there it is not necessary to inquire into the

reasons why anything pleases or displeases, how the pleasure of mere

sensation differs from taste, and whether the latter is distinct

from a general satisfaction of reason; on what the feeling of pleasure

or pain rests, and how from it desires and inclinations arise, and

from these again maxims by the co-operation of reason: for all this

belongs to an empirical psychology, which would constitute the

second part of physics, if we regard physics as the philosophy of

nature, so far as it is based on empirical laws. But here we are

concerned with objective practical laws and, consequently, with the

relation of the will to itself so far as it is determined by reason

alone, in which case whatever has reference to anything empirical is

necessarily excluded; since if reason of itself alone determines the

conduct (and it is the possibility of this that we are now

investigating), it must necessarily do so a priori.

  The will is conceived as a faculty of determining oneself to

action in accordance with the conception of certain laws. And such a

faculty can be found only in rational beings. Now that which serves

the will as the objective ground of its self-determination is the end,

and, if this is assigned by reason alone, it must hold for all

rational beings. On the other hand, that which merely contains the

ground of possibility of the action of which the effect is the end,

this is called the means. The subjective ground of the desire is the

spring, the objective ground of the volition is the motive; hence

the distinction between subjective ends which rest on springs, and

objective ends which depend on motives valid for every rational being.

Practical principles are formal when they abstract from all subjective

ends; they are material when they assume these, and therefore

particular springs of action. The ends which a rational being proposes

to himself at pleasure as effects of his actions (material ends) are

all only relative, for it is only their relation to the particular

desires of the subject that gives them their worth, which therefore

cannot furnish principles universal and necessary for all rational

beings and for every volition, that is to say practical laws. Hence

all these relative ends can give rise only to hypothetical

imperatives.

  Supposing, however, that there were something whose existence has in

itself an absolute worth, something which, being an end in itself,

could be a source of definite laws; then in this and this alone

would lie the source of a possible categorical imperative, i.e., a

practical law.

  Now I say: man and generally any rational being exists as an end

in himself, not merely as a means to be arbitrarily used by this or

that will, but in all his actions, whether they concern himself or

other rational beings, must be always regarded at the same time as

an end. All objects of the inclinations have only a conditional worth,

for if the inclinations and the wants founded on them did not exist,

then their object would be without value. But the inclinations,

themselves being sources of want, are so far from having an absolute

worth for which they should be desired that on the contrary it must be

the universal wish of every rational being to be wholly free from

them. Thus the worth of any object which is to be acquired by our

action is always conditional. Beings whose existence depends not on

our will but on nature's, have nevertheless, if they are irrational

beings, only a relative value as means, and are therefore called

things; rational beings, on the contrary, are called persons,

because their very nature points them out as ends in themselves,

that is as something which must not be used merely as means, and so

far therefore restricts freedom of action (and is an object of

respect). These, therefore, are not merely subjective ends whose

existence has a worth for us as an effect of our action, but objective

ends, that is, things whose existence is an end in itself; an end

moreover for which no other can be substituted, which they should

subserve merely as means, for otherwise nothing whatever would possess

absolute worth; but if all worth were conditioned and therefore

contingent, then there would be no supreme practical principle of

reason whatever.

  If then there is a supreme practical principle or, in respect of the

human will, a categorical imperative, it must be one which, being

drawn from the conception of that which is necessarily an end for

everyone because it is an end in itself, constitutes an objective

principle of will, and can therefore serve as a universal practical

law. The foundation of this principle is: rational nature exists as an

end in itself. Man necessarily conceives his own existence as being

so; so far then this is a subjective principle of human actions. But

every other rational being regards its existence similarly, just on

the same rational principle that holds for me:* so that it is at the

same time an objective principle, from which as a supreme practical

law all laws of the will must be capable of being deduced. Accordingly

the practical imperative will be as follows: So act as to treat

humanity, whether in thine own person or in that of any other, in

every case as an end withal, never as means only. We will now

inquire whether this can be practically carried out.

  *This proposition is here stated as a postulate. The ground of it

will be found in the concluding section.

  To abide by the previous examples:

  Firstly, under the head of necessary duty to oneself: He who

contemplates suicide should ask himself whether his action can be

consistent with the idea of humanity as an end in itself. If he

destroys himself in order to escape from painful circumstances, he

uses a person merely as a mean to maintain a tolerable condition up to

the end of life. But a man is not a thing, that is to say, something

which can be used merely as means, but must in all his actions be

always considered as an end in himself. I cannot, therefore, dispose

in any way of a man in my own person so as to mutilate him, to

damage or kill him. (It belongs to ethics proper to define this

principle more precisely, so as to avoid all misunderstanding, e.

g., as to the amputation of the limbs in order to preserve myself,

as to exposing my life to danger with a view to preserve it, etc. This

question is therefore omitted here.)

  Secondly, as regards necessary duties, or those of strict

obligation, towards others: He who is thinking of making a lying

promise to others will see at once that he would be using another

man merely as a mean, without the latter containing at the same time

the end in himself. For he whom I propose by such a promise to use for

my own purposes cannot possibly assent to my mode of acting towards

him and, therefore, cannot himself contain the end of this action.

This violation of the principle of humanity in other men is more

obvious if we take in examples of attacks on the freedom and

property of others. For then it is clear that he who transgresses

the rights of men intends to use the person of others merely as a

means, without considering that as rational beings they ought always

to be esteemed also as ends, that is, as beings who must be capable of

containing in themselves the end of the very same action.*

  *Let it not be thought that the common "quod tibi non vis fieri,

etc." could serve here as the rule or principle. For it is only a

deduction from the former, though with several limitations; it

cannot be a universal law, for it does not contain the principle of

duties to oneself, nor of the duties of benevolence to others (for

many a one would gladly consent that others should not benefit him,

provided only that he might be excused from showing benevolence to

them), nor finally that of duties of strict obligation to one another,

for on this principle the criminal might argue against the judge who

punishes him, and so on.

  Thirdly, as regards contingent (meritorious) duties to oneself: It

is not enough that the action does not violate humanity in our own

person as an end in itself, it must also harmonize with it. Now

there are in humanity capacities of greater perfection, which belong

to the end that nature has in view in regard to humanity in

ourselves as the subject: to neglect these might perhaps be consistent

with the maintenance of humanity as an end in itself, but not with the

advancement of this end.

  Fourthly, as regards meritorious duties towards others: The

natural end which all men have is their own happiness. Now humanity

might indeed subsist, although no one should contribute anything to

the happiness of others, provided he did not intentionally withdraw

anything from it; but after all this would only harmonize negatively

not positively with humanity as an end in itself, if every one does

not also endeavour, as far as in him lies, to forward the ends of

others. For the ends of any subject which is an end in himself ought

as far as possible to be my ends also, if that conception is to have

its full effect with me.

  This principle, that humanity and generally every rational nature is

an end in itself (which is the supreme limiting condition of every

man's freedom of action), is not borrowed from experience, firstly,

because it is universal, applying as it does to all rational beings

whatever, and experience is not capable of determining anything

about them; secondly, because it does not present humanity as an end

to men (subjectively), that is as an object which men do of themselves

actually adopt as an end; but as an objective end, which must as a law

constitute the supreme limiting condition of all our subjective

ends, let them be what we will; it must therefore spring from pure

reason. In fact the objective principle of all practical legislation

lies (according to the first principle) in the rule and its form of

universality which makes it capable of being a law (say, e. g., a

law of nature); but the subjective principle is in the end; now by the

second principle the subject of all ends is each rational being,

inasmuch as it is an end in itself. Hence follows the third

practical principle of the will, which is the ultimate condition of

its harmony with universal practical reason, viz.: the idea of the

will of every rational being as a universally legislative will.

  On this principle all maxims are rejected which are inconsistent

with the will being itself universal legislator. Thus the will is

not subject simply to the law, but so subject that it must be regarded

as itself giving the law and, on this ground only, subject to the

law (of which it can regard itself as the author).

  In the previous imperatives, namely, that based on the conception of

the conformity of actions to general laws, as in a physical system

of nature, and that based on the universal prerogative of rational

beings as ends in themselves- these imperatives, just because they

were conceived as categorical, excluded from any share in their

authority all admixture of any interest as a spring of action; they

were, however, only assumed to be categorical, because such an

assumption was necessary to explain the conception of duty. But we

could not prove independently that there are practical propositions

which command categorically, nor can it be proved in this section; one

thing, however, could be done, namely, to indicate in the imperative

itself, by some determinate expression, that in the case of volition

from duty all interest is renounced, which is the specific criterion

of categorical as distinguished from hypothetical imperatives. This is

done in the present (third) formula of the principle, namely, in the

idea of the will of every rational being as a universally

legislating will.

  For although a will which is subject to laws may be attached to this

law by means of an interest, yet a will which is itself a supreme

lawgiver so far as it is such cannot possibly depend on any

interest, since a will so dependent would itself still need another

law restricting the interest of its self-love by the condition that it

should be valid as universal law.

  Thus the principle that every human will is a will which in all

its maxims gives universal laws,* provided it be otherwise

justified, would be very well adapted to be the categorical

imperative, in this respect, namely, that just because of the idea

of universal legislation it is not based on interest, and therefore it

alone among all possible imperatives can be unconditional. Or still

better, converting the proposition, if there is a categorical

imperative (i.e., a law for the will of every rational being), it

can only command that everything be done from maxims of one's will

regarded as a will which could at the same time will that it should

itself give universal laws, for in that case only the practical

principle and the imperative which it obeys are unconditional, since

they cannot be based on any interest.

  *I may be excused from adducing examples to elucidate this

principle, as those which have already been used to elucidate the

categorical imperative and its formula would all serve for the like

purpose here.

  Looking back now on all previous attempts to discover the

principle of morality, we need not wonder why they all failed. It

was seen that man was bound to laws by duty, but it was not observed

that the laws to which he is subject are only those of his own giving,

though at the same time they are universal, and that he is only

bound to act in conformity with his own will; a will, however, which

is designed by nature to give universal laws. For when one has

conceived man only as subject to a law (no matter what), then this law

required some interest, either by way of attraction or constraint,

since it did not originate as a law from his own will, but this will

was according to a law obliged by something else to act in a certain

manner. Now by this necessary consequence all the labour spent in

finding a supreme principle of duty was irrevocably lost. For men

never elicited duty, but only a necessity of acting from a certain

interest. Whether this interest was private or otherwise, in any

case the imperative must be conditional and could not by any means

be capable of being a moral command. I will therefore call this the

principle of autonomy of the will, in contrast with every other

which I accordingly reckon as heteronomy.

  The conception of the will of every rational being as one which must

consider itself as giving in all the maxims of its will universal

laws, so as to judge itself and its actions from this point of view-

this conception leads to another which depends on it and is very

fruitful, namely that of a kingdom of ends.

  By a kingdom I understand the union of different rational beings

in a system by common laws. Now since it is by laws that ends are

determined as regards their universal validity, hence, if we

abstract from the personal differences of rational beings and likewise

from all the content of their private ends, we shall be able to

conceive all ends combined in a systematic whole (including both

rational beings as ends in themselves, and also the special ends which

each may propose to himself), that is to say, we can conceive a

kingdom of ends, which on the preceding principles is possible.

  For all rational beings come under the law that each of them must

treat itself and all others never merely as means, but in every case

at the same time as ends in themselves. Hence results a systematic

union of rational being by common objective laws, i.e., a kingdom

which may be called a kingdom of ends, since what these laws have in

view is just the relation of these beings to one another as ends and

means. It is certainly only an ideal.

  A rational being belongs as a member to the kingdom of ends when,

although giving universal laws in it, he is also himself subject to

these laws. He belongs to it as sovereign when, while giving laws,

he is not subject to the will of any other.

  A rational being must always regard himself as giving laws either as

member or as sovereign in a kingdom of ends which is rendered possible

by the freedom of will. He cannot, however, maintain the latter

position merely by the maxims of his will, but only in case he is a

completely independent being without wants and with unrestricted power

adequate to his will.

  Morality consists then in the reference of all action to the

legislation which alone can render a kingdom of ends possible. This

legislation must be capable of existing in every rational being and of

emanating from his will, so that the principle of this will is never

to act on any maxim which could not without contradiction be also a

universal law and, accordingly, always so to act that the will could

at the same time regard itself as giving in its maxims universal laws.

If now the maxims of rational beings are not by their own nature

coincident with this objective principle, then the necessity of acting

on it is called practical necessitation, i.e., duty. Duty does not

apply to the sovereign in the kingdom of ends, but it does to every

member of it and to all in the same degree.

  The practical necessity of acting on this principle, i.e., duty,

does not rest at all on feelings, impulses, or inclinations, but

solely on the relation of rational beings to one another, a relation

in which the will of a rational being must always be regarded as

legislative, since otherwise it could not be conceived as an end in

itself. Reason then refers every maxim of the will, regarding it as

legislating universally, to every other will and also to every

action towards oneself; and this not on account of any other practical

motive or any future advantage, but from the idea of the dignity of

a rational being, obeying no law but that which he himself also gives.

  In the kingdom of ends everything has either value or dignity.

Whatever has a value can be replaced by something else which is

equivalent; whatever, on the other hand, is above all value, and

therefore admits of no equivalent, has a dignity.

  Whatever has reference to the general inclinations and wants of

mankind has a market value; whatever, without presupposing a want,

corresponds to a certain taste, that is to a satisfaction in the

mere purposeless play of our faculties, has a fancy value; but that

which constitutes the condition under which alone anything can be an

end in itself, this has not merely a relative worth, i.e., value,

but an intrinsic worth, that is, dignity.

  Now morality is the condition under which alone a rational being can

be an end in himself, since by this alone is it possible that he

should be a legislating member in the kingdom of ends. Thus

morality, and humanity as capable of it, is that which alone has

dignity. Skill and diligence in labour have a market value; wit,

lively imagination, and humour, have fancy value; on the other hand,

fidelity to promises, benevolence from principle (not from

instinct), have an intrinsic worth. Neither nature nor art contains

anything which in default of these it could put in their place, for

their worth consists not in the effects which spring from them, not in

the use and advantage which they secure, but in the disposition of

mind, that is, the maxims of the will which are ready to manifest

themselves in such actions, even though they should not have the

desired effect. These actions also need no recommendation from any

subjective taste or sentiment, that they may be looked on with

immediate favour and satisfaction: they need no immediate propension

or feeling for them; they exhibit the will that performs them as an

object of an immediate respect, and nothing but reason is required

to impose them on the will; not to flatter it into them, which, in the

case of duties, would be a contradiction. This estimation therefore

shows that the worth of such a disposition is dignity, and places it

infinitely above all value, with which it cannot for a moment be

brought into comparison or competition without as it were violating

its sanctity.

  What then is it which justifies virtue or the morally good

disposition, in making such lofty claims? It is nothing less than

the privilege it secures to the rational being of participating in the

giving of universal laws, by which it qualifies him to be a member

of a possible kingdom of ends, a privilege to which he was already

destined by his own nature as being an end in himself and, on that

account, legislating in the kingdom of ends; free as regards all

laws of physical nature, and obeying those only which he himself

gives, and by which his maxims can belong to a system of universal

law, to which at the same time he submits himself. For nothing has any

worth except what the law assigns it. Now the legislation itself which

assigns the worth of everything must for that very reason possess

dignity, that is an unconditional incomparable worth; and the word

respect alone supplies a becoming expression for the esteem which a

rational being must have for it. Autonomy then is the basis of the

dignity of human and of every rational nature.

  The three modes of presenting the principle of morality that have

been adduced are at bottom only so many formulae of the very same law,

and each of itself involves the other two. There is, however, a

difference in them, but it is rather subjectively than objectively

practical, intended namely to bring an idea of the reason nearer to

intuition (by means of a certain analogy) and thereby nearer to

feeling. All maxims, in fact, have:

  1. A form, consisting in universality; and in this view the

formula of the moral imperative is expressed thus, that the maxims

must be so chosen as if they were to serve as universal laws of

nature.

  2. A matter, namely, an end, and here the formula says that the

rational being, as it is an end by its own nature and therefore an end

in itself, must in every maxim serve as the condition limiting all

merely relative and arbitrary ends.

  3. A complete characterization of all maxims by means of that

formula, namely, that all maxims ought by their own legislation to

harmonize with a possible kingdom of ends as with a kingdom of

nature.* There is a progress here in the order of the categories of

unity of the form of the will (its universality), plurality of the

matter (the objects, i.e., the ends), and totality of the system of

these. In forming our moral judgement of actions, it is better to

proceed always on the strict method and start from the general formula

of the categorical imperative: Act according to a maxim which can at

the same time make itself a universal law. If, however, we wish to

gain an entrance for the moral law, it is very useful to bring one and

the same action under the three specified conceptions, and thereby

as far as possible to bring it nearer to intuition.

  *Teleology considers nature as a kingdom of ends; ethics regards a

possible kingdom of ends as a kingdom nature. In the first case, the

kingdom of ends is a theoretical idea, adopted to explain what

actually is. In the latter it is a practical idea, adopted to bring

about that which is not yet, but which can be realized by our conduct,

namely, if it conforms to this idea.

  We can now end where we started at the beginning, namely, with the

conception of a will unconditionally good. That will is absolutely

good which cannot be evil- in other words, whose maxim, if made a

universal law, could never contradict itself. This principle, then, is

its supreme law: "Act always on such a maxim as thou canst at the same

time will to be a universal law"; this is the sole condition under

which a will can never contradict itself; and such an imperative is

categorical. Since the validity of the will as a universal law for

possible actions is analogous to the universal connexion of the

existence of things by general laws, which is the formal notion of

nature in general, the categorical imperative can also be expressed

thus: Act on maxims which can at the same time have for their object

themselves as universal laws of nature. Such then is the formula of an

absolutely good will.

  Rational nature is distinguished from the rest of nature by this,

that it sets before itself an end. This end would be the matter of

every good will. But since in the idea of a will that is absolutely

good without being limited by any condition (of attaining this or that

end) we must abstract wholly from every end to be effected (since this

would make every will only relatively good), it follows that in this

case the end must be conceived, not as an end to be effected, but as

an independently existing end. Consequently it is conceived only

negatively, i.e., as that which we must never act against and which,

therefore, must never be regarded merely as means, but must in every

volition be esteemed as an end likewise. Now this end can be nothing

but the subject of all possible ends, since this is also the subject

of a possible absolutely good will; for such a will cannot without

contradiction be postponed to any other object. The principle: "So act

in regard to every rational being (thyself and others), that he may

always have place in thy maxim as an end in himself," is accordingly

essentially identical with this other: "Act upon a maxim which, at the

same time, involves its own universal validity for every rational

being." For that in using means for every end I should limit my

maxim by the condition of its holding good as a law for every subject,

this comes to the same thing as that the fundamental principle of

all maxims of action must be that the subject of all ends, i.e., the

rational being himself, be never employed merely as means, but as

the supreme condition restricting the use of all means, that is in

every case as an end likewise.

  It follows incontestably that, to whatever laws any rational being

may be subject, he being an end in himself must be able to regard

himself as also legislating universally in respect of these same laws,

since it is just this fitness of his maxims for universal

legislation that distinguishes him as an end in himself; also it

follows that this implies his dignity (prerogative) above all mere

physical beings, that he must always take his maxims from the point of

view which regards himself and, likewise, every other rational being

as law-giving beings (on which account they are called persons). In

this way a world of rational beings (mundus intelligibilis) is

possible as a kingdom of ends, and this by virtue of the legislation

proper to all persons as members. Therefore every rational being

must so act as if he were by his maxims in every case a legislating

member in the universal kingdom of ends. The formal principle of these

maxims is: "So act as if thy maxim were to serve likewise as the

universal law (of all rational beings)." A kingdom of ends is thus

only possible on the analogy of a kingdom of nature, the former

however only by maxims, that is self-imposed rules, the latter only by

the laws of efficient causes acting under necessitation from

without. Nevertheless, although the system of nature is looked upon as

a machine, yet so far as it has reference to rational beings as its

ends, it is given on this account the name of a kingdom of nature. Now

such a kingdom of ends would be actually realized by means of maxims

conforming to the canon which the categorical imperative prescribes to

all rational beings, if they were universally followed. But although a

rational being, even if he punctually follows this maxim himself,

cannot reckon upon all others being therefore true to the same, nor

expect that the kingdom of nature and its orderly arrangements shall

be in harmony with him as a fitting member, so as to form a kingdom of

ends to which he himself contributes, that is to say, that it shall

favour his expectation of happiness, still that law: "Act according to

the maxims of a member of a merely possible kingdom of ends

legislating in it universally," remains in its full force, inasmuch as

it commands categorically. And it is just in this that the paradox

lies; that the mere dignity of man as a rational creature, without any

other end or advantage to be attained thereby, in other words, respect

for a mere idea, should yet serve as an inflexible precept of the

will, and that it is precisely in this independence of the maxim on

all such springs of action that its sublimity consists; and it is this

that makes every rational subject worthy to be a legislative member in

the kingdom of ends: for otherwise he would have to be conceived

only as subject to the physical law of his wants. And although we

should suppose the kingdom of nature and the kingdom of ends to be

united under one sovereign, so that the latter kingdom thereby

ceased to be a mere idea and acquired true reality, then it would no

doubt gain the accession of a strong spring, but by no means any

increase of its intrinsic worth. For this sole absolute lawgiver must,

notwithstanding this, be always conceived as estimating the worth of

rational beings only by their disinterested behaviour, as prescribed

to themselves from that idea [the dignity of man] alone. The essence

of things is not altered by their external relations, and that

which, abstracting from these, alone constitutes the absolute worth of

man, is also that by which he must be judged, whoever the judge may

be, and even by the Supreme Being. Morality, then, is the relation

of actions to the relation of actions will, that is, to the autonomy

of potential universal legislation by its maxims. An action that is

consistent with the autonomy of the will is permitted; one that does

not agree therewith is forbidden. A will whose maxims necessarily

coincide with the laws of autonomy is a holy will, good absolutely.

The dependence of a will not absolutely good on the principle of

autonomy (moral necessitation) is obligation. This, then, cannot be

applied to a holy being. The objective necessity of actions from

obligation is called duty.

  From what has just been said, it is easy to see how it happens that,

although the conception of duty implies subjection to the law, we

yet ascribe a certain dignity and sublimity to the person who

fulfils all his duties. There is not, indeed, any sublimity in him, so

far as he is subject to the moral law; but inasmuch as in regard to

that very law he is likewise a legislator, and on that account alone

subject to it, he has sublimity. We have also shown above that neither

fear nor inclination, but simply respect for the law, is the spring

which can give actions a moral worth. Our own will, so far as we

suppose it to act only under the condition that its maxims are

potentially universal laws, this ideal will which is possible to us is

the proper object of respect; and the dignity of humanity consists

just in this capacity of being universally legislative, though with

the condition that it is itself subject to this same legislation.

  The Autonomy of the Will as the Supreme Principle of Morality

  Autonomy of the will is that property of it by which it is a law

to itself (independently of any property of the objects of

volition). The principle of autonomy then is: "Always so to choose

that the same volition shall comprehend the maxims of our choice as

a universal law." We cannot prove that this practical rule is an

imperative, i.e., that the will of every rational being is necessarily

bound to it as a condition, by a mere analysis of the conceptions

which occur in it, since it is a synthetical proposition; we must

advance beyond the cognition of the objects to a critical

examination of the subject, that is, of the pure practical reason, for

this synthetic proposition which commands apodeictically must be

capable of being cognized wholly a priori. This matter, however,

does not belong to the present section. But that the principle of

autonomy in question is the sole principle of morals can be readily

shown by mere analysis of the conceptions of morality. For by this

analysis we find that its principle must be a categorical imperative

and that what this commands is neither more nor less than this very

autonomy.

  Heteronomy of the Will as the Source of all spurious Principles

                          of Morality

  If the will seeks the law which is to determine it anywhere else

than in the fitness of its maxims to be universal laws of its own

dictation, consequently if it goes out of itself and seeks this law in

the character of any of its objects, there always results

heteronomy. The will in that case does not give itself the law, but it

is given by the object through its relation to the will. This

relation, whether it rests on inclination or on conceptions of reason,

only admits of hypothetical imperatives: "I ought to do something

because I wish for something else." On the contrary, the moral, and

therefore categorical, imperative says: "I ought to do so and so, even

though I should not wish for anything else." E.g., the former says: "I

ought not to lie, if I would retain my reputation"; the latter says:

"I ought not to lie, although it should not bring me the least

discredit." The latter therefore must so far abstract from all objects

that they shall have no influence on the will, in order that practical

reason (will) may not be restricted to administering an interest not

belonging to it, but may simply show its own commanding authority as

the supreme legislation. Thus, e.g., I ought to endeavour to promote

the happiness of others, not as if its realization involved any

concern of mine (whether by immediate inclination or by any

satisfaction indirectly gained through reason), but simply because a

maxim which excludes it cannot be comprehended as a universal law in

one and the same volition.

    Classification of all Principles of Morality which can be

           founded on the Conception of Heteronomy

  Here as elsewhere human reason in its pure use, so long as it was

not critically examined, has first tried all possible wrong ways

before it succeeded in finding the one true way.

  All principles which can be taken from this point of view are either

empirical or rational. The former, drawn from the principle of

happiness, are built on physical or moral feelings; the latter,

drawn from the principle of perfection, are built either on the

rational conception of perfection as a possible effect, or on that

of an independent perfection (the will of God) as the determining

cause of our will.

  Empirical principles are wholly incapable of serving as a foundation

for moral laws. For the universality with which these should hold

for all rational beings without distinction, the unconditional

practical necessity which is thereby imposed on them, is lost when

their foundation is taken from the particular constitution of human

nature, or the accidental circumstances in which it is placed. The

principle of private happiness, however, is the most objectionable,

not merely because it is false, and experience contradicts the

supposition that prosperity is always proportioned to good conduct,

nor yet merely because it contributes nothing to the establishment

of morality- since it is quite a different thing to make a

prosperous man and a good man, or to make one prudent and

sharp-sighted for his own interests and to make him virtuous- but

because the springs it provides for morality are such as rather

undermine it and destroy its sublimity, since they put the motives

to virtue and to vice in the same class and only teach us to make a

better calculation, the specific difference between virtue and vice

being entirely extinguished. On the other hand, as to moral feeling,

this supposed special sense,* the appeal to it is indeed superficial

when those who cannot think believe that feeling will help them out,

even in what concerns general laws: and besides, feelings, which

naturally differ infinitely in degree, cannot furnish a uniform

standard of good and evil, nor has anyone a right to form judgements

for others by his own feelings: nevertheless this moral feeling is

nearer to morality and its dignity in this respect, that it pays

virtue the honour of ascribing to her immediately the satisfaction and

esteem we have for her and does not, as it were, tell her to her

face that we are not attached to her by her beauty but by profit.

  *I class the principle of moral feeling under that of happiness,

because every empirical interest promises to contribute to our

well-being by the agreeableness that a thing affords, whether it be

immediately and without a view to profit, or whether profit be

regarded. We must likewise, with Hutcheson, class the principle of

sympathy with the happiness of others under his assumed moral sense.

  Amongst the rational principles of morality, the ontological

conception of perfection, notwithstanding its defects, is better

than the theological conception which derives morality from a Divine

absolutely perfect will. The former is, no doubt, empty and indefinite

and consequently useless for finding in the boundless field of

possible reality the greatest amount suitable for us; moreover, in

attempting to distinguish specifically the reality of which we are now

speaking from every other, it inevitably tends to turn in a circle and

cannot avoid tacitly presupposing the morality which it is to explain;

it is nevertheless preferable to the theological view, first,

because we have no intuition of the divine perfection and can only

deduce it from our own conceptions, the most important of which is

that of morality, and our explanation would thus be involved in a

gross circle; and, in the next place, if we avoid this, the only

notion of the Divine will remaining to us is a conception made up of

the attributes of desire of glory and dominion, combined with the

awful conceptions of might and vengeance, and any system of morals

erected on this foundation would be directly opposed to morality.

  However, if I had to choose between the notion of the moral sense

and that of perfection in general (two systems which at least do not

weaken morality, although they are totally incapable of serving as its

foundation), then I should decide for the latter, because it at

least withdraws the decision of the question from the sensibility

and brings it to the court of pure reason; and although even here it

decides nothing, it at all events preserves the indefinite idea (of

a will good in itself free from corruption, until it shall be more

precisely defined.

  For the rest I think I may be excused here from a detailed

refutation of all these doctrines; that would only be superfluous

labour, since it is so easy, and is probably so well seen even by

those whose office requires them to decide for one of these theories

(because their hearers would not tolerate suspension of judgement).

But what interests us more here is to know that the prime foundation

of morality laid down by all these principles is nothing but

heteronomy of the will, and for this reason they must necessarily miss

their aim.

  In every case where an object of the will has to be supposed, in

order that the rule may be prescribed which is to determine the

will, there the rule is simply heteronomy; the imperative is

conditional, namely, if or because one wishes for this object, one

should act so and so: hence it can never command morally, that is,

categorically. Whether the object determines the will by means of

inclination, as in the principle of private happiness, or by means

of reason directed to objects of our possible volition generally, as

in the principle of perfection, in either case the will never

determines itself immediately by the conception of the action, but

only by the influence which the foreseen effect of the action has on

the will; I ought to do something, on this account, because I wish for

something else; and here there must be yet another law assumed in me

as its subject, by which I necessarily will this other thing, and this

law again requires an imperative to restrict this maxim. For the

influence which the conception of an object within the reach of our

faculties can exercise on the will of the subject, in consequence of

its natural properties, depends on the nature of the subject, either

the sensibility (inclination and taste), or the understanding and

reason, the employment of which is by the peculiar constitution of

their nature attended with satisfaction. It follows that the law would

be, properly speaking, given by nature, and, as such, it must be known

and proved by experience and would consequently be contingent and

therefore incapable of being an apodeictic practical rule, such as the

moral rule must be. Not only so, but it is inevitably only heteronomy;

the will does not give itself the law, but is given by a foreign

impulse by means of a particular natural constitution of the subject

adapted to receive it. An absolutely good will, then, the principle of

which must be a categorical imperative, will be indeterminate as

regards all objects and will contain merely the form of volition

generally, and that as autonomy, that is to say, the capability of the

maxims of every good will to make themselves a universal law, is

itself the only law which the will of every rational being imposes

on itself, without needing to assume any spring or interest as a

foundation.

  How such a synthetical practical a priori proposition is possible,

and why it is necessary, is a problem whose solution does not lie

within the bounds of the metaphysic of morals; and we have not here

affirmed its truth, much less professed to have a proof of it in our

power. We simply showed by the development of the universally received

notion of morality that an autonomy of the will is inevitably

connected with it, or rather is its foundation. Whoever then holds

morality to be anything real, and not a chimerical idea without any

truth, must likewise admit the principle of it that is here

assigned. This section then, like the first, was merely analytical.

Now to prove that morality is no creation of the brain, which it

cannot be if the categorical imperative and with it the autonomy of

the will is true, and as an a priori principle absolutely necessary,

this supposes the possibility of a synthetic use of pure practical

reason, which however we cannot venture on without first giving a

critical examination of this faculty of reason. In the concluding

section we shall give the principal outlines of this critical

examination as far as is sufficient for our purpose.

                       THIRD SECTION

        TRANSITION FROM THE METAPHYSIC OF MORALS TO THE

             CRITIQUE OF PURE PRACTICAL REASON

  The Concept of Freedom is the Key that explains the Autonomy of

the Will

  The will is a kind of causality belonging to living beings in so far

as they are rational, and freedom would be this property of such

causality that it can be efficient, independently of foreign causes

determining it; just as physical necessity is the property that the

causality of all irrational beings has of being determined to activity

by the influence of foreign causes.

  The preceding definition of freedom is negative and therefore

unfruitful for the discovery of its essence, but it leads to a

positive conception which is so much the more full and fruitful.

  Since the conception of causality involves that of laws, according

to which, by something that we call cause, something else, namely

the effect, must be produced; hence, although freedom is not a

property of the will depending on physical laws, yet it is not for

that reason lawless; on the contrary it must be a causality acting

according to immutable laws, but of a peculiar kind; otherwise a

free will would be an absurdity. Physical necessity is a heteronomy of

the efficient causes, for every effect is possible only according to

this law, that something else determines the efficient cause to

exert its causality. What else then can freedom of the will be but

autonomy, that is, the property of the will to be a law to itself? But

the proposition: "The will is in every action a law to itself," only

expresses the principle: "To act on no other maxim than that which can

also have as an object itself as a universal law." Now this is

precisely the formula of the categorical imperative and is the

principle of morality, so that a free will and a will subject to moral

laws are one and the same.

  On the hypothesis, then, of freedom of the will, morality together

with its principle follows from it by mere analysis of the conception.

However, the latter is a synthetic proposition; viz., an absolutely

good will is that whose maxim can always include itself regarded as

a universal law; for this property of its maxim can never be

discovered by analysing the conception of an absolutely good will. Now

such synthetic propositions are only possible in this way: that the

two cognitions are connected together by their union with a third in

which they are both to be found. The positive concept of freedom

furnishes this third cognition, which cannot, as with physical causes,

be the nature of the sensible world (in the concept of which we find

conjoined the concept of something in relation as cause to something

else as effect). We cannot now at once show what this third is to

which freedom points us and of which we have an idea a priori, nor can

we make intelligible how the concept of freedom is shown to be

legitimate from principles of pure practical reason and with it the

possibility of a categorical imperative; but some further

preparation is required.

     Freedom must be presupposed as a Property of the Will

                   of all Rational Beings

  It is not enough to predicate freedom of our own will, from Whatever

reason, if we have not sufficient grounds for predicating the same

of all rational beings. For as morality serves as a law for us only

because we are rational beings, it must also hold for all rational

beings; and as it must be deduced simply from the property of freedom,

it must be shown that freedom also is a property of all rational

beings. It is not enough, then, to prove it from certain supposed

experiences of human nature (which indeed is quite impossible, and

it can only be shown a priori), but we must show that it belongs to

the activity of all rational beings endowed with a will. Now I say

every being that cannot act except under the idea of freedom is just

for that reason in a practical point of view really free, that is to

say, all laws which are inseparably connected with freedom have the

same force for him as if his will had been shown to be free in

itself by a proof theoretically conclusive.* Now I affirm that we must

attribute to every rational being which has a will that it has also

the idea of freedom and acts entirely under this idea. For in such a

being we conceive a reason that is practical, that is, has causality

in reference to its objects. Now we cannot possibly conceive a

reason consciously receiving a bias from any other quarter with

respect to its judgements, for then the subject would ascribe the

determination of its judgement not to its own reason, but to an

impulse. It must regard itself as the author of its principles

independent of foreign influences. Consequently as practical reason or

as the will of a rational being it must regard itself as free, that is

to say, the will of such a being cannot be a will of its own except

under the idea of freedom. This idea must therefore in a practical

point of view be ascribed to every rational being.

  *I adopt this method of assuming freedom merely as an idea which

rational beings suppose in their actions, in order to avoid the

necessity of proving it in its theoretical aspect also. The former

is sufficient for my purpose; for even though the speculative proof

should not be made out, yet a being that cannot act except with the

idea of freedom is bound by the same laws that would oblige a being

who was actually free. Thus we can escape here from the onus which

presses on the theory.

      Of the Interest attaching to the Ideas of Morality

  We have finally reduced the definite conception of morality to the

idea of freedom. This latter, however, we could not prove to be

actually a property of ourselves or of human nature; only we saw

that it must be presupposed if we would conceive a being as rational

and conscious of its causality in respect of its actions, i.e., as

endowed with a will; and so we find that on just the same grounds we

must ascribe to every being endowed with reason and will this

attribute of determining itself to action under the idea of its

freedom.

  Now it resulted also from the presupposition of these ideas that

we became aware of a law that the subjective principles of action,

i.e., maxims, must always be so assumed that they can also hold as

objective, that is, universal principles, and so serve as universal

laws of our own dictation. But why then should I subject myself to

this principle and that simply as a rational being, thus also

subjecting to it all other being endowed with reason? I will allow

that no interest urges me to this, for that would not give a

categorical imperative, but I must take an interest in it and

discern how this comes to pass; for this properly an "I ought" is

properly an "I would," valid for every rational being, provided only

that reason determined his actions without any hindrance. But for

beings that are in addition affected as we are by springs of a

different kind, namely, sensibility, and in whose case that is not

always done which reason alone would do, for these that necessity is

expressed only as an "ought," and the subjective necessity is

different from the objective.

  It seems then as if the moral law, that is, the principle of

autonomy of the will, were properly speaking only presupposed in the

idea of freedom, and as if we could not prove its reality and

objective necessity independently. In that case we should still have

gained something considerable by at least determining the true

principle more exactly than had previously been done; but as regards

its validity and the practical necessity of subjecting oneself to

it, we should not have advanced a step. For if we were asked why the

universal validity of our maxim as a law must be the condition

restricting our actions, and on what we ground the worth which we

assign to this manner of acting- a worth so great that there cannot be

any higher interest; and if we were asked further how it happens

that it is by this alone a man believes he feels his own personal

worth, in comparison with which that of an agreeable or disagreeable

condition is to be regarded as nothing, to these questions we could

give no satisfactory answer.

  We find indeed sometimes that we can take an interest in a

personal quality which does not involve any interest of external

condition, provided this quality makes us capable of participating

in the condition in case reason were to effect the allotment; that

is to say, the mere being worthy of happiness can interest of itself

even without the motive of participating in this happiness. This

judgement, however, is in fact only the effect of the importance of

the moral law which we before presupposed (when by the idea of freedom

we detach ourselves from every empirical interest); but that we

ought to detach ourselves from these interests, i.e., to consider

ourselves as free in action and yet as subject to certain laws, so

as to find a worth simply in our own person which can compensate us

for the loss of everything that gives worth to our condition; this

we are not yet able to discern in this way, nor do we see how it is

possible so to act- in other words, whence the moral law derives its

obligation.

  It must be freely admitted that there is a sort of circle here

from which it seems impossible to escape. In the order of efficient

causes we assume ourselves free, in order that in the order of ends we

may conceive ourselves as subject to moral laws: and we afterwards

conceive ourselves as subject to these laws, because we have

attributed to ourselves freedom of will: for freedom and

self-legislation of will are both autonomy and, therefore, are

reciprocal conceptions, and for this very reason one must not be

used to explain the other or give the reason of it, but at most only

logical purposes to reduce apparently different notions of the same

object to one single concept (as we reduce different fractions of

the same value to the lowest terms).

  One resource remains to us, namely, to inquire whether we do not

occupy different points of view when by means of freedom we think

ourselves as causes efficient a priori, and when we form our

conception of ourselves from our actions as effects which we see

before our eyes.

  It is a remark which needs no subtle reflection to make, but which

we may assume that even the commonest understanding can make, although

it be after its fashion by an obscure discernment of judgement which

it calls feeling, that all the "ideas" that come to us involuntarily

(as those of the senses) do not enable us to know objects otherwise

than as they affect us; so that what they may be in themselves remains

unknown to us, and consequently that as regards "ideas" of this kind

even with the closest attention and clearness that the understanding

can apply to them, we can by them only attain to the knowledge of

appearances, never to that of things in themselves. As soon as this

distinction has once been made (perhaps merely in consequence of the

difference observed between the ideas given us from without, and in

which we are passive, and those that we produce simply from ourselves,

and in which we show our own activity), then it follows of itself that

we must admit and assume behind the appearance something else that

is not an appearance, namely, the things in themselves; although we

must admit that as they can never be known to us except as they affect

us, we can come no nearer to them, nor can we ever know what they

are in themselves. This must furnish a distinction, however crude,

between a world of sense and the world of understanding, of which

the former may be different according to the difference of the

sensuous impressions in various observers, while the second which is

its basis always remains the same, Even as to himself, a man cannot

pretend to know what he is in himself from the knowledge he has by

internal sensation. For as he does not as it were create himself,

and does not come by the conception of himself a priori but

empirically, it naturally follows that he can obtain his knowledge

even of himself only by the inner sense and, consequently, only

through the appearances of his nature and the way in which his

consciousness is affected. At the same time beyond these

characteristics of his own subject, made up of mere appearances, he

must necessarily suppose something else as their basis, namely, his

ego, whatever its characteristics in itself may be. Thus in respect to

mere perception and receptivity of sensations he must reckon himself

as belonging to the world of sense; but in respect of whatever there

may be of pure activity in him (that which reaches consciousness

immediately and not through affecting the senses), he must reckon

himself as belonging to the intellectual world, of which, however,

he has no further knowledge. To such a conclusion the reflecting man

must come with respect to all the things which can be presented to

him: it is probably to be met with even in persons of the commonest

understanding, who, as is well known, are very much inclined to

suppose behind the objects of the senses something else invisible

and acting of itself. They spoil it, however, by presently

sensualizing this invisible again; that is to say, wanting to make

it an object of intuition, so that they do not become a whit the

wiser.

  Now man really finds in himself a faculty by which he

distinguishes himself from everything else, even from himself as

affected by objects, and that is reason. This being pure spontaneity

is even elevated above the understanding. For although the latter is a

spontaneity and does not, like sense, merely contain intuitions that

arise when we are affected by things (and are therefore passive),

yet it cannot produce from its activity any other conceptions than

those which merely serve to bring the intuitions of sense under

rules and, thereby, to unite them in one consciousness, and without

this use of the sensibility it could not think at all; whereas, on the

contrary, reason shows so pure a spontaneity in the case of what I

call ideas [ideal conceptions] that it thereby far transcends

everything that the sensibility can give it, and exhibits its most

important function in distinguishing the world of sense from that of

understanding, and thereby prescribing the limits of the understanding

itself.

  For this reason a rational being must regard himself qua

intelligence (not from the side of his lower faculties) as belonging

not to the world of sense, but to that of understanding; hence he

has two points of view from which he can regard himself, and recognise

laws of the exercise of his faculties, and consequently of all his

actions: first, so far as he belongs to the world of sense, he finds

himself subject to laws of nature (heteronomy); secondly, as belonging

to the intelligible world, under laws which being independent of

nature have their foundation not in experience but in reason alone.

  As a rational being, and consequently belonging to the

intelligible world, man can never conceive the causality of his own

will otherwise than on condition of the idea of freedom, for

independence of the determinate causes of the sensible world (an

independence which reason must always ascribe to itself) is freedom.

Now the idea of freedom is inseparably connected with the conception

of autonomy, and this again with the universal principle of morality

which is ideally the foundation of all actions of rational beings,

just as the law of nature is of all phenomena.

  Now the suspicion is removed which we raised above, that there was a

latent circle involved in our reasoning from freedom to autonomy,

and from this to the moral law, viz.: that we laid down the idea of

freedom because of the moral law only that we might afterwards in turn

infer the latter from freedom, and that consequently we could assign

no reason at all for this law, but could only [present] it as a

petitio principii which well disposed minds would gladly concede to

us, but which we could never put forward as a provable proposition.

For now we see that, when we conceive ourselves as free, we transfer

ourselves into the world of understanding as members of it and

recognise the autonomy of the will with its consequence, morality;

whereas, if we conceive ourselves as under obligation, we consider

ourselves as belonging to the world of sense and at the same time to

the world of understanding.

           How is a Categorical Imperative Possible?

  Every rational being reckons himself qua intelligence as belonging

to the world of understanding, and it is simply as an efficient

cause belonging to that world that he calls his causality a will. On

the other side he is also conscious of himself as a part of the

world of sense in which his actions, which are mere appearances

[phenomena] of that causality, are displayed; we cannot, however,

discern how they are possible from this causality which we do not

know; but instead of that, these actions as belonging to the

sensible world must be viewed as determined by other phenomena,

namely, desires and inclinations. If therefore I were only a member of

the world of understanding, then all my actions would perfectly

conform to the principle of autonomy of the pure will; if I were

only a part of the world of sense, they would necessarily be assumed

to conform wholly to the natural law of desires and inclinations, in

other words, to the heteronomy of nature. (The former would rest on

morality as the supreme principle, the latter on happiness.) Since,

however, the world of understanding contains the foundation of the

world of sense, and consequently of its laws also, and accordingly

gives the law to my will (which belongs wholly to the world of

understanding) directly, and must be conceived as doing so, it follows

that, although on the one side I must regard myself as a being

belonging to the world of sense, yet on the other side I must

recognize myself as subject as an intelligence to the law of the world

of understanding, i.e., to reason, which contains this law in the idea

of freedom, and therefore as subject to the autonomy of the will:

consequently I must regard the laws of the world of understanding as

imperatives for me and the actions which conform to them as duties.

  And thus what makes categorical imperatives possible is this, that

the idea of freedom makes me a member of an intelligible world, in

consequence of which, if I were nothing else, all my actions would

always conform to the autonomy of the will; but as I at the same

time intuite myself as a member of the world of sense, they ought so

to conform, and this categorical "ought" implies a synthetic a

priori proposition, inasmuch as besides my will as affected by

sensible desires there is added further the idea of the same will

but as belonging to the world of the understanding, pure and practical

of itself, which contains the supreme condition according to reason of

the former will; precisely as to the intuitions of sense there are

added concepts of the understanding which of themselves signify

nothing but regular form in general and in this way synthetic a priori

propositions become possible, on which all knowledge of physical

nature rests.

  The practical use of common human reason confirms this reasoning.

There is no one, not even the most consummate villain, provided only

that be is otherwise accustomed to the use of reason, who, when we set

before him examples of honesty of purpose, of steadfastness in

following good maxims, of sympathy and general benevolence (even

combined with great sacrifices of advantages and comfort), does not

wish that he might also possess these qualities. Only on account of

his inclinations and impulses he cannot attain this in himself, but at

the same time he wishes to be free from such inclinations which are

burdensome to himself. He proves by this that he transfers himself

in thought with a will free from the impulses of the sensibility

into an order of things wholly different from that of his desires in

the field of the sensibility; since he cannot expect to obtain by that

wish any gratification of his desires, nor any position which would

satisfy any of his actual or supposable inclinations (for this would

destroy the pre-eminence of the very idea which wrests that wish

from him): he can only expect a greater intrinsic worth of his own

person. This better person, however, he imagines himself to be when be

transfers himself to the point of view of a member of the world of the

understanding, to which he is involuntarily forced by the idea of

freedom, i.e., of independence on determining causes of the world of

sense; and from this point of view he is conscious of a good will,

which by his own confession constitutes the law for the bad will

that he possesses as a member of the world of sense- a law whose

authority he recognizes while transgressing it. What he morally

"ought" is then what he necessarily "would," as a member of the

world of the understanding, and is conceived by him as an "ought" only

inasmuch as he likewise considers himself as a member of the world

of sense.

       Of the Extreme Limits of all Practical Philosophy.

  All men attribute to themselves freedom of will. Hence come all

judgements upon actions as being such as ought to have been done,

although they have not been done. However, this freedom is not a

conception of experience, nor can it be so, since it still remains,

even though experience shows the contrary of what on supposition of

freedom are conceived as its necessary consequences. On the other side

it is equally necessary that everything that takes place should be

fixedly determined according to laws of nature. This necessity of

nature is likewise not an empirical conception, just for this

reason, that it involves the motion of necessity and consequently of a

priori cognition. But this conception of a system of nature is

confirmed by experience; and it must even be inevitably presupposed if

experience itself is to be possible, that is, a connected knowledge of

the objects of sense resting on general laws. Therefore freedom is

only an idea of reason, and its objective reality in itself is

doubtful; while nature is a concept of the understanding which proves,

and must necessarily prove, its reality in examples of experience.

  There arises from this a dialectic of reason, since the freedom

attributed to the will appears to contradict the necessity of

nature, and placed between these two ways reason for speculative

purposes finds the road of physical necessity much more beaten and

more appropriate than that of freedom; yet for practical purposes

the narrow footpath of freedom is the only one on which it is possible

to make use of reason in our conduct; hence it is just as impossible

for the subtlest philosophy as for the commonest reason of men to

argue away freedom. Philosophy must then assume that no real

contradiction will be found between freedom and physical necessity

of the same human actions, for it cannot give up the conception of

nature any more than that of freedom.

  Nevertheless, even though we should never be able to comprehend

how freedom is possible, we must at least remove this apparent

contradiction in a convincing manner. For if the thought of freedom

contradicts either itself or nature, which is equally necessary, it

must in competition with physical necessity be entirely given up.

  It would, however, be impossible to escape this contradiction if the

thinking subject, which seems to itself free, conceived itself in

the same sense or in the very same relation when it calls itself

free as when in respect of the same action it assumes itself to be

subject to the law of nature. Hence it is an indispensable problem

of speculative philosophy to show that its illusion respecting the

contradiction rests on this, that we think of man in a different sense

and relation when we call him free and when we regard him as subject

to the laws of nature as being part and parcel of nature. It must

therefore show that not only can both these very well co-exist, but

that both must be thought as necessarily united in the same subject,

since otherwise no reason could be given why we should burden reason

with an idea which, though it may possibly without contradiction be

reconciled with another that is sufficiently established, yet

entangles us in a perplexity which sorely embarrasses reason in its

theoretic employment. This duty, however, belongs only to

speculative philosophy. The philosopher then has no option whether

he will remove the apparent contradiction or leave it untouched; for

in the latter case the theory respecting this would be bonum vacans,

into the possession of which the fatalist would have a right to

enter and chase all morality out of its supposed domain as occupying

it without title.

  We cannot however as yet say that we are touching the bounds of

practical philosophy. For the settlement of that controversy does

not belong to it; it only demands from speculative reason that it

should put an end to the discord in which it entangles itself in

theoretical questions, so that practical reason may have rest and

security from external attacks which might make the ground debatable

on which it desires to build.

  The claims to freedom of will made even by common reason are founded

on the consciousness and the admitted supposition that reason is

independent of merely subjectively determined causes which together

constitute what belongs to sensation only and which consequently

come under the general designation of sensibility. Man considering

himself in this way as an intelligence places himself thereby in a

different order of things and in a relation to determining grounds

of a wholly different kind when on the one hand he thinks of himself

as an intelligence endowed with a will, and consequently with

causality, and when on the other he perceives himself as a

phenomenon in the world of sense (as he really is also), and affirms

that his causality is subject to external determination according to

laws of nature. Now he soon becomes aware that both can hold good,

nay, must hold good at the same time. For there is not the smallest

contradiction in saying that a thing in appearance (belonging to the

world of sense) is subject to certain laws, of which the very same

as a thing or being in itself is independent, and that he must

conceive and think of himself in this twofold way, rests as to the

first on the consciousness of himself as an object affected through

the senses, and as to the second on the consciousness of himself as an

intelligence, i.e., as independent on sensible impressions in the

employment of his reason (in other words as belonging to the world

of understanding).

  Hence it comes to pass that man claims the possession of a will

which takes no account of anything that comes under the head of

desires and inclinations and, on the contrary, conceives actions as

possible to him, nay, even as necessary which can only be done by

disregarding all desires and sensible inclinations. The causality of

such actions lies in him as an intelligence and in the laws of effects

and actions [which depend] on the principles of an intelligible world,

of which indeed he knows nothing more than that in it pure reason

alone independent of sensibility gives the law; moreover since it is

only in that world, as an intelligence, that he is his proper self

(being as man only the appearance of himself), those laws apply to him

directly and categorically, so that the incitements of inclinations

and appetites (in other words the whole nature of the world of

sense) cannot impair the laws of his volition as an intelligence. Nay,

he does not even hold himself responsible for the former or ascribe

them to his proper self, i.e., his will: he only ascribes to his

will any indulgence which he might yield them if he allowed them to

influence his maxims to the prejudice of the rational laws of the

will.

  When practical reason thinks itself into a world of understanding,

it does not thereby transcend its own limits, as it would if it

tried to enter it by intuition or sensation. The former is only a

negative thought in respect of the world of sense, which does not give

any laws to reason in determining the will and is positive only in

this single point that this freedom as a negative characteristic is at

the same time conjoined with a (positive) faculty and even with a

causality of reason, which we designate a will, namely a faculty of so

acting that the principle of the actions shall conform to the

essential character of a rational motive, i.e., the condition that the

maxim have universal validity as a law. But were it to borrow an

object of will, that is, a motive, from the world of understanding,

then it would overstep its bounds and pretend to be acquainted with

something of which it knows nothing. The conception of a world of

the understanding is then only a point of view which reason finds

itself compelled to take outside the appearances in order to

conceive itself as practical, which would not be possible if the

influences of the sensibility had a determining power on man, but

which is necessary unless he is to be denied the consciousness of

himself as an intelligence and, consequently, as a rational cause,

energizing by reason, that is, operating freely. This thought

certainly involves the idea of an order and a system of laws different

from that of the mechanism of nature which belongs to the sensible

world; and it makes the conception of an intelligible world

necessary (that is to say, the whole system of rational beings as

things in themselves). But it does not in the least authorize us to

think of it further than as to its formal condition only, that is, the

universality of the maxims of the will as laws, and consequently the

autonomy of the latter, which alone is consistent with its freedom;

whereas, on the contrary, all laws that refer to a definite object

give heteronomy, which only belongs to laws of nature and can only

apply to the sensible world.

  But reason would overstep all its bounds if it undertook to

explain how pure reason can be practical, which would be exactly the

same problem as to explain how freedom is possible.

  For we can explain nothing but that which we can reduce to laws, the

object of which can be given in some possible experience. But

freedom is a mere idea, the objective reality of which can in no

wise be shown according to laws of nature, and consequently not in any

possible experience; and for this reason it can never be

comprehended or understood, because we cannot support it by any sort

of example or analogy. It holds good only as a necessary hypothesis of

reason in a being that believes itself conscious of a will, that is,

of a faculty distinct from mere desire (namely, a faculty of

determining itself to action as an intelligence, in other words, by

laws of reason independently on natural instincts). Now where

determination according to laws of nature ceases, there all

explanation ceases also, and nothing remains but defence, i.e., the

removal of the objections of those who pretend to have seen deeper

into the nature of things, and thereupon boldly declare freedom

impossible. We can only point out to them that the supposed

contradiction that they have discovered in it arises only from this,

that in order to be able to apply the law of nature to human

actions, they must necessarily consider man as an appearance: then

when we demand of them that they should also think of him qua

intelligence as a thing in itself, they still persist in considering

him in this respect also as an appearance. In this view it would no

doubt be a contradiction to suppose the causality of the same

subject (that is, his will) to be withdrawn from all the natural

laws of the sensible world. But this contradiction disappears, if they

would only bethink themselves and admit, as is reasonable, that behind

the appearances there must also lie at their root (although hidden)

the things in themselves, and that we cannot expect the laws of

these to be the same as those that govern their appearances.

  The subjective impossibility of explaining the freedom of the will

is identical with the impossibility of discovering and explaining an

interest* which man can take in the moral law. Nevertheless he does

actually take an interest in it, the basis of which in us we call

the moral feeling, which some have falsely assigned as the standard of

our moral judgement, whereas it must rather be viewed as the

subjective effect that the law exercises on the will, the objective

principle of which is furnished by reason alone.

  *Interest is that by which reason becomes practical, i.e., a cause

determining the will. Hence we say of rational beings only that they

take an interest in a thing; irrational beings only feel sensual

appetites. Reason takes a direct interest in action then only when the

universal validity of its maxims is alone sufficient to determine

the will. Such an interest alone is pure. But if it can determine

the will only by means of another object of desire or on the

suggestion of a particular feeling of the subject, then reason takes

only an indirect interest in the action, and, as reason by itself

without experience cannot discover either objects of the will or a

special feeling actuating it, this latter interest would only be

empirical and not a pure rational interest. The logical interest of

reason (namely, to extend its insight) is never direct, but

presupposes purposes for which reason is employed.

  In order indeed that a rational being who is also affected through

the senses should will what reason alone directs such beings that they

ought to will, it is no doubt requisite that reason should have a

power to infuse a feeling of pleasure or satisfaction in the

fulfilment of duty, that is to say, that it should have a causality by

which it determines the sensibility according to its own principles.

But it is quite impossible to discern, i.e., to make it intelligible a

priori, how a mere thought, which itself contains nothing sensible,

can itself produce a sensation of pleasure or pain; for this is a

particular kind of causality of which as of every other causality we

can determine nothing whatever a priori; we must only consult

experience about it. But as this cannot supply us with any relation of

cause and effect except between two objects of experience, whereas

in this case, although indeed the effect produced lies within

experience, yet the cause is supposed to be pure reason acting through

mere ideas which offer no object to experience, it follows that for us

men it is quite impossible to explain how and why the universality

of the maxim as a law, that is, morality, interests. This only is

certain, that it is not because it interests us that it has validity

for us (for that would be heteronomy and dependence of practical

reason on sensibility, namely, on a feeling as its principle, in which

case it could never give moral laws), but that it interests us because

it is valid for us as men, inasmuch as it had its source in our will

as intelligences, in other words, in our proper self, and what belongs

to mere appearance is necessarily subordinated by reason to the nature

of the thing in itself.

  The question then, "How a categorical imperative is possible," can

be answered to this extent, that we can assign the only hypothesis

on which it is possible, namely, the idea of freedom; and we can

also discern the necessity of this hypothesis, and this is

sufficient for the practical exercise of reason, that is, for the

conviction of the validity of this imperative, and hence of the

moral law; but how this hypothesis itself is possible can never be

discerned by any human reason. On the hypothesis, however, that the

will of an intelligence is free, its autonomy, as the essential formal

condition of its determination, is a necessary consequence.

Moreover, this freedom of will is not merely quite possible as a

hypothesis (not involving any contradiction to the principle of

physical necessity in the connexion of the phenomena of the sensible

world) as speculative philosophy can show: but further, a rational

being who is conscious of causality through reason, that is to say, of

a will (distinct from desires), must of necessity make it practically,

that is, in idea, the condition of all his voluntary actions. But to

explain how pure reason can be of itself practical without the aid

of any spring of action that could be derived from any other source,

i.e., how the mere principle of the universal validity of all its

maxims as laws (which would certainly be the form of a pure

practical reason) can of itself supply a spring, without any matter

(object) of the will in which one could antecedently take any

interest; and how it can produce an interest which would be called

purely moral; or in other words, how pure reason can be practical-

to explain this is beyond the power of human reason, and all the

labour and pains of seeking an explanation of it are lost an

  It is just the same as if I sought to find out how freedom itself is

possible as the causality of a will. For then I quit the ground of

philosophical explanation, and I have no other to go upon. I might

indeed revel in the world of intelligences which still remains to

me, but although I have an idea of it which is well founded, yet I

have not the least knowledge of it, nor an I ever attain to such

knowledge with all the efforts of my natural faculty of reason. It

signifies only a something that remains over when I have eliminated

everything belonging to the world of sense from the actuating

principles of my will, serving merely to keep in bounds the

principle of motives taken from the field of sensibility; fixing its

limits and showing that it does not contain all in all within

itself, but that there is more beyond it; but this something more I

know no further. Of pure reason which frames this ideal, there remains

after the abstraction of all matter, i.e., knowledge of objects,

nothing but the form, namely, the practical law of the universality of

the maxims, and in conformity with this conception of reason in

reference to a pure world of understanding as a possible efficient

cause, that is a cause determining the will. There must here be a

total absence of springs; unless this idea of an intelligible world is

itself the spring, or that in which reason primarily takes an

interest; but to make this intelligible is precisely the problem

that we cannot solve.

  Here now is the extreme limit of all moral inquiry, and it is of

great importance to determine it even on this account, in order that

reason may not on the one band, to the prejudice of morals, seek about

in the world of sense for the supreme motive and an interest

comprehensible but empirical; and on the other hand, that it may not

impotently flap its wings without being able to move in the (for it)

empty space of transcendent concepts which we call the intelligible

world, and so lose itself amidst chimeras. For the rest, the idea of a

pure world of understanding as a system of all intelligences, and to

which we ourselves as rational beings belong (although we are likewise

on the other side members of the sensible world), this remains

always a useful and legitimate idea for the purposes of rational

belief, although all knowledge stops at its threshold, useful, namely,

to produce in us a lively interest in the moral law by means of the

noble ideal of a universal kingdom of ends in themselves (rational

beings), to which we can belong as members then only when we carefully

conduct ourselves according to the maxims of freedom as if they were

laws of nature.

                     Concluding Remark

  The speculative employment of reason with respect to nature leads to

the absolute necessity of some supreme cause of the world: the

practical employment of reason with a view to freedom leads also to

absolute necessity, but only of the laws of the actions of a

rational being as such. Now it is an essential principle of reason,

however employed, to push its knowledge to a consciousness of its

necessity (without which it would not be rational knowledge). It is,

however, an equally essential restriction of the same reason that it

can neither discern the necessity of what is or what happens, nor of

what ought to happen, unless a condition is supposed on which it is or

happens or ought to happen. In this way, however, by the constant

inquiry for the condition, the satisfaction of reason is only

further and further postponed. Hence it unceasingly seeks the

unconditionally necessary and finds itself forced to assume it,

although without any means of making it comprehensible to itself,

happy enough if only it can discover a conception which agrees with

this assumption. It is therefore no fault in our deduction of the

supreme principle of morality, but an objection that should be made to

human reason in general, that it cannot enable us to conceive the

absolute necessity of an unconditional practical law (such as the

categorical imperative must be). It cannot be blamed for refusing to

explain this necessity by a condition, that is to say, by means of

some interest assumed as a basis, since the law would then cease to be

a supreme law of reason. And thus while we do not comprehend the

practical unconditional necessity of the moral imperative, we yet

comprehend its incomprehensibility, and this is all that can be fairly

demanded of a philosophy which strives to carry its principles up to

the very limit of human reason.

                             -THE END-

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