CHAPTER VI.

ON THE DERIVED FORMS OF THE LEADING PRINCIPLE OF THE KANTIAN ETHICS.

It is well known that Kant put the leading principle of his Ethics

into another quite different shape, in which it is expressed directly;

the first being indirect, indeed nothing more than an indication as

to how the principle is to be sought for. Beginning at p. 63 (R.,

p. 55), he prepares the way for his second formula by means of very

strange, ambiguous, not to say distorted,[1] definitions of the

conceptions =End= and =Means=, which may be much more simply

and correctly denoted thus: an =End= is the direct motive of an

act of the Will, a =Means= the indirect: _simplex sigillum veri_

(simplicity is the seal of truth). Kant, however, slips through his

wonderful enunciations to the statement: "=Man=, indeed every

rational being, exists =as an end in himself=." On this I must

remark that "to exist as an end in oneself==" is an unthinkable

expression, a _contradictio in adjecto_.[2] To be an end means to

be an object of volition. Every end can only exist in relation to a

will, whose end, _i.e._, (as above stated), whose direct motive it is.

Only thus can the idea, "end" have any sense, which is lost as soon as

such connection is broken. But this relation, which is essential to

the thing, necessarily excludes every "in itself." "End in oneself"

is exactly like saying: "Friend in oneself;--enemy in oneself;--uncle

in oneself;--north or east in itself;--above or below in itself;"

and so on. At bottom the "end in itself" is in the same case as the

"absolute ought"; the same thought--the theological--secretly, indeed,

unconsciously lies at the root of each as its condition. Nor is the

"absolute worth," which is supposed to be attached to this alleged,

though unthinkable, "end in itself," at all better circumstanced.

It also must be characterised, without pity, as a _contradictio in

adjecto_. Every "worth" is a valuation by comparison, and its bearing

is necessarily twofold. First, it is =relative=, since it exists

for some one; and secondly, it is =comparative=, as being compared

with something else, and estimated accordingly. Severed from these two

conditions, the conception, "worth," loses all sense and meaning, and

so obviously, that further demonstration is needless. But more: just

as the phrases "end in itself" and "absolute worth" outrage logic, so

true morality is outraged by the statement on p. 65 (R., p. 56), that

irrational beings (that is, animals) are =things=, and should

therefore be treated simply as =means=, which are not at the same

time ends. In harmony with this, it is expressly declared in the

_Metaphysische Anfanggründe der Tugendlehre,_ § 16: "A man can have no

duties towards any being, except towards his fellow-men;" and then, §

17, we read: "To treat animals cruelly runs counter to the duty of man

=towards himself=; because it deadens the feeling of sympathy for

them in their sufferings, and thus weakens a natural tendency which

is very serviceable to morality in relation to =other men=." So

one is only to have compassion on animals for the sake of practice,

and they are as it were the pathological phantom on which to train

one's sympathy with men! In common with the whole of Asia that is not

tainted by Islâm (which is tantamount to Judaism), I regard such tenets

as odious and revolting. Here, once again, we see withal how entirely

this philosophical morality, which is, as explained above, only a

theological one in disguise, depends in reality on the biblical Ethics.

Thus, because Christian morals leave animals out of consideration

(of which more later on); therefore in philosophical morals they

are of course at once outlawed; they are merely "things," simply

=means= to ends of any sort; and so they are good for vivisection,

for deer-stalking, bull-fights, horse-races, etc., and they may be

whipped to death as they struggle along with heavy quarry carts.

Shame on such a morality which is worthy of Pariahs, Chandalas and

Mlechchas[3]; which fails to recognise the Eternal Reality immanent

in everything that has life, and shining forth with inscrutable

significance from all eyes that see the sun! This is a morality which

knows and values only the precious species that gave it birth; whose

characteristic--=reason=--it makes the condition under which a

being may be an object of moral regard.

By this rough path, then,--indeed, _per fas et nefas_ (by fair means

and by foul), Kant reaches the second form in which he expresses the

fundamental principle of his Ethics: "Act in such a way that you at

all times treat mankind, as much in your own person, as in the person

of every one else, not only as a Means, but also as an End." Such a

statement is a very artificial and roundabout way of saying: "Do not

consider yourself alone, but others also;" this in turn is a paraphrase

for: _Quod tibi fieri non vis, alteri ne feceris_ (do not to another

what you are unwilling should be done to yourself); and the latter,

as I have said, contains nothing but the premises to the conclusion,

which is the true and final goal of all morals and of all moralising;

_Neminem laede, immo omnes, quantum potes juva_ (do harm to no one;

but rather help all people as far as lies in your power). Like all

beautiful things, this proposition looks best unveiled. Be it only

observed that the alleged duties towards oneself are dragged into this

second Kantian edict intentionally and not without difficulty. Some

place of course had to be found for them.[4]

Another objection that could be raised against the formula is that the

malefactor condemned to be executed is treated merely as an instrument,

and not as an end, and this with perfectly good reason; for he is

the indispensable means of upholding the terror of the law by its

fulfilment, and of thus accomplishing the law's end--the repression of

crime.

But if this second definition helps nothing towards laying a foundation

for Ethics, if it cannot even pass muster as its leading principle,

that is, as an adequate and direct summary of ethical precepts; it

has nevertheless the merit of containing a fine _aperçu_ of moral

psychology, for it marks =egoism= by an exceedingly characteristic

token, which is quite worth while being here more closely considered.

This =egoism=, then, of which each of us is full, and to conceal

which, as our _partie honteuse_, we have invented =politeness=,

is perpetually peering through every veil cast over it, and may

especially be detected in the fact that our dealings with all those,

who come across our path, are directed by the one object of trying

to find, before everything else, and as if by instinct, a possible

=means= to any of the numerous =ends= with which we are

always engrossed. When we make a new acquaintance, our first thought,

as a rule, is whether the man can be useful to us in some way. If he

can do =nothing= for our benefit, then as soon as we are convinced

of this, he himself generally becomes nothing to us. To seek in all

other people a possible means to our ends, in other words, to make

them our instruments, is almost part of the very nature of human

eyes; and whether the instrument will have to suffer more or less

in the using, is a thought which comes much later, sometimes not at

all. That we assume others to be similarly disposed is shown in many

ways; _e.g._, by the fact that, when we ask any one for information

or advice, we lose all confidence in his words directly we discover

that he may have some =interest= in the matter, however small or

remote. For then we immediately take for granted that he will make us

a means to his ends, and hence give his advice not in accordance with

his =discernment=, but with his =desire=, and this, no matter

how exact the former may be, or how little the latter seem involved;

since we know only too well that a cubic inch of desire weighs much

more than a cubic yard of discernment. Conversely, when we ask in such

cases: "What ought I to do?" as a rule, nothing else will occur to our

counsellor, but how we should shape our action to suit his own ends;

and to this effect he will give his reply immediately, and as it were

mechanically, without so much as bestowing a thought on our ends;

because it is his Will that directly dictates the answer, or ever the

question can come before the bar of his real judgment. Hence he tries

to mould our conduct to his own benefit, without even being conscious

of it, and while he supposes that he is speaking out of the abundance

of his discernment, in reality he is nothing but the mouth-piece of

his own desire; indeed, such self-deception may lead him so far as to

utter lies, without being aware of it. So greatly does the influence of

the Will preponderate that of the Intelligence. Consequently, it is not

the testimony of our own consciousness, but rather, for the most part,

that of our interest, which avails to determine whether our language be

in accordance with what we discern, or what we desire. To take another

case. Let us suppose that a man pursued by enemies and in danger of

life, meets a pedlar and inquires for some by-way of escape; it may

happen that the latter will answer him by the question: "Do you need

any of my wares?" It is not of course meant that matters are always

like this. On the contrary, many a man is found to show a direct and

real participation in another's weal and woe, or (in Kant's language)

to regard him as an end and not as a means. How far it seems natural,

or the reverse, to each one to treat his neighbour for once in the way

as an end, instead of (as usual) a means,--this is the criterion of the

great ethical difference existing between character and character; and

that on which the mental attitude of sympathy rests in the last resort

will be the true basis of Ethics, and will form the subject of the

third part of this Essay.

Thus, in his second formula, Kant distinguishes Egoism and its opposite

by a very characteristic trait; and this point of merit I have all the

more gladly brought out into strong light and illustrated, because in

other respects there is little in the groundwork of his Ethics that I

can admit.

The third and last form in which Kant put forward his Moral Principle

is the =Autonomy= of the Will: "The Will of every rational

being is universally legislative for all rational beings." This of

course follows from the first form. As a consequence of the third,

however, we are asked to believe (see p. 71; R., p. 60) that the

specific characteristic of the Categorical Imperative lies in the

=renunciation of all interest= by the Will when acting from a

sense of duty. All previous moral principles had thus (he says) broken

down, "because the latter invariably attributed to human actions at

bottom a certain interest, whether originating in compulsion, or

in pleasurable attraction--an interest which might be one's own,

or another's" (p. 73; R., p. 62). (=Another's=: let this be

particularly noticed.) "Whereas a universally legislative Will must

prescribe actions which are =not= based on any =interest= at

all, but solely on a feeling of duty." I beg the reader to think what

this really means. As a matter of fact, nothing less than volition

without motive, in other words, effect without cause. Interest and

Motive are interchangeable ideas; what is interest but _quod mea

interest_, that which is of importance to me? And is not this, in one

word, whatever stirs and sets in motion my Will? Consequently, what is

an interest other than the working of a motive upon the Will? Therefore

where a motive moves the Will, there the latter has an interest; but

where the Will is affected by no motive, there in truth it can be as

little active, as a stone is able to leave its place without being

pushed or pulled. No educated person will require any demonstration of

this. It follows that every action, inasmuch as it necessarily must

have a motive, necessarily also presupposes an interest. Kant, however,

propounds a second entirely new class of actions which are performed

without any interest, _i.e._, without motive. And these actions

are--all deeds of justice and loving-kindness! It will be seen that

this monstrous assumption, to be refuted, needed only to be reduced to

its real meaning, which was concealed through the word "interest" being

trifled with. Meanwhile Kant celebrates (p. 74 sqq.; R., p. 62) the

triumph of his Autonomy of the Will by setting up a moral Utopia called

the Kingdom of Ends, which is peopled with nothing but =rational

beings= _in abstracto_. These, one and all, are always willing,

without willing any actual =thing= (_i.e._, without interest):

the only thing that they will is that they may all perpetually will in

accordance with one maxim (_i.e._, Autonomy). _Difficile est satiram

non scribere_[5] (it is difficult to refrain from writing a satire).

But there is something else to which Kant is led by his autonomy of

the will; and it involves more serious consequences than the little

innocent Kingdom of Ends, which is perfectly harmless and may be left

in peace. I mean the conception of =human dignity=. Now this

"dignity" is made to rest solely on man's autonomy, and to lie in the

fact that the law which he ought to obey is his own work, his relation

to it thus being the same as that of the subjects of a constitutional

government to their statutes. As an ornamental finish to the Kantian

system of morals such a theory might after all be passed over. Only

this expression "=Human Dignity=," once it was uttered by Kant,

became the shibboleth of all perplexed and empty-headed moralists. For

behind that imposing formula they concealed their lack, not to say,

of a real ethical basis, but of any basis at all which was possessed

of an intelligible meaning; supposing cleverly enough that their

readers would be so pleased to see themselves invested with such a

"dignity" that they would be quite satisfied.[6] Let us, however,

look at this conception a little more carefully, and submit it to

the test of reality. Kant (p. 79; R., p. 66) defines =dignity=

as "an unconditioned, incomparable value." This is an explanation

which makes such an effect by its magnificent sound that one does

not readily summon up courage to examine it at close quarters; else

we should find that it too is nothing but a hollow hyperbole, within

which there lurks like a gnawing worm, the _contradictio in adjecto_.

Every value is the estimation of one thing compared with another; it

is thus a conception of comparison, and consequently relative; and

this relativity is precisely that which forms the essence of the idea.

According to Diogenes Laertius (Book VII., chap. 106),[7] this was

already correctly taught by the Stoics. He says: _τὴn δὲ ἀξίαν εἶναι

ἀμοιβὴν δοκιμάστου, ἢν ἂν ὁ ἔμπειρος τῶν Πραγμάτων τάξῃ ὅμοιον εἐπεῑν,

ἀμείβεσθαι πυροὺς πρὸς τὰς σὺν ἡμιονô κριθάς._[8] An =incomparable,

unconditioned, absolute value=, such as "dignity" is declared by

Kant to be, is thus, like so much else in Philosophy, the statement in

words of a thought which is really unthinkable; just as much as "the

highest number," or "the greatest space."

"_Doch eben wo Begriffe fehlen_,

_Da stellt ein WORT zu rechter Zeit sich ein._"

(But where conceptions fail,

Just there a WORD comes in to fill the blank.)

So it was with this expression, "=Human Dignity=." A most

acceptable phrase was brought into currency. Thereon every system of

Morals, that was spun out through all classes of duty, and all forms of

casuistry, found a broad basis; from which serene elevation it could

comfortably go on preaching.

At the end of his exposition (p. 124; E., p. 97), Kant says: "But how

it is that =Pure Reason= without other motives, that may have

their derivation elsewhere, can by itself be =practical=; that is,

how, without there being any object for the Will to take an antecedent

interest in, the simple principle of the universal validity of all the

precepts of Pure Reason, as laws, can of itself provide a motive and

bring about an interest which may be called purely moral; or, in other

words, how it is that Pure Reason can be practical;--to explain this

problem, all human reason is inadequate, and all trouble and work spent

on it are vain." Now it should be remembered that, if any one asserts

the existence of a thing which cannot even be conceived as possible, it

is incumbent on him to prove that it is an actual reality; whereas the

Categorical Imperative of Practical Reason is expressly not put forward

as a fact of consciousness, nor otherwise founded on experience. Rather

are we frequently cautioned not to attempt to explain it by having

recourse to empirical anthropology. (Cf. _e.g._, p. vi. of the preface;

R., p. 5; and pp. 59, 60; R., p. 52). Moreover, we are repeatedly

(_e.g._, p. 48; R., p. 44) assured "that no instance can show, and

consequently there can be no empirical proof, that an Imperative of

this sort exists everywhere." And further, on p. 49 (R., p. 45), we

read, "that the reality of the Categorical Imperative is not a fact of

experience." Now if we put all this together, we can hardly avoid the

suspicion that Kant is jesting at his readers' expense. But although

this practice may be allowed by the present philosophical public of

Germany, and seem good in their eyes, yet in Kant's time it was not so

much in vogue; and besides, Ethics, then, as always, was precisely the

subject that least of all could lend itself to jokes. Hence we must

continue to hold the conviction that what can neither be conceived as

possible, nor proved as actual, is destitute of all credentials to

attest its existence. And if, by a strong effort of the imagination,

we try to picture to ourselves a man, possessed, as it were, by a

_daemon_, in the form of an =absolute Ought=, that speaks only in

Categorical Imperatives, and, confronting his wishes and inclinations,

claims to be the perpetual controller of his actions; in this figure

we see no true portrait of human nature, or of our inner life; what we

=do= discern is an artificial substitute for theological Morals,

to which it stands in the same relation as a wooden leg to a living one.

Our conclusion, therefore, is, that the Kantian Ethics, like all

anterior systems, is devoid of any sure foundation. As I showed at

the outset, in my examination of its =imperative Form=, the

structure is at bottom nothing but an inversion of theological Morals,

cloaked in very abstract formulae of an apparently _a priori_ origin.

That this disguise was most artificial and unrecognisable is the more

certain, from the fact that Kant, in all good faith, was actually

himself deceived by it, and really believed that he could establish,

independently of all theology, and on the basis of pure intelligence _a

priori_, those conceptions of the Law and of the hests of Duty, which

obviously have no meaning except in =theological Ethics=; whereas

I have sufficiently proved that with him they are destitute of all real

foundation, and float loosely in mid air. However, the mask at length

falls away in his own workshop, and theological Ethics stands forth

unveiled, as witness his doctrine of the Highest Good, the Postulates

of Practical Reason; and lastly, his Moral Theology. But this

revelation freed neither Kant nor the public from their illusion as to

the real state of things; on the contrary, both he and they rejoiced to

see all those precepts, which hitherto had been sanctioned by Faith,

now ratified and established by Ethics (although only _idealiter_, and

for practical purposes). The truth is that they, in all sincerity, put

the effect for the cause, and the cause for the effect, inasmuch as

they failed to perceive that at the root of this system of Morals there

lay, as absolutely necessary assumptions, however tacit and concealed,

all the alleged consequences that had been drawn from it.

At the end of this severe investigation, which must also have been

tiring to my readers, perhaps I may be allowed, by way of diversion, to

make a jesting, indeed frivolous comparison. I would liken Kant, in his

self-mystification, to a man who at a ball has been flirting the whole

evening with a masked beauty, in hopes of making a conquest; till at

last, throwing off her disguise, she reveals herself--as his wife.

[1] To keep the play of words in "_geschrobene," "verschrobene,"_ we

may perhaps render them: "twisted ... mistwisted."--(_Translator._)

[2] A contradiction in that which is added. A term applied to two ideas

which cannot be brought into a thinkable relationship.--(_Translator._)

[3] A Chaṇḍāla (or Ćaṇḍāla) means one who is born of a Brahman woman

by a Śūdra husband, such a union being an abomination. Hence it is a

term applied to a low common person. Mlechcha (or Mleććha) means a

foreigner; one who does not speak Sanskṛit, and is not subject to Hindu

institutions. The transition from a "a barbarian" to a bad or wicked

man, is easy.--(_Translator_.)

[4] These so-called duties have been discussed in Chapter III. of this

Part.

[5] Juvenal, _Sat_. I. 30.

[6] It appears that G. W. Block in his _Neue Grundlegung der

Philosophie der Sitten_, 1802, was the first to make "Human Dignity"

expressly and exclusively the foundation-stone of Ethics, which he then

built up entirely on it.

[7] _V_. Diogenes Laertius, _de Clarorum Philosophorum Vitis, etc._,

edit. O. Gabr. Cobet. Paris; Didot, 1862. In this edition the passage

quoted is in chap. 105 _ad fin.,_, p. 182.--(_Translator_.)

[8] They teach that "worth" is the equivalent value of a thing

which has been tested, whatever an expert may fix that value to

be; as, for instance, to take wheat in exchange for barley and a

mule.--(_Translator._)

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