In this paper, I discuss Kant’s main argument for free will from morality. The aim of this paper is to reconstruct his argument as found mainly in the Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals and the Critique of Practical Reason. Concisely put, he argues that we can and even must admit free will in order for morality, which we intuitively accept, to be meaningful at all. As preliminaries to the main argument, I begin with a brief introduction to Kant’s metaphysics and epistemology, as well as his conception of free will. Following this, I explore his main argument for free will, which relies on the thesis that morality reciprocally implies free will. I break this argument into two steps. First, I discuss how Kant shows that morality implies rationality. Second, I discuss how Kant shows that rationality, in turn, implies free will. Before concluding, I review Kant’s position on the apparent incompatibility between free will and determinism.

I start with a brief introduction to Kant’s metaphysics and epistemology to establish the kind of knowledge about free will Kant thinks we can maintain. He details this-what we can know and how we can know it-in the Critique of Pure Reason. His metaphysics details what we can know by distinguishing between two worlds, the phenomenal world and the noumenal world. While the phenomenal world is the empirical world in which we experience objects as they appear to us, the noumenal world is the rational world in which we conceive of things-in-themselves. In other words, the phenomenal world is concerned with appearances, while the noumenal world is concerned with things as they actually are. Although Kant does not explicitly state how we are to conceive of these worlds, we can conceive of them as either two ontologically distinct worlds (two world interpretation) or two aspects of the same world (two aspect interpretation). As far as this discussion is concerned, I do not adopt one interpretation or another, as each has its merits. Notwithstanding this, an important consequence of Kant’s metaphysics is that whatever knowledge we can claim about the noumenal world is different not only in degree but in kind to whatever knowledge we can claim about the phenomenal world.

In turn, Kant’s epistemology explains how we can know what we know. For the present purpose, the most relevant way we can acquire knowledge is through reason, which can be either pure or practical. While pure reason is primarily concerned with theoretical or speculative claims, practical reason is primarily concerned with moral claims. However, pure reason and practical reason are not, strictly speaking, different kinds of reason, as they “are differentiated solely in their application” (391). Broadly construed, Kant grounds metaphysics on epistemology: that is, he limits what we can consider real to what we can know about what is real. It follows that although we can claim knowledge of the phenomenal world, any claim to knowledge of the noumenal world oversteps the bounds of pure reason. So as a matter of pure reason, we can neither prove nor disprove claims about the noumenal world. Perhaps in a most restrictive manner, pure reason alone forbids us from resolving the three most pressing issues of free will, the existence of God, and the immortality of the soul. So if we are to claim any knowledge of free will at all, it must be as a matter of practical reason. Indeed, Kant suggests that we posit free will as a postulate of pure practical reason, which is simply practical reason that is concerned with the noumenal world. Specifically, we postulate the idea of freedom as a transcendental idea, a “concept of pure reason” that is representative of, but not ultimately grounded in the phenomenal world. As a transcendental idea, the postulate of free will makes a claim about the noumenal world, but is not itself noumenally known or even knowable as a matter of pure reason.

Having briefly introduced Kant’s metaphysics and epistemology, I now outline his conception of freedom and its relation to the will. In the most general sense, freedom is a property of the will. The will is a causality that is characteristic of, and therefore presupposed, of any rational being. In particular, the will is the capacity to act in accordance with reason alone, independently of external causes from the phenomenal world. Further, the will acts by acting on the basis of maxims, which have the form “Perform action A in circumstance C for the end E.” In contrast then, a non-rational being, which does not have such a will, is only determined by external causes. On this reading of Kant, a rational being is a rational being insofar as it has a will, which is precisely the capacity to act in accordance with reason alone. Since freedom is a property of the will and a rational being is the only kind of being that has a will, it follows that a rational being is the only kind of being that can have freedom. Of course, Kant allows for the will to be unfree. But the will’s lack of freedom is meaningful insofar as it has the capacity to be free and yet is not actually free.

There are, in particular, several distinct but related types of freedom. Transcendental freedom, for one, corresponds well to our intuitive conception of freedom as the will’s capacity to be a “first” cause. As a “first” or “absolutely spontaneous” cause, the will is transcendentally free insofar as it is free to be a first cause in the noumenal world, the effect of which takes place in the phenomenal world. Crucially, such a cause must be itself uncaused and undetermined by any external cause in the phenomenal world. It is as such transcendentally ideal, not transcendentally real, since it is in principle unverifiable in the phenomenal world. Transcendental freedom means that I act in a certain way because I myself want to. To use a more concrete example, it means that I do my logic homework because I want to, rather than because I act merely in response to an external cause. This relates transcendental freedom with practical freedom in both the negative sense and the positive sense. While negative freedom is the will’s freedom from any external cause such as desire and inclination, positive freedom is the will’s freedom to both determine and obey its own laws. Indeed, positive freedom implies negative freedom, since the will is free to determine and obey its own laws only if it is free from any external cause. In fact, so important is practical freedom that Kant identifies the autonomous will as the will that is determined by reason alone in this way. In contrast then, the heteronomous will is the will that is not determined by reason as such. To sum, the free and autonomous will is transcendentally free in that it is itself an effective cause, and practically free in that it determines and obeys its own laws. I return to this conception of freedom later in the discussion to explore them in more detail.

Now that we have at least a general understanding of Kant’s metaphysics and epistemology, as well as his conception of free will, we are ready to tackle Kant’s main argument for free will from morality. To do so, I adopt what Henry Allison calls the Reciprocity Thesis, the thesis that morality reciprocally implies free will. In particular, I adopt the proposition that (1) morality reciprocally implies rationality, and also that (2) rationality reciprocally implies free will. It is this second proposition that I will examine in greater detail. Given these propositions, my reconstruction of Kant’s main argument is as follows:

• (Ax. 1) We accept morality on intuitive grounds.
• (P1) Morality implies rationality.
• (P2) Rationality implies free will.
• (C) From (Ax. 1), (P1), and (P2), we conclude free will.

As this reconstruction of the main argument suggests, the main motivation is to ground morality on a solid foundation. But morality depends on rationality, which in turn depends on free will. So in order to maintain morality, we must maintain free will.

The main argument begins with the axiom of morality, an assumption Kant takes us to intuitively accept as a “fact of… reason” (136). This acceptance of the axiom of morality (Ax. 1) affirms the antecedent of (P1). According to our intuitive conception of morality, morality has several characteristics. First, morality involves a law-a moral law-that commands me to act in a certain way. Second, this moral law is universal in that we conceive of it as binding on everyone without exception. Since the moral law binds everyone, I cannot, or at least ought not to, excuse myself or a friend for any crime. Evidently then, morality as a moral law, and indeed, the moral law, is an imperative in that it demands something of every person, and in particular, each person’s will. But what kind of imperative is the moral law? Based on our reflections on morality, Kant argues that the moral law is a categorical imperative, rather than a hypothetical imperative (106-107). Crucially, our reflections suggest that morality binds the will independently of the will’s desire or inclination. I cannot exempt myself from moral requirements simply because I feel like they do not apply to me. So the moral law cannot be a hypothetical imperative of the form “Do X if Y” (where X is an action and Y is an end that X can help bring about), since such an imperative is dependent upon subjective desire or inclination. Instead, the moral law must be a categorical imperative of the form “Do X” (where X is an action) in that it is absolutely and unconditionally binding on every will, regardless of subjective desire or inclination. But the moral law can only bind the will in such a way because it consists in reason, and the will is precisely the capacity to act in accordance with reason. It is clear then that morality, which consists in the universal moral law expressed as a categorical imperative, and in fact the categorical imperative, depends on reason alone (Preface). This first step of the argument establishes (P1), that morality implies rationality.

Now that Kant has shown that morality implies rationality, he moves onto the second major step of the argument to show that rationality, in turn, implies freedom. In terms of the argument as I have stated it, Kant now turns to (P2), the antecedent of which is affirmed by the consequent of (P1). Rationality, according to Kant, is normative in that it prescribes rules of both reason and morality. That is, thinking reasonably and living morally are the same kind of thing in that they are both prescriptions of rationality. At first, the idea that rationality prescribes morality may be a strange thought. Indeed, some philosophers, such as Hume, argue that morality is based on desire or inclination alone and thus has nothing to do with rationality. Yet let us first consider the relatively uncontroversial claim that rationality prescribes rules of logic as the rules of correct reasoning. Given “P” and “P implies Q,” the logical rule modus ponens persuades me to accept “Q.” Although I may for one reason or another reject the inference of “Q” from the given premises, I would do so in a way that is clearly contrary to rationality. Kant suggests that this violation of rationality means that the will is determined by external causes, whereas reason determines the will internally. Kant’s claim then is that just as rationality prescribes rules of reasoning, it prescribes rules of morality too. So the will that rejects the universal moral law is, in this sense, just as irrational as the will that rejects a valid inference from given premises. For the argument to work, Kant invokes the principle of “ought” implies “can.” He takes it that since the will ought to be rational, the will can be rational. This principle precludes the possibility of having any standard of rationality or morality so high that it is unattainable. In any case, the normative prescriptions of rationality, on both thought and morality, bind the will, which is by definition the capacity to act according to reason and assumed of every rational being.

As I noted earlier, the categorical imperative as an imperative of rationality gives us a command to act in a certain way. More precisely, we can use a priori reason to derive necessary actions or duties, the basis on which we are to act, from one of several formulations of the categorical imperative. Of these formulations, the one that accords best with the conception of freedom is the formula of autonomy. According to this formula, the categorical imperative commands the will to act in a way such that it both legislates laws for itself and at the same time subjects itself to those same laws. But to be sure, not just any law. The laws must conform to reason, which is universal to every rational being. When the will acts according to this formula of autonomy, it is the autonomous will. But the autonomous will is, as I mentioned even before I discussed the main argument, also the free will, in that it is practically free and (presumably) transcendentally free as well. As such, Kant’s conception of free will differs from competing conceptions in that far from being “free” from any constraints, it legislates and subjects itself to certain laws. This then establishes the connection between rationality, and through autonomy, freedom of the will. In any case, the derivation of free will from rationality and rationality from morality is now fairly clear. The good will acts according to reason as expressed in the categorical imperative. In turn, the rational will acts under normative prescriptions of rationality. Since rationality prescribes autonomy of the will, and the autonomous will is identical to the free will, the good will is at the same time both rational and free. Perhaps the only catch here is that strictly speaking, it seems that we can only derive practical freedom from morality, and not quite transcendental freedom. But if we also accept, as Kant insists we should, the postulate of free will as a transcendental idea, then we establish transcendental freedom as well. Accepting free will on this basis means that we have successfully completed the argument. Kant has shown (P2), and so we can validly infer from (Ax. 1), (P1), and (P2) that (C). This concludes Kant’s argument for free will from morality.

As a final word, there is one difficulty I want to mention before concluding. A source of tension lies in that while we are causally determined, we are also a first or spontaneous cause. It is not obvious how we can at once be determined by natural laws, just as rocks and trees are, and at the same time be a first cause whose effect takes place in the phenomenal world. So there seems to a sense in which causal determinism is compatible with freedom, yet Kant explicitly denies this possibility. Kant is an incompatibilist in that he thinks free will and determinism cannot both hold of the same world. Calvin Normore suggests that we can plausibly resolve this tension by postulating free will and determinism as holding at different moments in time in the same world (2008). For example, we can conceivably maintain that free will but not determinism holds from time t₁ to t₅, and also that determinism but not free will holds from time t₆ to t₁₀. Nonetheless, Kant seems to argue for a stronger conclusion that relies crucially on his distinction between the phenomenal world and the noumenal world. Simply put, he argues for a dualistic conception of us as being simultaneously present in both worlds. This way, we can maintain that while we are causally determined in the phenomenal world and subject to the laws of nature, we are also at the same time free in the noumenal world and subject to the laws of reason. Accordingly, the recognition of this dual presence in both worlds solves the tension between free will and causal determinism.

To conclude, I have shown Kant’s argument for free will from morality by appealing to the reciprocity thesis. Specifically, I reconstructed Kant’s argument as showing how the intuitive acceptance of morality implies rationality, and how rationality in turn implies free will. Following this, I mentioned the difficulty in conceiving ourselves as being both an effect of external causes and yet ourselves a first cause. Kant holds that while free will and determinism cannot both be true in the same world, the solution is to understand ourselves as being dually present in both the phenomenal world and the noumenal world.

Works Cited

Allison, Henry E. Kant’s Theory of Freedom. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990.

Guyer, Paul. Kant and the Experience of Freedom. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993.

Johnson, Robert. “Kant’s Moral Philosophy.” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. 2008. http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/kant-moral/ (accessed November 23, 2008).

Kant, Immanuel. Critique of Pure Reason. Edited by Paul Guyer and Allen W. Wood. Translated by Paul Guyer and Allen W. Wood. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007.

-. Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals. 3. Translated by James W. Ellington. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, Inc., 1993.

-. Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals. Third Edition. Translated by James W. Ellington. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Co., Inc., 1993.

-. Kant’s Critique of Practical Reason and Other Works on the Theory of Ethics. 5. Translated by Thomas Kingsmill Abbott. London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1898.

Normore, Calvin. “PHIL 301.” Montreal: McGill University, Fall 2008.

Pistorius, Hermann Andreas. “Rezension der Kritik der praktischen Vernunft.” In Materialien zu Kants “Kritik der praktischen Vernunft, by Rüdiger Bittner and Konrad Cramer, 175. 1974.

Endnotes

Kant outlines the tension between free will and determinism in the Third Antinomy of the Critique of Pure Reason (484-489).

It is helpful to conceive of the postulate of free will as one analogous to the postulate of causality or the postulate of teleology in natural science. Just as the scientist examines the natural world as though causality and teleology were true, rational beings live as though free will were true. In both cases, the rejection of a postulate results in a kind of practical inconceivability: that is, the project in mind (of science or of ethical living) is impossible without first postulating the validity of some law, even if such a law is unknown and even unknowable.

However, the precise nature of this relationship is not entirely clear. Henry Allison takes a closer look at this relationship in chapter 3 of Kant’s Theory of Freedom (54-70).

Kant assumes that we do in fact accept morality on an intuitive basis. So he does not attempt to convince the moral skeptic. He only wants to ground our intuitions.

Kant’s conception of free will is thus similar to the modern conception of freedom in political philosophy. A free state is often conceived of as one that is free from some influences but not others. Most importantly, it is free from external causes, but at the same time free to legislate and subject itself to laws in accordance with its constitution.

One critic notes: “I readily confess that this double character of man, these two I’s in the single subject, are for me, in spite of all the explanations which Kant himself and his students have given it, particularly with the well known antinomy of freedom, the most obscure and incomprehensible in the entire critical philosophy” (Pistorius 1974).

Andy Yu (’11) is a Philosophy and Economics major at McGill University

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Cover image: “Be Free” by Celsojunior

In Religion Within the Limits of Pure Reason Alone, Immanuel Kant considers the claim that God “arises out of mortality” without being the basis for moral obligation. “Morality thus leads ineluctably to religion, through which extends itself to the idea of a powerful moral Lawgiver, outside of mankind, for Whose will that is the final end (of creation) which at the same time can and ought to be man’s final end.” Kant develops what he calls the “pure religion of reason” and explains this true moral religion in relation to other established, historical religions. He was particularly interested in the question of how the moral recovery of individuals, and all of mankind, is possible. For Kant, religion as we know it is a synthesis of theological ideas and morality. There is really but one moral “religion”, divided into various ecclesiastical faiths that are influenced by their historical periods. Essentially, the creation of these faiths clarified his belief that “moral perfection” in individuals could only be brought about by the recovery of mankind as a whole; these faiths were created as an expression of this capacity to attempt to live a better moral life. Each faith is a historical religion, based upon a certain set of statutes that dictate to its followers what to do/not to do, while a true rational religion is based on morality. How do we know we are moral agents? What are the conditions of this “true religion” Kant speaks of and how do some faiths, most especially Judaism and Christianity, adhere or not adhere to these conditions? Overall, the biggest indicator of morality in Kant’s moral religion is our intentions to become better people and live better lives; whether we create faiths to structure these desires is irrelevant. Evidently, where these ecclesiastical faiths fail, is by providing limitations on our good deeds, rather than true exits. The only true answer we have to discovering our morality is by listening to or hearts and desiring to become good, in itself, while at the same time, realizing where we lack the knowledge to overcome evil and getting help.

Religion, as defined by Kant, is the recognition of a moral disposition (and the moral duties that this distinction encompasses) as divine commands (142). Man, as a rational being, is free and capable of changing and overcoming his propensity to evil (24). This ideal of moral recovery correlates to the ideal “of a humanity pleasing to God” in that a radical change in a mode of evil thought could imply man’s justification as a moral agent before God (21). However, this justification is dependent on man deemed free from evil, a claim that is uncertain in itself. As a natural propensity, evil can’t be overcome by a specific set of morally good actions. If that were the case, there would be a Guidebook to the Afterlife sold in stores everywhere. Rather, man on his own is unable to succeed and find moral security in his sensual world, so we must look to another power that we create and acknowledge as morally superior and omnipotent, in this case God.

The more crucial question here seems to be, if we are free and our own moral agents, how can God appear to be our moral legislators? In Book III of the Religion, Kant argues that the rule of the “moral principle will only be possible in an ethical state, i.e. kingdom of virtue.” This ethical state can’t be determined by man in a political sense, though human laws dictate certain kinds of behavior as any state normally would. Since an ethical state is formed free from forceful influence on ethical behavior, it can’t be governed solely by human laws. This must mean there must be something else-non human- governing, a divine figure (91). Moral legislation concerns the inner hearts and dispositions of human beings, which are not subject to external laws. God alone is able to recognize the good and see through our hearts and motives to know our moral beliefs (95).

However, though God is an important idea in morality, He is not so valuable as to merit direct obedience of His laws, per say. For Kant, God is an allegorical reference to our own morality that does not imply the stories and characteristics that biblical construction in Scripture acribes to Him. He is an abstract concept of reason; we create the philosophical notion of a God as an expression of our morality and rationality. This is the basis that Kant uses to strike a balance between God’s moral rule over us and our own human freedom. God is a supreme ruler who is not coercive; He would never force us to follow his laws and moral laws do not originate in him, though he is thought of as the “highest lawgiver in an ethical commonwealth” (90). In essence, God’s rule does not interfere with human autonomy, i.e. human legislation and He could not conceivably enact laws that are unknown to us but, He is not independent from moral law as it is designed by our human reason. Therefore, God only figures in our sensuality as a result of our human freedom and free will.

It is precisely the need to have this balance in our lives, and our desires to become morally better as we forever strive towards the God ideal, that mankind has created faiths and churches to bind us together in that struggle. Whether these connections of cooperation to be better people are completely pure is another story. As for his discussion of the faiths, Kant poses several limits on certain types, most especially Judaism. However, he does not criticize all aspects of organized religion; he only finds that there is a natural tension between moral principles and religious traditions. As was stated previously, there are many “religions”, all influenced by the time periods in which they were created, but there is only one universal moral law. Humans determine this moral law by relying on their own instincts and intentions as to whether they overcame the natural propensity to evil. We don’t need organized religion to explain our moral capacity; we already know it. Moreover, religious practices can undermine moral principles. A community life, even one in the form of a religious commonwealth, can foster impulses towards revenge and competition. Man’s propensity to evil can influence other men in society. Religious institutions often identify religious experience with the performance of certain rituals or the acceptance of certain beliefs. This is in itself dangerous because individuals can simultaneously adhere to strict requirements of a particular faith’s church and harbor hatred, jealousy or immoral desires. Secondly, some religious traditions promote the idea that incantations or professions of faith endear people to God (an example of this kind would be Calvinism). The danger here is that people would behave morally not because it’s the right (and thus rational) thing to do, but because it’s a daily chore designed to appease God’s wishes. This is of course, in itself, not moral because to behave morally is to do good deeds with good intentions, and not to be forcefully told to do anything we wouldn’t want to. Finally, and related to the previous comment, Kant objects to those religious traditions that say God’s grace will save you, regardless of your own behavior. Our actions have true moral worth only if we performed them independently, without God’s assistance.

In its original form, he argues, Judaism is not a religion at all, but merely a political entity masked in the form of an institutionalized religion. Firstly, Judaism is not essentially religious because its commands relate to external acts and lay no requirements “upon a moral disposition” (116). These commands are only to be observed in an outward fashion, not necessarily inward. However, Kant makes a point to say that the “Ten Commandments, are, to the eye of reason, as valid as ethical commands even had they not been given publicly” (116). Secondly, Judaism limits reward and punishment to this world, with no recognition of the possibility that these incentives/non-incentives affect the morality of the human soul as such. Thirdly, Judaism is adamant of the Jews as a conception of chosen persons (117). This shows enmity towards all other people, and therefore, evokes the enmity of all. Lastly, in several places in this book, Kant criticizes Abraham’s decision to slaughter his son at the command of God as immoral. These criticisms deserve to be discussed further.

Is Judaism really essentially political, rather than religious? Kant does not doubt that Jews, “each for himself, have framed some sort of religious faith which was mingled with the articles of their statutory belief.” This kind of religious faith he takes to be outside the “legislation of Judaism.” At this point, we can wonder what his relationship is to Judaism and what he considers to be its pro points. Presumably, he takes the Old Testament to be the defining text for Judaism and it can be said that, even with this historical scripture, Kant was right to a certain degree about the political tenets of this faith. Moses performed a political act when he freed slaves from bondage of an Egyptian pharaoh and the Israelites had political problems, among others. Kant’s position with respect to this faith (and subsequent faiths he discusses) calls into question the nature of heaven that we as moral agents hope for, not the nature of God by whose grace we gain passage to that kingdom. When he comes to question what is heaven, Kant gives us a kingdom of ends called an ethical commonwealth. It is here where we can find, for Kant’s criticism of Jews as chosen people, he seems at ease with the notion that a commonwealth of sorts made up of morally upright people (who can be called chosen) at its center is ok (90). From Kant’s perspective, Judaism seems to be centered around God, while his own position is centered around the prospects of a good life in heaven. However, he is completely opposed to the idea that one can have true knowledge of any world outside the empirical, sensual world he lives in. There is the possibility of knowing something, but this “knowledge” of other worlds is not certain or actual.

Kant is very critical of other religions that claim the ability to guarantee a follower’s acceptance into heaven. There is no guarantee, ever, that the morally good acts we do in this lifetime will translate to a place in the kingdom of heaven. The only activity that can be called pleasing to God is activity that is, in itself, morally good and useful in this world. While he argues that only through intentions can one be called moral or not, he also contends that none of us can look into the hearts (disposition) of another person. Thus, any legislation created on in this world can only be directed at allowing (or restricting) behavior, not intentions of individuals. Kant understands this better than most; his criticism of the Ten Commandments is that they lay no requirements on having a good moral disposition, simply that these laws be followed. To have the status of ethical commands, as he states earlier, they must be directed towards the moral disposition; in essence, we must do away with the conception of Ten Commandments as divine law and allow these “recommendations” to pervade our moral consciousness.

Kant’s claim that proper moral commands must “lay requirements upon the moral disposition” seems somewhat at odds in respect to his analysis of the nature and status of ethical principles. Kant points out that no command from outside an individual can stand strictly as an ethical command, unless it is simultaneously self imposed. We can’t be commanded to freely do the right thing, therefore, no purely external commands can be directed towards our inner disposition and be ethical. Either the command is directed at the behavior alone (which means its outside of ethical implications) or the command is one that an individual should later take on as self imposed.

Self imposition of these moral maxims is what defines who is morally good or evil; the notion of a chosen people that are graced by God as worthy of entering the gates of Heaven is both wrong and useless to Kant. Whereas Judaism has an idea of a chosen people, Christianity has a chosen individual, namely Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ is an example of what makes Christianity the closest of the faiths to a moral religion. Kant may say we should not think of this faith as so high to merit its establishment as superior because “we find that the religious doctrines of most other people peoples tended in the same direction,” but, he also offers no other examples than Christianity. For Kant, Christianity is the closest to coming towards a moral religion because it teaches us to want to be good. Judaism doesn’t go to this extent, and it is in this case that it lacks what Christianity has, however flawed it is.

Turning to Kant’s charge that Abraham’s decision to sacrifice Isaac was immoral. Looked at in the literal sense, it was immoral because the decision to take a life is in itself an evil action, with evil intentions. Kant himself presents a view (one that religious people in today’s age can be familiar with) that the Bible has to be interpreted by people of scholarship before it can be understood. It would have to be interpreted by standards of morality, naturally, because these faiths are created by church men with some set of laws that serve the divine. However, where these faiths go wrong is requiring that these laws need to be obeyed absolutely in order to serve and worship. For Kant, the only way to serve God and thus be religious is to serve man. One would try to speak hypothetically of this event as one that happened prior to the enactment of Ten Commandments and at a time where no moral laws were available to follow. Kant would immediately mark this defense as weak because for rational beings there is always a moral law that governs us, the categorical imperative. It exists in all humans, like Abraham. This is an example of how Scripture can make allegorical references -that for Kant is essential to understanding in our sensual world of any concept of the divine- in such a way that they can make claims that ordinarily would not match with a true moral religion.

However, Kant’s specific criticisms of Judaism seem thin in comparison to his laudation of Christianity as closer to his true moral religion. In one example: “Christianity possesses the great advantage over Judaism of being represented as coming from the mouth of the first teacher not as a statutory but as a moral religion, and thus entering into the closest relation with reason so that, through reason, it was able of itself, without historical learning, to be spread at all times and among all peoples with the greatest trustworthiness.” This seems to be at odds, somewhat, with his remark that the Ten Commandments, which are in of themselves statutory laws made by God, are valid as ethical commands in the view of reason. Apparently, there are exceptions in terms of statutory commands that can be a part of a moral religion.

In addition, in the Religion, we see Kant combine a compliment of a particular faith with a criticism. It is as if he merits their creation, but simultaneously denounces their ability to be the profound and primary religion for all people. For example, a fragment in Part II where he credits Jewish “theocracy” with establishing a form of government “instituted solely for the public and exclusive veneration of a principle of morality.” It seems that he’s impressed, except of course he immediately follows it with a lengthy criticism on their lack of attaining “spiritual natures” with respect to the overall moral good and not material goods of this world. “A people which has a written religion (sacred books) never fuses together in one faith with a people… possessing no such books but only rites…” The long history of Jews was “worthy of notice” but not proof of a divine special purpose; their long-lasting existence attributed to a written language of religion.

Even then, with a written religion, Kant wonders if Jews (and to this extent, Christians and Muslims whose religions were based off Judaism) had help in preserving these sacred tests because they were helped by the other ecclesiastical faiths. “For Jews could ever and again seek out their old documents among the Christians…whenever in their wandering their skill in reading these books and so the desire to posses them was lost…” Plainly, Kant sees the preservation of the Jewish people either “the proof of a special beneficent providence saving this people,” or “an example of punitive justice visited upon because it stiff-neckedly sought to create a political and not moral concept of the Messiah.”

It is precisely because of this skepticism with any institutional church calling itself a religion that we see Kant ascribe the merits of their teachings as explained through revelation and mystery. Kant takes mystery to be something that we know of, but can’t know in certainty enough to communicate it correctly and publicly. Mystery is distinguished from the inscrutable in that the inscrutable is defined as something we can communicate but can’t understand how it was created and for what cause. A man’s duty can’t be a mystery to him, however “inscrutable” it is, because it was essentially born out of his freedom and will. Kant then contrasts this idea of what we can do for our morality compared to what God alone can do. It is a genuine mystery of religion when we know why something occurs but not what it is that happens. An example of this is how we know God can help us to become moral, we don’t know how He does it but it is done somehow. In other words, we can answer the “why” question (because we want to be more moral individuals) but we need assistance and guidance to answer the “what” (what does God do to assist us? Revelation remains a mystery of comprehension to us but the basis for which to communicate our morality must, and will always, remain purely rational.

Revelation is in the group of concepts that Kant describes as unnecessary, but possible in relation to the expectations we have to try and live our lives morally. Also, in this group is religious enthusiasm. The simple religious observation of “God’s laws” ensures holy success for some in ecclesiastical faiths (including Judaism and Christianity). However, Kant rejects this idea of religious enthusiasm because it implies that a simple profession of faith (or sorrow for one’s previous sins) will please God, and that an absolute devotion to moral conduct isn’t required. Essentially, Kant sees religious enthusiasm as something that would help us avoid our moral responsibilities. As was discussed before, there is a lack of evidence suggesting our efforts will cause God to forgive our sins. Because we have no evidence we shouldn’t assume that public religious rituals have any affect on our moral standing in God’s eyes.

Kant’s true moral religion does not rely on institutionalized faiths and historical religious traditions to strive for a truer and more complete morality. Any rational person can adopt a pure moral faith if they intend to become better. Under moral faith, which can be said is part of the foundation of Kant’s religion, good moral conduct is far more important than ritual and/or public professions of faith. Good moral conduct is the standard by which we can postulate how we are as free beings and whether our ends and means are good in of themselves. Pure moral faith is demanding for its practitioners, not only because it is based upon a hypothetical and individualistic notion of “how far along are we on our journey to Good” but, because it requires these people to constantly evaluate their actions and make sure the duty motivates them.

Despite these apparent differences between Kant’s religion and Christianity (or Judaism), it is clear that they contain similarities. Both emphasize a fundamental change of heart, beyond a mere change of actions. As in Christianity, Kant believes the most important thing is the individual person and that human duties should be treated as divine commands. It is here, explicitly, that he shows his deep respect for Christian tenets in relation to his own moral religion. In Christianity, moral conduct is not a result of accident; it is a result of acting on our morally sound principles and by distinguishing between our desires and our duty to choose which desires to act on. These aspects of Christianity, and of any other similar religion, gel well with Kant’s beliefs in the importance of maxims. We must live in accordance to these moral rules to, in fact, be defined as moral. People who have chosen a set of maxims are morally free and thus, true agents of their morality. Faiths only provide hope, hope that we can eventually be completely moral in the eyes of the Supreme Lawgiver and thus, be good beings. It is plain to see how Immanuel Kant was influenced by organized religions. However, he sought to create a moral religion more in tune with our sensibilities as human beings living in society and interacting with one another.

Works Cited

Kant, Immanuel. Religion Within the Limits of Pure Reason Alone, edited by Theodore M. Greene.

(New York: Open Court Publishing Company, 1960)

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Daniel Arango (’09) is a Political Science and Philosophy double major at Boston University.

Essentially, humans have evolved to be able to infer through computing and processing information at a complex level – more than any other biological being. This feature most likely occurred through the process of natural selection according to the theory of evolution, and thus human beings have adapted to such feature. Although it took sometime to develop computational skills, it is proven that humans have adapted adequately tracing back to antiquity based on our evidence provided by historical and anthropological records. And humans have continued to fulfill their cognitive capacities by developing more complex cognitive skills up through the present day. To illustrate this point, let us assume that the first evolved human may not have understood the inference used in the proposition ‘2 + 2 = 4’, but today, a young child could exercise her computational skills and combine two objects with another two objects and come to the conclusion that two and two make up four, though the child might not know the language, depending on her age.

Moreover, it appears that the computational adaptation has become a genetic trait among humans. Since humans are constantly thinking, and there are many out there that devote their time to inquiring especially into scientific problems, which entails rigorous reasoning, inference is a common phenomenon on a daily basis. We use inference in mathematics, physics, logic, chemistry and most, if not all, of the “professional” disciplines, but it is not just limited to these subjects, it is also used in more simple things such as directions, cooking a meal, and other ordinary activities that people partake daily. Sure, what I have given thus far is just a generic description of the use of inference, but what is an inference exactly other than reasoning between things to derive a conclusion? By this, I mean, what is the nature of inference?

The activity of inference concerning one’s experience is usually founded with symbols or objects, and because of external factors playing a fundamental role in the inference, it seems plausible that the phenomenon, in part, has somewhat of a metaphysical nature from a mind-world perspective. My aim in this essay is to explore the nature of inference and attempt to show how it may be possible that inferences made about the external world, in part, are not just something of a physical nature that is contained and occurs only within the brain, which I think most people nowadays believe that it is only a physical process and consciousness all together is contained within the brain. In doing such task, I will inevitably show that inference requires the two branches of consciousness – access and phenomenal consciousness where the latter will draw on the active externalism thesis.

§1. An Explanation of the Nature of Inference (Roughly Speaking)

As I have just stated, the activity of inference based on an experience is usually founded with symbols or objects to begin with. To use a basic inference in logic for example, imagine using modus ponens. I have a conditional statement, then an assertion (the antecedent of the conditional statement) and from that I can derive a conclusion (the consequent of the conditional statement) inferentially.

So:

A → B
A
∴ B

Or I could use a simple mathematical expression similar to the one in the introduction – a combination of one and two leading to the result of three:
1 + 2 = 3

In my above examples, I ought to conclude that both examples are familiar cases of simple inference that philosophers and mathematicians are well acquainted with. Each are represented by symbols, but inferences are not limited to just being represented by symbols, they can be represented with objects (through experience) as well. Now, a neuroscientist may advocate that these inferences are a purely physical process occurring within the brain. It might be due to some chemical signal, firing of neurons, and so on. A computer scientist and artificial intelligence supporter would most likely say something similar but in terms of computer hardware. With all of the new discoveries in neuroscience and intelligent systems, it would be hard for one to doubt that inference is entirely of a physical nature that only occurs within the brain (or computer system). However, the problem at hand is the lack of clarity of this being a physical phenomenon entirely. The water is still cloudy so to speak and I cannot be certain that this conclusion is accurate without a more thorough look.

I am not going to deny that the biological components of the brain, in part, play a crucial role in human inference. In fact, because of biological neural networks, information can be transmitted and processed through chemical signals. But there seems to be another part that is missing and is not explainable through these neural systems. The feature, partially being developed by the brain, is something beyond matter when we look at inference from a mind-world perspective. There is a relation between mind and world where certain aspects of the world are an external extension of the mind – meaning that consciousness is not just contained within the head – and this view is commonly referred to as active externalism (1) (Chalmers & Clark, 1998). Similarly, Alva Noë appears to be a supporter of this line of thought as well, but has applied it to experience, and this application to experience is what I will be most concerned with throughout the paper. In “Experience Without the Head,” Noë states:

…what we experience visually (for example) may outstrip what we actually see. From this it follows not that experience could not be in the head. What follows, rather, is that it might not be, or rather, that some aspects of some experiences might not always be. A modest conclusion, but one that allows that, at least sometimes, the world itself may drive and so constitute perceptual experience. The world can enter into perceptual experience the way a partner joins us in a dance, or – to change the image slightly – the way the music itself guides us (Noë, 2006).

Noë makes the modest conclusion of “well, it might be or might not be,” which seems to be “iffy” on the subject, but I don’t think that such modesty is needed. There are instances given that serve as proof for the active externalism thesis (2). And active externalism also appears to be obvious in the case of inferences made about the external world because one is unable to make an inference on the most basic (or complex) events that occur within the world if there are no external objects (or symbols of representation present) given to make an inference from. The objects themselves give us a starting point to make inferences.

One may argue, however, that we do not need external objects (nor symbols) given to us through experience to make an inference relevant to the external world, but rather, some inferences can be made based on innate knowledge (3), or the protester may attempt to coin this knowledge as a priori, but it is obvious that ‘a priori’ here is being used in the wrong sense. Moreover, it seems absurd to believe that we have any sort of innate knowledge, especially with what empiricism has taught us over the past few centuries. It does not seem absurd, however, to have a priori synthetic knowledge in the correct sense. What I have expressed as a counter-argument above does not address a priori knowledge in the correct Kantian sense. If we were to take Kant’s actual proposal of there being a priori synthetic knowledge, then yes, I do believe that an inference can be made independent of perceptual experience, but this is much more difficult to explain, which would entail an extensive analysis, and is a different topic for a different day. We can conclude, however, that Kant would agree that experience “awakens” our faculty of knowledge and, for our sake, a priori synthetic knowledge will have to take the backseat to experience as far as we will be concerned. What I am trying to get at is explaining how we make inferences about the external world in a general sense and not to nit pick at our knowledge of space, time, geometry and the like – I am taking for granted that these types of knowledge are already presupposed. Therefore, experience must play a role in the foundation of inferences made about the external world. Once there are objects that are given to one’s perception for that person to make an inference on, the inference, in part, appears to be a quale. Why does it appear to be a quale? It is because there is an unexplainable, sensational gap, in terms of matter, between mind and world at this point in time. Let me use a diagram to illustrate this:

Now the use of the term ‘gap’ (also referred to as the “explanatory gap” by some) is ambiguous here, but what I think the gap, preventing consciousness being declared one-hundred percent fully physical due to the brain, is qualia and in this case, inference, in part, counting as a quale. The problem here is a sensational one, and inference can be partially of access consciousness, but I believe that it can also be partially of phenomenal consciousness (4) (Clark, 2000), where the phenomenal feature of inference is the unexplainable part in terms of matter. The reason for it being split into two parts is due to the one aspect being part of the computational (access) – cognitive processing – and the other being sensational (phenomenal) through perceptually experiencing objects, which contain different qualities that can be sensed, within the world to make inferences on.

When one perceives say a man and woman kissing, she would infer that they are a couple (5). The image would be processed within the brain to make the inference that they are a couple, but the inference begins before the brain receives the image because the experience of the event is necessary to make the inference at all (the perceptual experience is the foundation of the inference) and this is where the unexplainable gap of inference occurs sensationally, or if it were not the case that certain aspects of the world function as an extension of the conscious mind by aiding our mental processes, then this inference would not be possible to make because one would not have the representational mental image of the man and woman kissing. Thus, the cause of the inference does not begin with computation in the brain; the cause of inference in most cases lies in one’s perceptual experience of the external world.

With this explanation of the two parts of consciousness being required in making an inference relevant to the external world, it appears that I am taking a Kantian approach. As Kant had described in his Critique of Pure Reason, the faculty of knowledge is distinguished by sensibility and the understanding. Objects are given to us by means of sensibility, which yield us intuitions, and the understanding allows intuitions to be thoughtful, which concepts arise. The effect of an object on the faculty of representation is called sensation. And the intuition that is in relation to an object through sensation is empirical. So, an empirical intuition gives us appearances of objects that can later become knowledge (Kant, 1929). If we stand on this latter notion only, however, we might run into a problem with giveness or simply putting it, fall into Sellars’s “Myth of the Given.” Luckily for us, that is not the case. Even though empirical intuition gives us appearances of objects, it cannot by itself constitute knowledge. Rather appearances are thought spontaneously through the understanding and concepts of the appearances develop from the understanding. Thus, I think it is safe to say that through concepts, we can have knowledge. Similarly, my approach to inference takes a resembling line of thought with emphasis on a holism of phenomenal and access consciousness being relevant in one making an inference. By only having the perceptions of objects, we cannot call that knowledge. Not only is that problematic, but the perceptions cannot be computed through phenomenal consciousness and thus we have no inference at all. In support of this idea, imagine perceiving an object at one instance and the object later becomes a concept that is cognitively accessible. If the object changes over time and we perceive it after the change, then we have a new perception of the object, which becomes a concept and clashes with the previous concept of that object. So the latter would replace the former, I think, and we would have a new cognitively accessible concept. However, such a process cannot occur in phenomenal consciousness because we would not recognize the change in the object that occurs between perceptual instances. So there is a dependence on access consciousness needed here to process images and output a conclusion inferentially. The dependence, however, is necessarily reciprocal, and that is the stressing point of this paper.

There still may be confusion lingering around on how inference, in part, can be a quale since what I have mentioned thus far are objects in general and not subjective qualities. However, I will attempt to address this issue now. When one perceives anything in the world, the perceiver’s experience of objects leads her to perceive qualities of the objects as well. The qualities are contained within all objects and necessarily predicate those objects. I do not think that it would even be conceivable to imagine an object absent of “secondary” qualities. For example, if a mysterious object had appeared to me in which the object looked though as the color was absent due to some aspect of the object being unfamiliar to me, I would be wrong in allowing myself to think this way because my perception surely could be matched up somewhere on the color spectrum. Moreover, since objects are the foundation of inferences made about the external world, and all objects necessarily contain various qualities within themselves, then that implies that the cause of inference (perceptual experience) necessarily contains qualia, and thus qualia is a necessity in phenomenal consciousness of an inference, which would make itself a broader version of qualia accounting for every sensational property and not just an individual sensation such as ‘seeing red’.

§2. An Attempt of Clarification

Clearly, my theory would seem obscure to most and it could be due to misunderstanding the theory since it is quite a task to explain it coherently6, but let me attempt to explain it analogously to a popular thought experiment. In Frank Jackson’s thought experiment about Mary and the black and white room, Mary was confined to a black and white room and was never exposed to any other colors. She knew everything there was to know about the physical world through her books on chemistry, physics and neurophysiology. One day, Mary was taken out of the room and shown a ripe, red tomato. Mary had no idea what the property red was since she had never experienced it before. Therefore, Mary learned something new and proved that she did not know all there is to know about the world (Jackson, 1986).

Similarly, imagine mechanical Mary, who is exactly the same as a human, in a room that is completely dark with no lighting of any sort. A constant temperature is kept so that Mary cannot sense a variation. There are no sounds, smells or things to be tasted in the room and the scientists of the experiment have developed devices that would temporarily disable Mary’s sense of taste, smell, touch and hearing, but she would remain a conscious being. Since the room is extremely dark, Mary would not be able to use her sight to view anything other than blackness. After several years, mechanical Mary is taken outside of the room and exposed to the real world and the scientists re-enable her senses. Obviously, she has no clue of what anything is that she perceives. But since she is like a human in every way, she has computational skills programmed in her. The scientists sit her at a little children’s play table with two wooden blocks on one side and two on the other. Mary sees the one set of blocks and instinctively moves her arm towards the blocks. The back of her hand smashes into the blocks causing the blocks to fall on the floor. Like a child, Mary recollects on the act and impulsively lets out a laugh, and then she begins to move her other arm towards the set of blocks that remain on the table and proceeds to push them onto the floor as well because she thought that the act was funny and it made her feel happy. So she inferred that by doing it again, she would obtain the same result.

From this experiment, the scientists have learned that mechanical Mary performed a basic computational inference through performing an instinctive act, which caused a mess and made Mary laugh and feel happiness for the first time. She had inferred by doing the same procedure again to the other set of blocks, she would obtain the same result. However, while confined to the black room, she had never inferred anything of this nature before other than the fact that she exists, but nothing about the actual world and her environment because she had never experienced anything sensationally beyond staring at the blackness of the room. Thus, an inference about the external world is dependent on perceptual experience. The world provides objects that eventually become representational mental states, which are sent and computed in the brain for one to make inferences on. Let us not forget that the objects give rise to non-representational mental states also. And since this type of inference is dependent on objects, inference extends over mind and world, which would entail inference partially due to cognitive processes and partially due to sensation where the latter is unexplainable in terms of the physical because of subjectivity and qualia being contained within the experience, which are necessary components in the perception of objects, and I think inference can be declared as a quale itself in certain respect on the phenomenal consciousness side.

Furthermore, the thought experiment regarding mechanical Mary also illustrates that the success of Mary’s adaptation to her environment is dependent on the active externalism thesis. Even though this is a fictional case, we are shown that if it were possible to insert a human into the situation with all of the necessary conditions, then we could conclude that the success of the adaptation to the environment is dependent on the environment providing the human with external “instruments” that would serve as an extension of the person’s consciousness by aiding their mental processes, which will allow them to make inferences.

To conclude, I have argued that inferences made on worldly experience rely on a holistic process. Not only is access consciousness, which does the work of computing information to output a conclusion, but phenomenal consciousness, where the inference begins, is required also since it is the starting point of the inference itself. Overall, I believe that this new analysis of inference has created another roadblock for physicalism since phenomenal consciousness entails subjectivity and qualia in perception. Qualia have been problematic for physicalists in the philosophy of mind and also have prevented a plausible materialist position of the mind from being developed.

References

Chalmers, D. & Clark, A. (1998) “The Extended Mind,” Analysis 58, pp. 10-23

Clark, A. (2000) “A Case Where Access Implies Qualia,” Analysis 60: 265, pp. 30-38

Jackson, F. (1986) “What Mary Didn’t Know,” Journal of Philosophy 83: 5, pp. 291-295

Kant, I. (1929) Critique of Pure Reason, Translated by Norman Kemp Smith, New York, NY:
Palgrave Macmillian, pp. 65-67

______(1977) Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics, Translated by James Ellington,
Indianapolis, IN: Hackett, pp. 10-11

Noë, A. (2006) “Experience Without the Head.” In Tamar Szabo Gendler & John Hawthorne
(Eds.) Perceptual Experience, New York, NY: Oxford University Pres

Sellars, W. (1997) Empricism and the Philosophy of Mind, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press

Footnotes

(1) This is a generalization made of Chalmers and Clark’s theory of the extended mind.

(2) See Chalmers & Clark, 1998. The Tetris case and the thought experiment regarding Otto who has Alzheimer’s.

(3) One might question why I have brought up innate knowledge. They may assume that I am still dwelling on the Cartesian notion of the mind having some innate knowledge, but rest assured that is not the case. It is the case, however, that some linguists, psychologists, cognitive scientists, and even philosophers today still believe that the mind has some innate concepts. Thus, this counter-argument is not all that improbable.

(4) See Clark, 2000. Access consciousness, in brief, is when content of a mental state is available for control of rational action for use of verbal reports or reasoning. In contrast, phenomenal consciousness involves experiential properties such as ‘what it is like’ to see red and the like (qualia). This is a thesis that has been defended by Ned Block and others.

(5) The inference need not be true. P & Q will φ iff P & Q are a couple. It is not the case that this statement is necessarily true. P could be a man where Q is his mother, which would entail, in a strictly normal sense, that they are not a couple. In the latter case, the above statement would be false. Moreover, I am not particularly concerned with the truth or falsehood of the inference, just the inference in general.

(6) As you will notice, section one is somewhat scattered and ill-structured. But when read in its entirety, I think it forms a bigger picture.

L.J. Elkin (’09) is a Philosophy major at University of Pittsburgh.