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
attain 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 he 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.