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  1. At the Central Division meeting of the American Philosophical Association in February 2020 (Chicago, Palmer House), the topic of the Ayn Rand Society session will be "Aristotle and Rand on the Standard of Value." James Lennox will chair the session. Greg Salmieri will deliver the paper "'Man's Life' in the Ethics of Rand and Aristotle". The commentator will be Joseph Karbowski. Thursday, 27 February 2020, 7:30-10:30 pm.
  2. PNC Ground Shifts to the Side of the Subject – Conventionalism V For the second edition of his book (1946), Ayer did not revise the text, but he wrote an Introduction in which he clarified some points and stated his revised positions on other points. Ayer had taken the usual view contra Mill that necessary propositions or necessary truths had to be a priori, not derived from experience (1946, 74–85). That view and Ayer’s view that only analytic propositions were such a priori ones had not changed. He clarified his view that a priori propositions do not describe any facts, saying he means facts that verify those propositions, as empirical propositions can be verified. “I now think that it is a mistake to say that they [a priori propositions] are themselves linguistic rules. For apart from the fact that they can properly be said to be true, which linguistic rules cannot, they are distinguished also by being necessary, whereas linguistic rules are arbitrary. At the same time, if they are necessary it is only because the relevant linguistic rules are presupposed. Thus it is a contingent, empirical fact that the word ‘earlier’ is used in English to mean earlier, and it is an arbitrary, though convenient, rule of language that words that stand for temporal relations are to be used transitively; but, given this rule, the proposition that, if A is earlier than B and B is earlier than C, A is earlier than C becomes a necessary truth.” (1946, 17) How in the world could he avoid seeing the feebleness of claiming necessities of transitivity for these propositions comes from acceptance of an arbitrary rule of language? Is it not straightforward to discern that the necessity in the transitivity of these propositions reflects merely a necessity in temporal relations which are topic of these propositions? Ayer had great intellectual sympathy with Hume, and one might wonder if Ayer was at this stage holding on to a view of temporality as contingent, close to Hume’s in the Treatise (which view Kant thoroughly demolished; see Rödl 2012, 111–68; see also Honderich 1987). Be that as it may, it is clear Ayer recognized the conventions taken as source of logical necessity must be arbitrary if they are to serve in maintaining a chasm between logic and empirical facts. Even if Kant’s reason for thinking arithmetic to be not analytic is off the mark, Ayer did not make a good case that arithmetic is analytic in his sense (expression of convention governing language), thence necessarily true regardless of the constitution of the physical world empirically present. Among Wittgenstein’s scribbles circa 1937–1938, he observed that various sorts of items, such as apples or beans, are such that by counting portions of a collection of those items and counting totals of that collection, one can demonstrate the correctness of summation in arithmetic. “This is how children learn sums; for one makes them put down three beans and then another three beans and then count what is there. If the result at one time were 5, another 7 (say because, as we should now say, one sometimes got added, and one sometimes vanished of itself), then the first thing we said would be that beans were no good for teaching sums. But if the same thing happened with sticks, fingers, lines and most other things, that would be the end of all sums. / But shouldn’t we then still have 2+2 = 4? —This sentence would have become unusable.” (Wittgenstein 1978, 51–52) Late in life, Ayer wrote “I am more baffled than enlightened by his [Wittgenstein’s] Remarks on the Foundations of Mathematics. Nevertheless he does make one point of the utmost importance: he calls attention to the dependence of arithmetic upon contingent matters of fact.” Ayer then rehearsed Wittgenstein’s fancy of a world without exemplification of our arithmetic sums, and Ayer asked: “Would the proposition 7+5 = 12 be false in such a world? No. It would still be valid within the framework of standard arithmetic. It would have become not false but useless. . . . it would, says Wittgenstein, be the end of all sums. I am not convinced that this would be so. . . . I do not find it inconceivable that someone would devise an arithmetic which was adapted to such natural facts” (1989, 484–85). Talk of such deliberate adaptedness seems to forget about the supposed chasm between the analytic and the world. Ayer held out to the end the hope that arithmetic, being not from empirical generalization, is purely analytic (there being no other sort of necessary truths in the view of Ayer and other logical empiricists). It was not a tenable hope. As a contrast to sums among countable things like beans or like words in a sentence, we need not turn to a radical fancy such as Wittgenstein’s. We can turn to contrasting the sorts of sums in the actual world. A positive road grade of 153 yards per mile added to a positive road grade of 153 yards per mile does not sum to a grade of 306 yards per mile, but to 310. 3 yards per mile. Road grades are just as physically real as beans. Different sorts of summations are right for things different in certain of their magnitude-characters. There is no place, I maintain, indifferent to physical reality for pure mathematical summation to abide in “pure analyticity” nor to be based most fundamentally on arbitrary convention. It was not only of the a priori, necessary principles constituting mathematics, but of such principles constituting logic, Ayer had maintained: “If they are necessary it is only because the relevant linguistic rules are presupposed” (1946, 17). Linguistic rules concerning whether nouns shall have genders with which varieties of definite article must agree (as in German) surely would not be the relevant sort of presupposition—relevant sort of acceptance by one as rule for one’s language—to source the necessity in logic we all put to work in our discursive thought. A linguistic source plausible enough to get off the ground would have to be some deeper aspect of grammar, an aspect common to all languages. Recall the picture by Kant that I recorded in Kant I (this picture omitted from the English translation available for Peikoff 1964 and Ayer 1946): “The science which contains these universal and necessary laws [of thought] is simply a science of the form of thought. And we can form a conception of the possibility of such a science, just as a universal grammar which contains nothing beyond the mere form of language, without words, which belong to the matter of language.” That remark engages an analogy in which grammatical form is to grammar-slots filled with particular nouns, verbs, and so forth, as logical form is to its occasions of use in particular topics. Beyond analogy, Sebastian Rödl plumbs deep grammar of thought, along lines of the first Critique (Rödl 2012, 4, 22–25). Deeper plumbs, whether of grammar of language or grammar of thought, pull logical empiricists such as Ayer willy nilly hopelessly far from arbitrary convention as base for logic and its necessities. Wittgenstein evidently suffered that same pull (Ben-Menahem 2006, 265–69). “To collapse correctness into propriety is to obliterate the essential character of thought” (Haugeland 1998, 317; further, 325–43; see also Rasmussen 1982; 2014, 337–41; Rand 1966–67, 47–48; Peikoff 1967, 104; 1991, 143–44). (To be continued, with Ernest Nagel and Arthur Pap next.) References Ayer, Alfred Jules. [1936] 1948. Language, Truth and Logic. New York: Dover. ——. 1989. Reply to F. Miró Quesada. In Hahn 1992, 478–88. Ben-Menahem, Yemina. 2006. Conventionalism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Biondi, Paolo C. and Louis F. Groake, eds. 2014. Shifting the Paradigm – Alternative Perspectives on Induction. Berlin: De Gruyter. Hahn, Lewis Edwin. 1992. The Philosophy of A.J. Ayer. La Salle, Illinois: Open Court. Haugeland, John. 1998. Truth and Rule-Following. In Having Thought – Essays in the Metaphysics of Mind. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. Honderich, Ted. 1989. Causation: One Thing Just Happens after Another. In Hahn 1992, 243–70. Peikoff, Leonard 1964. The Status of the Law of Contradiction in Classical Ontologism. Ph.D. dissertation, New York University. ——. 1967. The Analytic-Synthetic Dichotomy. In Rand 1966–67, 88–121. ——. 1991. Objectivism: The Philosophy of Ayn Rand. New York: Dutton. Rand, Ayn. 1966–67. Introduction to Objectivist Epistemology. Expanded 2nd edition. New York: Meridian. Rasmussen, Douglas B. 1982. Necessary Truth, the Game Analogy, and the Meaning-Is-Use Thesis. The Thomist 46(3):423–40. ——. 2014. Grounding Necessary Truth in the Nature of Things. In Biondi and Groarke 2014, 323–58. Rödl, Sebastian. 2012. Categories of the Temporal – An Inquiry into the Forms of the Finite Intellect. Translated by Sibylle Salewski. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. Wittgenstein, Ludwig. 1978. Remarks on the Foundations of Mathematics. Edited by G.H. von Wright, R. Rhees, and G.E.M. Anscombe. Translated by G.E.M. Anscombe. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press.
  3. ~Errata~ And I am thereby indicating the convention with which governs our usage of the words 'if' and 'all'. . . . saying anything about the way things are---on this point they agreed with Wittgenstein . . . 1948 1946
  4. PNC Ground Shifts to the Side of the Subject – Conventionalism IV Leonard Peikoff’s dissertation sets out a developmental conceptual story across the centuries of philosophy. His pages present the story of the theories put forth for the place, character, and origin of PNC and the points on which those theories become untenable, suggesting replacement theories. That contradictions cannot obtain in reality is a necessary truth. The existence of necessary truths poses a problem for philosophers. “One way of putting the problem is as follows: How can man, who has access to only a very limited portion of a universe whose character is independent of what man thinks about it, nevertheless know with certainty that certain truths will obtain throughout all the regions of space and across the whole course of future time? . . . The conventionalists, in principle, find the solution in denying that necessary truths provide information about any world, real or phenomenal, and in construing them instead as expressive of relations between meanings which men themselves have created; i.e. the conventionalists protect necessary truths from the vagaries of an uncertain world, not by claiming a particular insight into the structure of that world nor legislative power over it, but rather by cutting them off from the world and making them independent of what occurs in it.” (Peikoff 1964, 230) It is only conventionalism that cuts off necessary truths from the world that was or is provocative. The conventionalists Peikoff mentions were as guilty of equivocation in describing their position as “conventionalist” as were their critics. When they pass off the practicality, convenience, or effectiveness of using PNC and other necessary truths in thinking or communication as showing the “conventionalism” of their position, they are being imprecise (possibly for showiness). Ayer is an example of that, and I’ll look at him in a moment and in the next installment. Firstly, I want to point out that when one takes necessary truths to be tools, having (in our supposed choice of them among supposed alternatives) highest practicality, convenience, or effectiveness, one is certainly not cutting them off from the world and making them independent of what occurs in it, even were one to imagine that is what one is doing. Aristotle pointed out that if one wants an artifact to be effective as a saw, making its teeth of iron is the smart choice. Why? Because of the nature of the world! It is only certain parts of what conventionalists put forth as conventionalism that actually goes to their position of making necessary truths independent of the structure of the world. Any points at which they are speaking of the practicality, convenience, or effectiveness of necessary truths go against, not to, the provocative part in their pronouncements that conventionality makes necessary truths what they are. At the end of his dissertation, Peikoff sets out some points on which a new sort of ontologism of PNC would need to diverge from previous ones to block the alternative of conventionalism. This is a highly informed set of constraints—shown to be highly informed by the dissertation—to apply for a viable new ontologism, and Peikoff silently knows that Rand’s epistemology to be issued in a couple of years after his dissertation, along with his own addendum (1967) to that epistemology, will be satisfying those constraints. Peikoff 1964 does not undertake an exposure of the weaknesses in the conventionalists positions he notes as having displaced ontologism to mid-twentieth century. I shall critique those conventionalist approaches. Conventionalisms too, not only previous ontologisms, had their inadequacies, which by now in philosophy have been exposed, opening the area for reformed ontologisms. For logical empiricist Ayer, the path to an account of logical and mathematical truths and their necessities is the exclusive and exhaustive division of all truths into either empirical ones or analytic ones, where analyticity is conceived in a very thin way. Like logical empiricists Reichenbach, Schlick, and Carnap before him, Ayer rejected Kant’s synthetic class of necessary, a priori truths. The only necessary, a priori truths Ayer acknowledged were analytic ones. Sebastian Rödl observes that this rejection of the existence of synthetic a priori knowledge is of a piece with rejection of the idea of logic as including general forms of right connection of thought to the world (e.g. Kant’s transcendental logic or Rand’s theory of proper concepts and definitions), leaving only right deductive inference (formal calculii) as logic (Rödl 2012, 3, 22–27, 33–39, 43–45). In the view of Ayer, analytic propositions “are entirely devoid of factual content. And it is for this reason that no experience can confute them. “When we say that analytic propositions are devoid of factual content, and consequently that they say nothing, we are not suggesting that they are senseless in the way that metaphysical utterances are senseless. For, although they give us no information about any empirical situation they do enlighten us by illustrating the way in which we use certain symbols. Thus if I say, ‘Nothing can be colored in different ways at the same time with respect to the same part of itself’, I am not saying anything about the properties of any actual thing; but I am not talking nonsense. I am expressing an analytic proposition, which records our determination to call a color expanse which differs in quality from a neighboring color expanse a different part of a given thing. In other words, I am simply calling attention to the implications of a certain linguistic usage. Similarly, in saying that if all Bretons are Frenchmen, and all Frenchmen Europeans, the further statement that all Bretons are Europeans is implicitly contained. And I am thereby indicating the convention with governs our usage of the words ‘if’ and ‘all’. “We see, then, that there is a sense in which analytic propositions do give us new knowledge. They call attention to linguistic usages, of which we might otherwise not be conscious, and they reveal unsuspected implications in our assertions and beliefs.” (79–80) What is an analytic proposition (or analytic truth) according to Ayer? What was his definition of analyticity? Kant had held that all necessary judgments had to be known a priori. What made an analytic judgment a necessary judgment was that its predicate was conceptually contained in its subject. The concept of a body contains the concept that bodies are extended in space. “Bodies are extended” is necessarily so. Kant’s concept of containment is not entirely determinate. He takes “all bodies are extended” as analytic. What about “all smart women are smart”? Is that a variety of analytic containment? If one denies that all smart women are smart, one plainly has contradicted oneself. Kant required analytic statements to be contradictions upon denial, but it is unclear whether that requirement is a fundamental criterion for analyticity or only a variety of his containment criterion for analyticity (Juhl and Loomis 2010, 4–8). Bolzano tried to formulate a clearer concept of analyticity, one more centered on logic. If a proposition’s truth value remains constant under any substitution of its terms not belonging to logic itself, it is analytic. Also, the the rules of logic are analytic. Frege took up that concept of analyticity, imported it into his logic wider than subject-predicate logic, and argued that, contra Kant, propositions of arithmetic are analytic, not synthetic a priori. Russell identified an important flaw in that Frege program and made innovations to keep the program afloat (ibid., 11–18; further, Burgess 2005, 34–46; Potter 2000). Logical empiricists such as Ayer were heirs of this logic-centered concept of analyticity and its proposed undergirding of arithmetic. Then too, they took to heart Wittgenstein’s analysis of logical truths (such as PNC) in Tractatus, a work informed by logical ideas of Frege and Russell, but a work crafting “a single, unified relation between language and the world” (Juhl and Loomis 2010, 19). “Unlike Frege, Wittgenstein did not treat logical truths as statements or propositions at all. Rather, he saw such truths as ‘tautologies’ which, while they might show the ‘logical scaffolding of the world’, do not themselves say anything” (ibid.). “The fact that language, and the world it pictured, possesses certain ‘formal’ features was thought by Wittgenstein to be shown (although not said) in the fact that certain expressions are tautologies. But the Vienna Circle [1926–1938] was dissatisfied with this conception. Wittgenstein’s talk of ‘showing formal properties of the world’ smacked of the metaphysics they, as empiricists, were concerned to avoid. Rather, Circle members (Moritz Schlick and Rudolf Carnap in particular) proposed treating the truths of logic as expressions of the conventions governing a given language. Their role was thus not one of saying anything about the way things—on this point they agreed with Wittgenstein—but rather that of spelling out the relations of implication among statements. And to the extent that mathematics could be reduced to logic following Frege and Russell, a similar account could be given of mathematical truths as well—they too express relations between statements. /There thus emerges a new conception of analytic truths as expressions of the conventions governing language.” (Juhl and Loomis 2010, 20–21) Ayer’s philosophy tutor at Oxford, beginning in 1929, was Gilbert Ryle. Ryle introduced Ayer to the works of Russell and to Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. Ayer was captivated by Tractatus. Circumstances converged such that Ayer was given two terms leave of absence from Oxford, and at Ryle’s urging, Ayer headed for Vienna. Carnap was absent from the Circle for that interval, but it was in Vienna that Ayer became impressed with the work of Carnap. In 1933 Ayer lectured at Oxford on Wittgenstein and Carnap. Other influences on Ayer were Popper and C. I. Lewis. Ayer’s Language, Truth and Logic was published in 1936. It was to become one of the most famous English-language philosophy books of the twentieth century. The edition of it used by Peikoff in his dissertation and in “The Analytic-Synthetic Dichotomy” was the same as ours today: the second edition, 1948. (Continuation with Ayer in the next installment.) References Ayer, Alfred Jules [1936] 1948. Language, Truth and Logic. New York: Dover. Burgess, John P. 2005. Fixing Frege. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Juhl, Cory and Eric Loomis 2010. Analyticity. New York: Routledge. Peikoff, Leonard 1964. The Status of the Law of Contradiction in Classical Ontologism. Ph.D. dissertation, New York University. Potter, Michael 2000. Reason’s Nearest Kin – Philosophies of Arithmetic from Kant to Carnap. New York: Oxford University Press. Rödl, Sebastian 2012. Categories of the Temporal – An Inquiry into the Forms of the Finite Intellect. Translated by Sibylle Salewski. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press.
  5. This is taken from a work posted at OL in 2013. It will be good to have this much available right here. Objectivist Concept of Truth Rand wrote in 1966: “Truth is the product of the recognition (i.e., identification) of the facts of reality. Man identifies and integrates the facts of reality by means of concepts. He retains concepts in his mind by means of definitions. He organizes concepts into propositions—and the truth or falsehood of his propositions rests, not only on their relation to the facts he asserts, but also on the truth or falsehood of the definitions of the concepts he uses to assert them, which rests on the truth or falsehood of his designations of essential characteristics.” (ITOE 48) Brand Blanshard’s book Reason and Analysis appeared in 1962. (Leonard Peikoff made some use of that book and an earlier one by Blanshard The Nature of Thought in his dissertation completed in 1964.) It was reviewed favorably by Nathaniel Branden the following year in The Objectivist Newsletter. Branden understood that Blanshard was some sort of absolute idealist, but the book offered access to contemporary positivist and analytic philosophy (including the analytic-synthetic distinction), and it offered criticisms of them, which Objectivists might join. In Rand’s view, Branden said, in his Basic Principles of Objectivism lectures (c. 1968): “All knowledge is contextual, which means: has to be integrated, has to form a logical, consistent, non-contradictory whole. / ‘All thinking’, states Galt, 'is a process of identification and integration’. All logic, then, is a process of context-keeping. No conclusion of a formal logical argument can be considered true out-of-context. Only a full context can determine its truth or falsehood.” (Branden 2009, 75) Peikoff wrote “Logical processing of an idea within a specific context of knowledge is necessary and sufficient to establish the idea’s truth” (OPAR 171). Peikoff maintained that unless his proposition is true, the fact that we don’t know everything can be turned into the skeptical result that we don’t know anything. If we have no means of possessing any limited knowledge not susceptible to being shown false in the future, no means of knowledge sufficient for truth, then the skeptic can say “for all we know, all of our limited knowledge is false.” “Logical processing” in Rand’s philosophy, as is well known, includes a lot and is essential to truth and objectivity. To know the number of oval-head #4 five-eighths-inch brass screws I have remaining in their box, I need to count them. That process and result will require not only correspondence, but the right connections among the parts of the process of counting. Moreover, the process of counting is not only necessary; counting, with all my counting crosschecks, is sufficient for truth about the number of screws. Truth at a conceptual level of cognition is necessarily an integration, and if it were entirely free of any misidentifications in all its network, it would necessarily be true. That is, in this limit of cognitive performance, the cognitive conditions are sufficient for truth. That is Rand's picture. I say Peikoff's establish should stand between verify or confirm, on the one hand, and constitute, on the other; therewith he was not saying something beyond Rand’s picture of ’57 and ’66–’67. I take issue with Rand’s philosophy on the issue neatly captured in Peikoff’s statement. To start, the “an idea” and the “the idea” will usually have evolved with the advance of knowledge. That all animals are mortal was a truth with the Greeks as with us, but what we mean by animal and mortal have been considerably revised and improved over what it meant to them. The reference class of what is meant by animal has broadened and understanding of what is living process and its cessation has expanded tremendously. But Peikoff’s statement can likely be elaborated so as to take all that into account without substantive retreat. I attended Lecture 6 in Peikoff’s 1992 series The Art of Thinking. Peikoff remarked there, allowing for inaccuracy in my notes, that he does not see the preface “in the present context of knowledge” as sensible for: (i) perceptions or memory, (ii) automated conceptual identifications (table in contrast with hostility or pneumonia), and (iii) axioms (philosophical [very delimited; widest framework] and mathematical [very delimited subjects]). Saying “in the present context” in the cases where it is sensible is not proof against error. One can have been fully rational to have held views based on errors one later sees. However, error is not inevitable for the methodologically conscious adult. That is what I have in my notes. Suppose one’s knowledge were based on perceptual observation and correct reasoning upon them, including correct use of mathematics in application to them. Then it would seem fair to say that “Logical processing of an idea within a specific context of knowledge is necessary and sufficient to establish the idea’s truth” (OPAR 171). Perfect conceptual identifications, even though not all the identity of their referents are known, if perfect in all presently known connections with observations and with all other perfect conceptual identifications, are sufficient to establish the conceptual identification’s truth. Leaving aside the three categories of knowledge set aside in Lecture 6, there remains much in our knowledge that is also virtually perfect knowledge, because it has been so thoroughly tested for contradiction in its many connections, and because these durable propositions have been given ever more exact delimitation with the advance of science. “All animals are mortal” or “I must breathe to live” are examples. Even for a given context of knowledge, our integration and checking for contradictions is an incomplete work in progress. Meanwhile, we are adding new information, more context for knowledge, and beginning its integration and checking for contradiction. For all conceptual identifications in a condition of significantly incomplete integration and checking, correct logical processing is insufficient to establish truth (cf. Peikoff in Berliner 2012, 303–4). At first blush, this is no problem for the Rand-Peikoff view, for that just means that the knowledge is not to be rightly taken as certain knowledge. Rand’s picture in Peikoff’s bold statement is significantly incorrect in my view because as one’s (scientific) knowledge grows one’s knowledge of what was one’s previous context of knowledge also grows. One continues to learn what were the ways in which one's previous generalizations were over-generalizations (and in what ways they were inexplicit, indefinite, or vague). There was no reason to suppose that the Galilean rule for addition of velocities was only a close approximation to the low-velocity portion of a different rule for addition of velocities more generally, no reason until the electrodynamical results in the nineteenth century. There was no reason to post a specific caveat before then, along the lines of "for all velocities we've experienced so far." It remains that in present truth there is past truth and so forth to the future. We cannot know entirely which elements of scientific truth today will stand in a hundred more years of advance nor how those elements will have been transformed and connected with new concepts. Our repeatable experiments will still be repeatable (notwithstanding the unfounded imaginings of the Hume set), whatever new understanding we bring to them. Peikoff is correct when he writes “No matter what the study of optics discovers, it will never affect the distinction between red and green. The same applies to all observed facts, including the fact of life” (1991, 192). Peikoff’s sufficiency clause—its application to all cases for which the proviso of delimited truth-context pertains—is not necessary to foil skeptical maneuver. That rational thinkers sometimes have very reasonably taken something for true that is later shown to be false does not justify skepticism. Every such showing of falsehood is a showing of truth and a showing that skepticism concerning the type of knowledge at hand is false. Neither does the skeptic, nor the relativist, have justification for skipping to the contradictions of earlier science with later science, skipping, that is, the context of non-contradiction as a norm, the everywhere-context of things as they are and our ability to know them. Rand read John Hosper’s book An Introduction to Philosophical Analysis in 1960–61. Rand’s firm anchor of truth in correspondence and the primacy of existence comes through in her marginalia on truth, on propositions, on definitions and tautology, and on logical possibility (Mayhew 1995, 68–70, 75–80). Rand objected to shuffling the question “What is truth?” into “What are true propositions?”. She jotted: “Truth cannot be a matter of propositions, because it is a matter of context” (Mayhew 1995, 68). Like Aristotle’s, Rand’s is a substantial theory of truth. It pertains to the real, the cognitive agent, and the right relation between them. It declines linguistic stances as well as deconstructionist and relativistic stances towards truth. Aristotle’s writings “present truth in the context of a multifaceted account of knowledge that includes epistemological and psychological dimensions and in which truth directly pertains to issues of meaning, reference, intentionality, justification, and evidence . . .” (Pritzl 2010, 17). Rand can agree with Aristotle that being is the single constant context of truth. She can agree with Aristotle in holding truth to be not only saying of what is that it is, but saying of what is what it is (Metaphysics IX.10). However, she should deny Aristotle’s views that intellectual truth is an irreducible type of being and that “cognition is an identity of knower and known” (Pritzl 2010, 17). Rand’s has an integration element in her correspondence theory of truth (Peikoff 2012, 12–15). Integration is essential for truth in Rand’s theory. Fact is interconnected and multilayered in Rand's picture. Fact caught in mind will be truth, and truths will not be isolated in their facts nor in their relations to other truths. In Rand’s metaphysics, every existent stands in relationships to the rest of the universe. Every existent affects and is affected (ITOE 39). Rand does not go so far as the coherence theorist who would hold that relations to other things is what constitutes what something is. Concerning the historical roots of the integration element in Rand’s theory of truth, I think the main root is not the coherence views of absolute idealists, nor of Spinoza before them, but the views of Aristotle. “Truth is the product of the recognition (i.e., identification) of the facts of reality. . . . The truth or falsehood of [man’s] propositions rests, not only on their relation to the facts he asserts, but also on the truth or falsehood of the definitions of the concepts he uses to assert them, which rests on the truth or falsehood of his designations of essential characteristics.” (ITOE 48) Rand’s conception of the connectivity of facts for truth and her requirement of definitions designating essential characteristics for concepts in assertions are among the integration elements in Rand’s theory. Her theory is revised Aristotle. Aristotle wrote that "a definition is a phrase signifying a thing's essence" (Topics 101b37). Fundamentally, "the essence of each thing is what it is said to be in virtue of itself. For being you is not being musical; for you are not musical in virtue of yourself. What, then, you are in virtue of yourself is your essence" (Metaph. 1029b14-16). For Aristotle the essential predicates of a thing say what it is, what it is to be it. To say that man is musical does not say what man is. It says something truly of man, but it does not say what is man. Thus far, Rand concurs. "A definition must identify the nature of the units [subsumed under the concept being defined], i.e., the essential characteristics without which the units would not be the kind of existents they are" (ITOE 42). Moreover, the essential characteristic of a kind under a concept is "the fundamental characteristic without which the others would not be possible. . . . Metaphysically, a fundamental characteristic is that distinctive characteristic which makes the greatest number of others possible; epistemologically, it is the one that explains the greatest number of others" (ITOE 45). Aristotle held that all natural bodies are a composite of matter and form. He took form, rather than matter, to be what makes a thing the kind of thing it is. Essence is a form (Gill 2010, 120; Peikoff 1985; Witt 1989, 116–19; Bolton 2010, 40–46). Rand rejected this component of Aristotle’s metaphysics (ITOE Appendix, 286). "Aristotle held that definitions refer to metaphysical essences, which exist in concretes as a special element or formative power. . . . Aristotle regarded 'essence' as metaphysical; Objectivism regards it as epistemological" (ITOE 52). For Aristotle what makes gold gold or an animal cell an animal cell is a metaphysical essence, a metaphysical form. Metaphysical essential forms in Aristotle’s account are traditionally seen as universals; Charlotte Witt argues they are particulars (1989, chap. 5). In our modern view, the essence of the chemical element gold, that in virtue of which it is gold, is: having such-and-such numbers of protons and neutrons bound in a nucleus and the electrons about it. That is what makes its further distinctive properties possible. The essence of a living animal cell is that it offsets the potentially catastrophic drive of water inward through its wall by pumping sodium ions out through its wall. That is what makes possible its further distinctive properties (distinctive, say, from a living plant cell). These essences are physical. The essence of a human being—rational animality—is physical and mental. These are all essences in Rand's sense. They are physical or mental, but not metaphysical in the form-sense of Aristotle's essences. For Rand "an essential characteristic is factual, in the sense that it does exist, does determine other characteristics, and does distinguish a group of existents from all others; it is epistemological in the sense that the classification of 'essential characteristic' is a device of man's method of cognition" (ITOE 52). Proper essential characteristics in Rand’s theory of definitions required for truth use factual characteristics about a thing to state what it is. Aristotle, in contrast, did not take the essence of a thing to be one of its characteristics among others. He did not take it to be a characteristic of a thing. The form that is the essence of a thing, the form that makes it what it is, is prior in every way to the individual thing it makes possible (Witt 1989, 123–26). In Rand’s metaphysics, entity, not substance, is the primary existent. Though characteristics and relationships presuppose entities, an entity is nothing but its characteristics and relationships, for entities, like all existents, are nothing but identity. Rand’s realism of definition and essence reaches rock bottom of reality, while dropping some Aristotelian doctrines of substance, essence, and form. Rand contended that one must never form any convictions “apart from or against the total, integrated sum of one’s knowledge” (1961, 26). That integrated sum is one’s entire cognitive context, “the entire field of a mind’s awareness or knowledge” (ITOE 43). We have noted Rand’s statement “No concept man forms is valid unless he integrates it without contradiction into the sum total of his knowledge” (AS 1016). To the extent that his mind deals with valid concepts, “the content of his concepts is determined and dictated by the cognitive content of his mind, i.e., by his grasp of the facts of reality” (ITOE 43). It is not the integration that makes the content true, though the integration is necessary to truth, necessary to the grasp of fact. Peikoff writes “If one drops context, one drops the means of distinguishing between truth and fantasy” (OPAR 124). That is partly due to the nature of facts. The context of knowledge is the context of grasped fact, which is a context of fact. Facts have contexts, independently of our grasp of them (cf. OPAR 123). The contextual character of truth in an Objectivist account should be hands-on-world, rather as Rand’s essential characteristics of concepts are hand-on-world. Recall that in Rand’s theory of definition, the fundamental characteristic serving as the essential characteristic of a concept is both metaphysical and epistemological; it tells relations of dependency in the world and relations of explanation in the mind. The relations of context in the world will naturally include more than relations of dependency, and relations of context in the mind will include more than relations of explanation. My contention that the essential characteristic(s) of a concept, in Rand’s epistemology, is not only epistemological, but metaphysical, is consistent with Rand’s text saying that an essential characteristic is factual and does determine other characteristics, its being fundamental being a metaphysical fact. However, on the face of it, my contention contradicts Rand’s statement “Aristotle regarded ‘essence’ as metaphysical; Objectivism regards it as epistemological” (ITOE 52). In Rand’s view, “the metaphysical referent of man’s concepts is not a special, separate metaphysical essence, but the total of the facts of reality he has observed, and this total determines which characteristics of a given group of existents he designates as essential” (ITOE 52). She goes on immediately to say in what sense an essential characteristic is factual and in what sense it is epistemological. Rand is excluding from her concept of an essential characteristic the overblown sort of metaphysics Aristotle gives to essence, and she is introducing epistemological factors that bear on correct identification of an essential characteristic. She is not excluding metaphysics as a crucial, determining factor in the identification of essential characteristic(s). I concur with Rand. Essence as in her conception of an essential characteristic is not metaphysical in the full sense of the metaphysical that Aristotle gives to essence. However, in a less ponderous sense of the metaphysical, Randian essential characteristics are both metaphysical and epistemological. Rand requires a metaphysical basis for the designation of essential characteristics for our concepts of things. Furthermore, an essential characteristic should be not only a fact distinguishing a group of existents from all others within the present context of human knowledge; the essential characteristic of items under a concept should be additionally a fundamental one, the fundamental one on which the greatest number of the items’ other species-differentiating characteristics depend. This is metaphysical structure. Rand should agree with Aristotle that capability for learning grammar would be an improper distinction among animals for capturing the essence of that which is man (Top. 102a18–30; ITOE 49). This is due to facts of dependency. This is metaphysical structure. It would not do in Rand’s epistemology to follow Descartes in his idea that the primitive essence of matter is extension. That is a good distinguishing and logically necessary characteristic of matter (provided we take extension to stand for all aspects of spatiality). But it ignores the ontological primacy of entities among existents. And space is an existent. Concrete relationships are existents. A proper definition of matter must set it correctly in its relation of non-containment to consciousness (ITOE Appendix 247–50), and it must situate matter in relation to entities. Matter can be rightly defined in that second aspect partly by finding a fundamental distinctive commonality—say mass-energy—for all materials, but the standing of materials in relation to entities must also be captured in a proper definition of matter. There is much metaphysical structure in Randian definition according to essentials. Consider too a definition of solidity. I like to define it as a state of matter in which there is resistance to shearing stresses, or more exactly, in which there is an elastic zone of resistance to shearing stresses. This definition states physical relationships. It reflects metaphysical structure and physical structure within that metaphysical frame (assuming a proper concept matter). It reflects also context of cognition (and of potential vital action). That is to say, it reflects also the present state of knowledge of matter, an epistemological circumstance. Rand allows that with further understanding of matter I may have to expand my definition of solidity. Expanding “does not mean negating, abrogating or contradicting; it means demonstrating that some other characteristics are more distinctive” of solidity (ITOE 47). The qualification of a characteristic to be taken for essential continues to rest on the identities given to our consciousness so far—including relations of difference, similarity, and dependency—identities basing the economical scope of cognition and effective action we attain by rightly recognizing them. I have spoken of relations of context in the world and relations of context in the mind. The membership relation is one relation among contents of mind that is not that relation among the mind-independent, concrete objects corresponding to those contents. That is entailed when philosophers say with Aristotle that what-such depends on this-such, but not vice-versa, or when one says with Rand that only concretes exist in reality. The binding of membership relations to concrete factual relations, though necessarily not by complete identity with the latter relations, is surely a major impetus for integration in abstract knowledge and integration of abstract knowledge with experience. Rand’s cast of concept-class membership relations as analyzable in terms of suspension of particular values in mathematically scaled relations—relations that can express concrete magnitude relations in the world—is a grand structure for integration beyond non-contradiction. It makes the meaning of correspondence in “truth as correspondence with facts” more specific, and it accords with the success of science in improving correspondence by use of mathematics. References Aristotle c. 348–322 B.C. The Complete Works of Aristotle. J. Barnes, editor. 1983. Princeton. Berliner, M., editor, 2012. Understanding Objectivism, Leonard Peikoff’s Lectures. NAL. Blanshard, B. 1962. Reason and Analysis. Open Court. Bolton, R. 2010. Biology and Metaphysics in Aristotle. In Lennox and Bolton 2010. Branden, N. 2009. The Vision of Ayn Rand. Cobden. Gill, M. L. 2010. Unity of Definition in Metaphysics H.6 and Z.12. In Lennox and Bolton 2010. Hospers, J. 1953. An Introduction to Philosophical Analysis. Prentice-Hall. Lennox, J. G., and R. Bolton, editors, 2010. Being, Nature, and Life in Aristotle. Cambridge. Mayhew, R. 1995. Ayn Rand’s Marginalia. ARI. Peikoff, L. 1985. Aristotle’s “Intuitive Induction.” The New Scholasticism 59(2):185–99. ——. 1991. Objectivism: The Philosophy of Ayn Rand. Dutton. ——. 1992. The Art of Thinking. Lecture. ——. 2012. The DIM Hypothesis. NAL. Pritzl, K. 2010. Aristotle’s Door. In Truth – Studies of a Robust Presence. Catholic University of America. Rand, A. 1957. Atlas Shrugged. Random House. ——. 1961. The Objectivist Ethics. In The Virtue of Selfishness. 1964. Signet. ——. 1966–67. Introduction to Objectivist Epistemology. Expanded 2nd edition. 1990. Meridian. Witt, C. 1989. Substance and Essence in Aristotle. Cornell.
  6. IV. Moral Worth, Necessary and Free –B– In the Critique of Pure Reason (1781), Kant reasoned that if the causal connections lain out in time and space were sufficient to produce any of the phenomena there are, if every particular cause is itself necessitated by other causes, if even a human choice to rise from a chair is necessitated by antecedent causal conditions lain out in time and space; then there are no choices of humans free of necessitation by empirical inputs (KrV B473–80 A445–51, B560–86 A533–58). Then no choices of action by humans are truly originative. What if there are other conditions, ones transcending the empirical, phenomenal world that set its character, that can never be experienced in empirical, phenomenal ways, that form an ultimate opaque stopping ground of rational comprehension? What if the human being, an empirical being, dwells also in that empirically transcendent realm in all occasions of truly originative rational choices of actions, where these actions effect no results in contradiction of natural laws and where the root cause of these actions is not necessitated by empirical fact? (KrV B566–69 A538–41). What if the phenomenal causal determinism of we human causes is not so determinative that we never make truly originative choices of action, free of coercion by empirical factors? (KrV B562 A534). Then “the effects can be considered as free with regard to its intelligible cause, and yet with regard to appearances be considered simultaneously as resulting from these according to the necessity of nature” (KrV B565 A537). Then too, we cannot theoretically know we have such freedom nor even that such freedom is a real possibility. But we can conceive of such a freedom without contradiction of the natural order, and we can take such freedom as presupposition for all our moral operations (KrV B568 A540, B575–79 A547–51, B585–86 A557–58; KpV 5:54–57). From our modern perspective, sensitive to developments in physics and neuroscience of the last several decades, we should realize that Kant is mistaken about causal structure and necessity in the empirical, phenomenal world. Kant’s conception of the physical (and physiological) realm is overly deterministic. He presumes, as do many thinkers of his day and ours, that physical necessitation entails predetermination by past conditions however far into the past one might look. Complementing that error is another: he presumes that physical causal determinism implies in-principle predictability. “All actions of a human being are determined in appearance on the basis of his empirical character and the other contributing causes according to the order of nature; and if we could explore all appearances of his power of choice down to the bottom, there would not be a single human action that we could not with certainty predict and cognize as necessary from its preceding conditions” (KrV B577–78 A549–50). “But if we examine the same actions in reference to reason, . . . we find a rule and order quite different from the order of nature” (KrV B578 A550). “Reason is the permanent condition of all the voluntary actions under which the human being appears. Each of these actions, even before it occurs, is predetermined in the human being’s empirical character. But in regard to the intelligible character, of which the empirical character is only the sensible schema, no before or after holds, and every action—regardless of its time relation to other appearances—is the direct effect of the intelligible character of pure reason. Hence pure reason acts freely, i.e., without being dynamically determined in the chain of natural causes by external or internal bases that precede the action as regards time. And this freedom of pure reason can be regarded not only negatively, as independence from empirical conditions (for the power of reason would thus cease to be a cause of appearances {the manmade}). Rather, this freedom can be designated also positively, as a power of reason to begin on its own a series of events. Reason begins the series in such a way that nothing begins in reason itself, but that reason, as unconditioned condition of any voluntary action, permits no conditions above itself that precede the action as regards time—although reason’s effect does begin in the series of appearances, but in the series can never amount to an absolutely first beginning.” (KrV B581–82 A553–54) That is not so. That we can, in our symbolic, reflective and self-reflective consciousness, contemplate things and relations and possibilities outside the course of nature unfolding immediately before us and within us does not show that power of consciousness to be itself outside the temporal unfolding of nature. We have the freedom of thought and action we have entirely within the one and only world there is: the world of concretes, within which and over which our thought ranges. (On Kant’s theory of free will, see also Allison 1990, 11–82; Bird 2006, 689–718; Wood 2008, 123–41.) In the Prolegomena (1783), Kant again proffers his way of reconciling the (overly) deterministic conception of nature with human freedom: “The law of nature remains, whether the rational being be a cause of effects in the sensible world through reason and hence through freedom, or whether that being does not determine such effects through rational grounds. For if the first is the case, the action takes place according to maxims whose effect within appearance will always conform to constant laws; if the second is the case, and the action does not take place according to principles of reason, then it is subject to the empirical laws of sensibility, and in both cases the effects are connected according to constant laws . . . . In the first case, however, reason is the cause of these natural laws {adopted maxims} and is therefore free, in the second case the effects flow according to mere natural laws of sensibility, because reason exercises no influence on them; but, because of this, reason is not itself determined by sensibility (which is impossible), and it is therefore also free in this case. Therefore freedom does not impede the natural law of appearances, any more than this law interferes with the freedom of the practical use of reason, a use that stands in connection with things in themselves as determining grounds. / In this way practical freedom—namely, that freedom in which reason has causality in accordance with objective determining grounds—is rescued, without natural necessity suffering the least harm with respect to the very same effects, as appearances.” (P 4:345–46) Kant is using the concept natural laws in the broad sense of constancies or patterns that are necessary. Kant chased the relation of moral necessities to natural necessities across more than three decades, without a clear and stable settlement. There are practical laws having obligatory force reason cognizes as (not relatively, but) absolutely necessary (KrV B662 A634). In moral life, “there is an absolute necessity that something must occur, viz., that I comply in all points with the moral law” (KrV B856 A828). Having made these moral precepts my operating maxims, required by reason for fruitful operation of reason, these, “my moral principles, . . . I cannot renounce without being detestable in my own eyes” (KrV B856 A828). We saw in Part I that in Kant’s precritical “Inquiry” (1764) he thought moral necessity of an end must stem from something necessarily right in itself. In his mature, critical philosophy, he continued with that general doctrine. Our ends can be unfolded towards a “necessary unity of all possible purposes” (KrV B385 A328). This systematic unity of purposes is an ideal world, intelligible apart from the sensible world, in which there is an exact balance between happiness actual and happiness deserved by free, rational beings who have made themselves worthy of happiness (KrV B841 A813; 1793 8:278n). We know the necessity in moral obligation within ourselves (e.g. G 4:401; KpV 5:161–62; MS 6:216). The basis of that necessity is the concerted causal effectiveness of free, morally right action taken in a world in which everyone acted only morally, as if their actions “sprang from a supreme will comprising all private power of choice within itself” (KrV B838 A810). The basis of moral necessity is not natural causality alone, under which happiness does not necessarily follow from right action. For there to be a necessary connection between right action and hoped-for happiness, “a supreme reason that commands according to moral laws is also laid at the basis of nature, as nature’s cause” (KrV B838 A810). In the first edition of Critique of Pure Reason (1781), Kant had written: “Pure morality contains merely the moral laws of a free will as such; the doctrine of virtue examines these laws as impeded by the feelings, inclinations, and passions to which human beings are more or less subject” (KrV B79 A55). Kant had realized however that certain empirical concepts must be presupposed in thinking about the pure, a priori principles and concepts of morality. In the second edition (1787), coming after Groundwork, Kant enters the concept duty into an expanded articulation of the relation between concepts of empirical origin and the concepts and principles of pure morality. “Although the supreme principles and basic concepts of morality do not lay these empirical concepts themselves at the basis of their precepts, they must still bring in such pleasure and displeasure, desires and inclinations, etc., in [formulating] the concept of duty: viz., as an obstacle to be overcome, or as a stimulus that is {nevertheless} not to be turned into a motive” (KrV B29; see also MS 6:217). In 1783 Christian Garve published Philosophical Remarks and Essays on Cicero’s Books on Duties. Garve was influenced by Leibniz and Wolff, but he was influenced much more by Lockean empiricism. Garve published also that year an early critical review of Kant’s first Critique, objecting to Kant’s characterization of sensation and its relation to understanding, to his courting skepticism, to his undermining of common sense, and to his inversion of objects and subjective nature (53–77). Composition of Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals (1785) was influenced by Garve’s book on Cicero. Manfred Kuehn writes that publication of Garve’s book “brought home to Kant not only the importance of Cicero, but also his continuing effect on Kant’s German contemporaries” (2001, 278). Kant intended his little book to be accessible, like Cicero’s, to a wide audience. So it is. Like Kant and many other ethicists, Cicero had upheld an ethics based on reason and in opposition to impulse and hedonism. Kant needed to wrest Cicero’s key concept duty from the eudaimonistic setting given it by Cirero. He needed to reform the concept duty and trumpet it in his inaugural work devoted entirely to ethics, the Groundwork. Cicero had maintained that following duties is ultimately following the tendencies of human nature to self-preservation, to prevention of harm, to procreation, and to protection of offspring. Kant aimed to give duty a new meaning for a new rational ethical theory. I think Kant had in addition an even greater ambition for Groundwork. Not only did he aim to supersede Cicero and other eudaimonists, he aimed to offer an entire and entirely rational alternative to the ethics of Lutheran Christianity. Kant needed to craft a naturalistic ethics with basic moral force equal the commands of an all-wise supernatural God. That is not to say that what is proclaimed as virtuous or right action in Kant’s ethics are to be roundly at odds with what is proclaimed by Christianity of his day. A rational being can represent principles and by will conform her conduct to them. A moral necessity is one in which conformity is open to choice (G 4:413). Kant presumes that distinctly moral norms and choices are those affecting minded selves, affecting persons. Choices about the control and treatment of persons, one’s own person or another’s, are the distinctly moral choices. This is the presumed topic of moral principles and necessities. The most general moral laws, the most general objective practical laws, pertain to “the relation of a will to itself insofar as it determines itself only by reason” (G 4:427). Formulas of universally applicable moral commands of reason, Kant calls imperatives. The Kantian imperative of special interest for the present study is this one: “So act that you use humanity, whether in your own person or in the person of any other, always at the same time as an end, never merely as a means” (G 4:429; see also KpV 5:87). Here again we see Kant attaching moral necessity in ends to the idea of something that is an end in itself. At the same time, he attaches moral necessity to the purely formal, the non-empirical. Only in one’s reason, and apart from consideration of material incentives and means, is one able to determine oneself by objective moral motives towards objective moral ends. Kant thinks there is one thing, and really only one thing, “the existence of which in itself has an absolute worth, something which as an end in itself could be a ground of determinate laws,” by which he means universally applicable determinate moral laws (G 4:428). “I say the human being and in general every rational being exists as an end in itself, not merely as a means to be used by this or that will at its discretion” (G 4:428). At bedrock “rational nature exists as an end in itself” (G 428–29). It is true, I should say, that rational nature is a similitude of an end in itself. That comes about because rational nature is the living nature that is the overarching information and control system of the animal that is man. When Rand writes “I am, therefore I’ll think,” the existence of the thinking self is a living existence (AS 1058). In apprehending that one exists, one apprehends that one lives and that this, oneself, is an end in itself. We saw in Part 1 that, in his first Critique (1781), Kant had drawn an analogy between systematic organization by reason and organization of animate nature (KrV B860–61 A832–33; cf. B425). Kant knows that living things grow, that they are self-generating in individual development and in species reproduction, that they are self-preserving, and that in their essence they are purposive, or of-functions, in their structure and action (KU 366–71). He knows they are that way naturally, without artifice of intelligence. He does not see the natural purposive organizations that are organisms as ends in themselves. Life is not an end in itself. “Rational nature is distinguished from the rest of nature by this, that it sets itself an end” (G 4:437). An end that can be the end of a will that is unconditionally good would have to be not some particular end to be effected, but an independently existing end. This end “can be nothing other than the subject {rational agent} of all possible ends itself, because this subject is also the subject of a possible absolutely good will; for such a will cannot without contradiction be subordinated to any other object” (G 4:437). Only rational nature is an end in itself without further qualification. The internal purposive characteristic of organisms is a matter of objective fact, but for Kant it is an analogical objective fact. The anatomist and the embryologist are rewarded by proceeding under the general hypothesis that the parts and behaviors of organisms have specific functions analogous to our own conscious, rational purposes. Kant does not see it the other way around, the way Rand and many contemporary thinkers see it: conscious purpose is a species of natural animal behavior. This is one reason Kant would not see that life of the organism is an end in itself. That rational nature is the only real end in itself would make one think Kant would take rational nature as the ultimate end towards which all good ends should be directed. Kant addresses ultimate purposes in a more restricted sense, as “the purpose by reference to which all other natural things constitute a system of purposes” (KU 429). The contrast of nature is to freedom. In Kant’s sense, the ultimate end for humans is the end (presumed single) set by nature for humans. That cannot be happiness. What happiness amounts to is not something determinately set by our animal nature. Rather, happiness is an idea humans formulate for themselves, with great variety and changeability. Even if the concept of happiness were restricted “to the true natural needs shared by our species, . . . [man] would still never reach what he means by happiness, and reach what is in fact his own ultimate purpose, . . . for it is not his nature to stop possessing and enjoying at some point and be satisfied” (KU 431). Moreover, nature “is very far from having adopted him as its special darling, . . . but has in fact spared him no more than any other animal from its destructive workings. . . . In the chain of natural purposes, man is never more than a link” (KU 430). What nature has done for man, aside from constitution for the pursuit of happiness on earth, is to prepare him “for what he himself must do in order to be a final purpose” (KU 431). Final purpose is distinct from ultimate purpose in Kant’s fully developed ethics. Final purpose is “a purpose that requires no other purpose as a condition of its possibility” (KU 434). If man makes happiness “his whole purpose, it makes him unable to set a final purpose for his own existence and to harmonize with this final purpose” (KU 431). Yes, I say as Rand says: happiness alone is an inadequate standard to guide one’s actions for the purpose of achieving happiness. For us the standard is human life, but as we have seen, that candidate is on the field for Kant mainly in the shadow of happiness. Nature’s ultimate purpose with regard to man is giving him the “aptitude in general for setting himself purposes, and for using nature (independently of [the element of] nature in man’s determination of purposes) as a means [for achieving them] in conformity with the maxims of his free purposes generally. Producing in a rational being an aptitude for purposes generally (hence [in a way that leaves] that being free) is culture. Hence only culture can be the ultimate purpose that we have cause to attribute to nature with respect to the human species.” (KU 431) One might have wondered, at the end of Part II, why (in 1785) Kant had taken ever-higher development of reason and advancing culture to be something valuable in itself. In Critique of Judgment (KU 1790), Kant has set out somewhat more the way in which culture can be valuable—a sort of natural ultimate value—by its relation to the one true valuable end in itself, which is rational nature. The skills we acquire from culture are not all that is needed in order to have an aptitude to promote purposes generally. We require also our own directing will. Nature through culture liberates “the will from the despotism of desires, a despotism that rivets us to certain natural things and renders us unable to do our own selecting; we allow ourselves to be fettered by the impulses that nature gave us only as guides so that we would not neglect or even injure our animal characteristics, whereas in fact we are free enough to tighten or to slacken, to lengthen or to shorten them, as the purposes of reason require” (KU 432). As we have seen, Kant resisted the thought that happiness might not be one’s aim when direction of one’s purposes by will is slackened. Rand rightly held that human beings do not automatically desire happiness. More fundamentally, humans do not automatically desire to live; their directive will extends that widely. Kant would hold that were that indeed the case, then Rand’s standard of morality would be profoundly inadequate. In all of nature, according to Kant, it is only in man’s supersensible, noumenal nature that there is a purpose that is not conditioned on other purposes. Only in man’s existence as a moral agent, where moral legislation is not conditioned by any of the purposes in empirical nature, do we find a purpose not dependent on other purposes. That is unlike every purpose in empirical nature (KU 435–36; 1793, 8:279–80). Life could not be a final end, for it is conditional. It would not do as a standard for morality. Furthermore, if life is subject to continual choice by humans for its continuance, then human life is all the more conditioned and all the less suitable as a standard for morality. Requirements of morality conditioned by the clause “if you want to live,” would fail to have the objective necessity of themselves that Kant thought required of distinctly moral principles (G 4:414). (For more on Kant’s conception of life, see Ginsborg 2001, 246–54; Zammito 2007, 54–56, 67n13; Huneman 2007a, 86–92; Richards 2002, 229–37.) That conception of moral necessity was wrongly tuned (cf. Rand 1974). The conditionality of life and the circumstance that human life is open to choice has the structure of necessity right for morality. The absoluteness of life or death is the absoluteness of moral necessity. That one freely chooses life, originates life, in thought and action respecting its requirements and opportunities—this is one’s moral glory. References Allison, H. E. 1990. Kant’s Theory of Freedom. Cambridge. Bird, G. 2006. The Revolutionary Kant – A Commentary on the Critique of Pure Reason. Open Court. Garve, C. 1783. Review of Critique of Pure Reason. In Kant’s Early Critics. B. Sassen, editor and translator. 2000. Cambridge. Ginsborg, H. 2001. Kant on Understanding Organisms as Natural Purposes. In Kant and the Sciences. E. Watkins, editor. Oxford. Gregor, M. J., editor and translator, 1996. Immanuel Kant – Practical Philosophy. Cambridge. Huneman, P. 2007a. Reflexive Judgment and Wolffian Embology: Kant’s Shift between the First and the Third Critiques. In Huneman 2007b. ——., editor, 2007b. Understanding Purpose – Kant and the Philosophy of Biology. Rochester. Kant, I. 1764. Inquiry Concerning the Distinctness of the Principles of Natural Theology and Morality. In Immanuel Kant – Theoretical Philosophy 1755–1770. P. Walford, editor and translator. Cambridge. ——. 1781, 1787. Critique of Pure Reason. W. S. Pluhar, translator. Hackett. ——. 1783. Prolegomena to any Future Metaphysics that Will Be Able to Come Forward as Science. In Immanuel Kant – Theoretical Philosophy after 1781. H. Allison and P. Heath, editors. G. Hatfield, translator. Cambridge. ——. 1785. Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals. In Gregor 1996. ——. 1788. Critique of Practical Reason. In Gregor 1996. ——. 1790. Critique of Judgment. W. S. Pluhar, translator. Hackett. ——. 1793. On the Common Saying: That May Be Correct in Theory, but It Is of No Use in Practice. In Gregor 1996. ——. 1797. The Metaphysics of Morals. In Gregor 1996. Kuehn, M. 2001. Kant – A Biography. Cambridge. Rand, A. 1957. Atlas Shrugged. Random House. ——. 1974. Causality versus Duty. In Philosophy: Who Needs It. 1982. Signet. Richards, R. J. 2002. The Romantic Conception of Life. Chicago. Wood, A. W. 2008. Kantian Ethics. Cambridge. Zammito, J. H. 2007. Kant’s Persistent Ambivalence toward Epigenesis 1764–90. In Huneman 2007b.
  7. IV – Moral Worth, Necessary and Free –A– Many are moved to right beneficent acts, not by motives such as vanity or self-interest, but simply because “they find an inner satisfaction in spreading joy around them and can take delight in the satisfaction of others so far as it is their own work” (G 4:398). Such beneficent acts “deserve praise and encouragement but not esteem” (G 4:398). Such beneficence flows from inclination, and though this action on inclination is praiseworthy, it is not action meriting our esteem if it is performed without being motivated by its moral rightness. These views are from Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals (G 1785). Suppose another man were in the same position to render assistance in the very same situation. But suppose this man “is by temperament cold and indifferent to the sufferings of others, perhaps because he himself is provided with a special gift of patience and endurance towards his own sufferings and presupposes the same in every other or even requires it; if nature had not properly fashioned such a man . . . for a philanthropist, would he not still find within himself a source from which to give himself a far higher worth than what a mere good-natured temperament might have?” (G 4:398). Why, Yes. The man with little sympathy in his heart has a will. Taking beneficence in the circumstance to be a matter of moral law, he might render assistance for the sake of the law, from respect for moral law (G 4:398, 390; see further, Herman 1993, 1–22; Allison 1990, 107–20). In The Metaphysics of Morals (MS 1797), Kant remarks that nature has given humans a receptivity to the feeling of sympathetic joy and sadness. This is compassion, and there is an indirect duty to cultivate compassionate feelings in oneself. The feeling of compassion is conducive to the free will of practical reason to share in other’s feelings. There is a direct duty of active, rational benevolence towards those worthy of happiness (MS 6:457). Somewhat like the Stoics before him and Rand after him, Kant distinguishes compassion from pity and says the latter “has no place in people’s relations with one another” (MS 6:457). Morality is more than good inclinations and their rational coordination. From Critique of Practical Reason (KpV 1788): “An inclination to what conforms to duty (e.g., to beneficence) can indeed greatly facilitate the effectiveness of moral maxims but cannot produce any. For in these {moral maxims} everything must be directed to the representation of the law as determining ground if the action is to contain not merely legality by also morality. Inclination is blind and servile, whether it is kindly or not; and when morality is in question, reason must not play the part of mere guardian to inclination but, disregarding it altogether, must attend solely to its own interest as pure practical reason.” (KpV 5:118; see also KpV 5:71–72 and 1793 6:4n) As with sympathy, so with one’s own happiness. “People have already of themselves, the strongest and deepest inclination to happiness because it is just in this idea that all inclinations unite in a sum” (G 4:399). There is an indirect duty to assure one’s own happiness, for “want of satisfaction with one’s condition, under pressure from many anxieties and amid unsatisfied needs, could easily become a great temptation to transgression of duty” (G 4:399; also KpV 5:93). There is, however, no direct duty to pursue one’s own happiness. Rather, there is the direct duty to pursue one’s own perfection. It would be a contradiction to say one had an obligation to pursue something one does automatically, specifically, pursue one’s own happiness (MS 6:386; KpV 5:37; G 4:415). It seems Kant is here in some contradiction with his talk of the suffering man (in G 4:398) who has lost the taste for life. Rand writes truly “man’s desire to live is not automatic” (AS 1013). Kant’s premise to the contrary is false, and his little case here against a direct duty to happiness would weigh also against an indirect duty to happiness, which he upholds. Concerning others, it is Kant’s view that one has a direct duty to be concerned for their happiness. But “it is a contradiction for me to make another’s perfection my end and consider myself under obligation to promote this. For the perfection of another human being, as a person, consists just in this: that he himself is able to set his end in accordance with his own concepts of duty; and it is self-contradictory to require that I do (make it my duty to do) something that only the other himself can do” (MS 6:386). Making someone happy, of course, “is quite different from making him good” (G 4:442). The perfection one has a duty to pursue in oneself is the perfection belonging to a human being as such. Specifically, the duty to self-perfection entails duties to cultivate one’s natural faculties, especially understanding, and to cultivate one’s will such that moral law becomes the incentive to one’s actions. This self-perfection is a species of the teleological perfection of living things in general: “the harmony of a thing’s properties with an end” (MS 6:386). The duty to self-perfection is a duty commanded absolutely by morally practical reason so that the individual “may be worthy of the humanity that dwells within him” (MS 6:387). The virtue of self-perfection in Rand’s ethics derives from the nature and value of human life. It needs to be recognized “that of any of the achievements open to you, the one that makes all others possible is the creation of your own character. . . [that man] must acquire the values of character that make his life worth sustaining . . . that to live requires a sense of self-value, but man, who has no automatic values, has no automatic sense of self-esteem and must earn it by shaping his soul in the image of his moral ideal, in the image of Man, the rational being he is born able to create, but must create by choice—that the first precondition of self-esteem is that radiant selfishness of soul which desires the best in all things, in values of matter and spirit, a soul that seeks above all else to achieve its own moral perfection . . . .” (AS 1020–21) In Kant’s analysis, respect is a moral feeling, where now, in his mature ethical theory, moral feeling is not elementary as with the moral-sense theorists, but derives from the intellectual activity of setting aside sensory feelings and self-love for the sake of conforming to moral law in action. This free intellectual redirection is an infringement on self-love, the latter being prior to moral law in us. The resulting moral person has rational self-love (KpV 5:72–76). Respect is not something one can have towards objects of one’s actions as objects nor towards one’s inclinations towards those objects. “Only what is connected with my will merely as ground and never as effect, what does not serve my inclination but outweighs it or at least excludes it altogether from calculations in making a choice—hence the mere law for itself—can be an object of respect and so a command” (G 4:00). It is in the will of a rational being that “the highest and unconditional good alone can be found. Hence nothing other than the representation of the law, insofar as it and not the hoped-for effect is the determining ground of the will, can constitute the preeminent good we call moral . . .” (G 4:401). Reason tells us that the commands of duty deserve the highest respect. In each individual, there is a powerful counterweight to the command of duty: “his needs and inclinations, the entire satisfaction of which he sums up under the name happiness. Now reason issues its precepts unremittingly, without thereby promising anything to the inclinations, and so, as it were, with disregard and contempt for those claims . . . [which] refuse to be neutralized by any command” (G 4:405). One’s own happiness and the demands of morality are perpetually at odds, in Kant’s conception. Kant thinks that “respect is always directed only to persons, never to things” (KpV 5:76). Behind our respect for persons is consciousness of moral duties they occasion (KpV 5:76–81). Not only can we respect ourselves and other persons, we can love ourselves and others, we can promote the well-being and happiness of ourselves and others. That we will love ourselves and try to win our own happiness is entirely dependable. There is also a dependable natural satisfaction we have in the well-being of others. But there is no need in everyone, such as a sympathetic sensibility, such that as long as one remains a rational being, one is impelled to promote the well-being of others (KpV 5:35). If I will limit my prudential maxim to pursue my own happiness, my maxim based on inclination, so as to include in it concern for the happiness of others; then my prudential maxim can become an objective, moral maxim, as “obligation to extend my self-love to the happiness of others as well” (KpV 5:35). The feature of obligation derives, however, not from the satisfaction we take in the well-being of others—though their well-being is the object, or matter, of our volition—rather from the form of a maxim of self-love made suitable for universal application by enfolding the happiness of others within it (KpV 5:35; see further, Wood 2008, 34–38, 175-81; Beiser 1987, 190–91; Herman 1993, 45–72; Sherman 1997, 129–30, 141–58). “Duty is the necessity of an action from respect for law” (G 4:400). What is the source and nature of this necessity and this law? The term duty (Pflict) appears a few times in the first edition of the Critique of Pure Reason (KrV 1781), and all its uses there are ordinary, without a philosophic role distinctive to Kant’s philosophy. In the second edition (1787), the term is added in two places (KrV Bxxxii and B29, including translator’s note 290) in its pivotal role in Kant’s mature ethics: as the moral tension pulling action out of direction by inclination. (Cf. “Thou shalt have no other gods before me.”) It is from this general opposition that consciousness of freedom of rational will arises (KrV Bxxxii–iii; MS 6:380n, 387–88). The terms obligation or obligate (Obliegenheit, Verbindlichkeit, verbinden) appear several times in the first edition. Most are in connection with epistemological obligations. Five of the uses are in claims about moral obligations (KrV B507 A477, B617 A589, B662 A634, B838 A810, B839 A811). They speak about obligations to follow moral precepts, obligations as issuing from moral law, and obligations as being impositions. In no case is obligation used in the special role for which Kant adopts duty in his additions to the second edition: as the moral pull in free reason against direction of action by inclinations. That specific concept duty had been announced and set in its central place, for Kant’s ethics, in Groundwork, which was between the two editions of the first Critique. The emergence of this concept in Kant’s ethics signals perhaps a further development in his thought about the subject. More surely, it amounts to a shift in his strategy of presentation. (To be continued.) References Allison, H. E. 1990. Kant’s Theory of Freedom. Cambridge. Gregor, M. J., editor and translator, 1996. Immanuel Kant – Practical Philosophy. Cambridge. Herman, B. 1993. The Practice of Moral Judgment. Harvard. Kant, I. 1781, 1787. Critique of Pure Reason. W. S. Pluhar, translator. Hackett. ——. 1785. Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals. In Gregor 1996. ——. 1788. Critique of Practical Reason. In Gregor 1996. ——. 1793. Religion within the Boundaries of Mere Reason. In Immanuel Kant – Religion and Rational Theology. A. W. Wood, editor. G. Giovanni, translator. Cambridge. ——. 1797. The Metaphysics of Morals. In Gregor 1996. Rand, A. 1957. Atlas Shrugged. Random House. Sherman, N. 1997. Making a Necessity of Virtue – Aristotle and Kant on Virtue. Cambridge. Wood, A. W. 2008. Kantian Ethics. Cambridge.
  8. III. Into 1785 In Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals (1785), Kant tells us that ethics should be conceived as determination of what constitutes a good character, in particular a good will. To be a good person is to have a good will. The sight of someone who is continuously prosperous, but is “graced with no feature of a pure and good will,” does not delight us. Having a good will “seems to constitute the indispensable condition even of worthiness to be happy” (4:393). Rand gives one of her protagonists in Atlas Shrugged these lines: “To trade by means of money is the code of the men of good will. Money rests on the axiom that every man is the owner of his own mind and his effort” (AS 411). “Money will not purchase happiness for the man who has no concept of what he wants: money will not give him a code of values, if he’s evaded the knowledge of what to value, and it will not provide him with a purpose, if he’s evaded the choice of what to seek” (AS 411). Prosperity in the absence of the moral virtues of rationality and purpose in ones values would not engender a sense of being worthy of happiness, and for that matter, it would not make for happiness. The general distinctively moral purpose of anyone’s life is his own happiness, in Rand’s view. “The achievement of your happiness is the only moral purpose of your life, and . . . happiness . . . is the proof of your moral integrity, since it is the proof and the result of your loyalty to the achievement of your values” (AS 1059). Rand writes of men of good will. Where does she locate a good will in morality? The text on money maintains that with a good will a person will respect the sovereignty of other persons’ minds over their values and labors. Having a good will of this kind and to this extent is not morally singular; it is a moral requirement for anyone. Results and marks of failing to have this minimal level of good will would be, for example, takings by force or fraud (AS 1019, 1022–23). Restricting one’s takings to the consensual is an occasion of a minimally good will respecting the minimally good will of others. Then too, with this type and level of good will, one treats others as ends in themselves. “Just as life is an end in itself, so every living human being is an end in himself, not the means to the ends or the welfare of others” (OE 27). The moral person set on his own happiness does not take his pleasure to be the proper goal of the lives of others nor does he take the pleasure of others to be the proper goal of the life that is his (AS 1022). One of good will, however, will find personal pleasure in seeing the value efforts of others (AS 1060). There are “no victims and no conflicts of interest” necessary among moral, rational people (AS 1022). Each can craft his values and desires, while respecting the circumstance that “by the grace of reality and the nature of life, man—every man—is an end in himself.” (AS 1014). There is a lovely harmonious world, a “kingdom of perfection,” in one’s soul and society (AS 1058, 1068). Good will towards others, in Rand’s view, is only part of human good will. More generally and more deeply, “every act of a man’s life has to be willed” (AS 1057), and the basic act of human will is the choice to think, to focus, or not. The fundamental human question, “the question ‘to be or not to be’ is the question ‘to think or not to think’” (AS 1012). To choose living and thinking is a basic free choice within which all others are arranged. Choosing living and thinking is good choosing, good willing (AS 1017–18). In Kant’s view, a good will is a fitness to attain various ends, but it does not derive its goodness from those ends. Rather, regarded by itself, it is good in itself. It is “to be valued incomparably higher than all that could be merely brought about by it in favor of some inclination and indeed, if you will, of the sum of all inclinations” (4:394). If unfavorable circumstances prevent attainment of one’s ends, in spite of one’s greatest efforts, with a good will, then “like a jewel, {the good will} would still shine by itself, as something that has its full worth in itself” (4:394). Kant puts together a little argument to show that the goodness of a good will does not derive from the ends of preservation or welfare of one’s life. Nor from the end of happiness. If those were the proper ends of a creature with reason and will, what a poor arrangement nature has hit upon for their accomplishment. For those ends, actions would be better marked out more reliably by instinct than by reason. Notice too that people who are highly cultivated in reason dedicated to the enjoyment of life and happiness do not find true satisfaction, but bring trouble upon themselves and multiplication of their needs. Often they end up with some envy of “the common run of people, who are closer to the guidance of mere natural instinct and do not allow their reason much influence on their behavior” (4:395–96). That is not to say that Kant, champion of the Enlightenment, urges a return to the primitive. The upshot is this: There is another, far worthier purpose of one’s existence to which “reason is properly destined, and to which, as supreme condition, the private purpose of the human being must for the most part defer” (4:396). In Rand’s ethics, a good will, a good character, is necessary for preservation of human life and achievement of happiness. However, in contrast to Kant’s conception, moral goodness is for the purpose of prospering life and happiness. A good character does indeed have its solitary reward of pride, but the value of a good will derives from the value of human life. Happiness is “complete well-being and satisfaction with one’s life” (4:393). It is the unified purpose of all the purposes we undertake according to natural inclinations (B828 A800), “the sum of satisfaction of all inclinations” (4:399). Kant is cognizant of the connection, made by Greek ethicists, between happiness and physical health. He argues that because of the broad compass of this general concept of happiness and the tenuousness of the link between happiness and health, happiness is feeble as a moral precept. One might act on a present inclination, even though it is against health, unsure that the happiness won by health would be greater than the happiness won by satisfying the present inclination (4:399; see further 4:417–19). What does not catch Kant’s eye is that health might be a clearer and firmer standard of morality than happiness and that a concept of happiness might be sensitively conformed to the concept of health. He does not see that health—better yet, human life—could be the source of moral obligation, a standard to look to through present inclination and through which to see present inclination. What is wrong with Kant’s argument that if the function of reason and a good will were only to attain life and happiness, we should have been equipped with unerring instinct for such ends, rather than with deliberative reason? This thought supposes that the extensive creative survival behaviors of humans and the wide range of human ways of living could be attained with only instinct and obligatory, non-symbolic animal communication. Herder was right in denying such a possibility. Human life requires language and the reflective awareness that makes it possible. Kant’s second argument at 4:395–96 was that people more highly cultivated in reason, pursuing only life and happiness, often end up dissatisfied and envious of less cultured folk who are less reflective and closer to being guided by instincts. This circumstance, supposing it true, is to be taken as evidence that the function of developed reason does not lie ultimately in its service to life and happiness. This argument is fallacious, for it trades on an ambiguity in the term instinct. That some people are guided more by feelings than by deliberative reason does not show they have any more instinct than sophisticated people have, where instinct is taken unambiguously as inborn biologically fixed skill. Rand gets it right. When it comes to the human animal, “a sensation of hunger will tell him that he needs food, . . . but it will not tell him how to obtain his food. . . . He cannot provide for his simplest physical needs without a process of thought” (OE 21). More generally, “a desire is not an instinct” (AS 1013), and a feeling will not tell one how to hunt, farm, or cook (AS 1036, F 737). Kant’s second argument, like his first, does nothing to show that the ultimate function of reason and a good will cannot be to attain life and happiness. Kant flirts with this current of argument again, in 1788, in his Critique of Practical Reason. He writes: “Certainly, our well-being and woe count for a very great deal in the appraisal of our practical reason and, as far as our nature as sensible beings is concerned, all that counts is our happiness if this is appraised, as reason especially requires, not in terms of transitory feeling but of the influence this contingency has on our whole existence and our satisfaction with it; but happiness is not the only thing that counts. The human being is a being with needs, insofar as he belongs to the sensible world, and to this extent his reason certainly has a commission from the side of his sensibility which it cannot refuse, to attend to its interest and to form practical maxims with a view to happiness in this life and, where possible, in a future life as well. But he is nevertheless not so completely an animal as to be indifferent to all that reason says on its own and to use reason merely as a tool for the satisfaction of his needs as a sensible being. For that he has reason does not at all raise him in worth above mere animality if reason is to serve him only for the sake of what instinct accomplishes for animals; reason would in that case be only a particular mode nature used to equip the human being for the same end to which it has destined animals, without destining him to a higher end. No doubt once this arrangement of nature has been made of him he needs reason in order to take into consideration at all times his well-being and woe; but besides this he has it for a higher purpose: namely, not only to reflect upon what is good or evil in itself as well—but also to distinguish the latter appraisal altogether from the former and to make it the supreme condition of the former.” (5:61–62) It is false to say reason cannot have as its continual and ultimate purpose the attainment of life, and at the same time have its own further purposes that are auxiliary and highly removed from the daily struggle for existence and happiness. Not only can reason make a dinner, it can set the table in a beautiful way. It is also mistaken to think that seeing reason’s main function as for survival of the human animal fails to capture the vast leap of our species beyond the other animals. The “higher ends” of reason that Kant has in mind are not removed from the daily struggle for existence and happiness, of course, for he is here thinking of one’s moral ends. Establishment that there are such ends not identical with the ends of life and happiness is not accomplished by Kant’s argument here. In Kant’s view, it is good to preserve one’s life, good to be socially adept and beneficent, and good to assure one’s own happiness. But any moral goodness or inner worth to be found in these efforts—and in all other harmonious, beneficial efforts—arises from their being done from a sense of duty. For striking example: “If adversity and hopeless grief have quite taken away the taste for life; if an unfortunate man, strong of soul and more indignant about his fate than despondent or dejected, wishes for death and yet preserves his life without loving it, not from inclination or fear but from duty, then his maxim [preserve one’s life] has moral content” (4:398). Contrary to Kant, I say that such a resolve in such a circumstance is morally virtuous so far as the unfortunate man continues to commune with the goodness that is life, however slender has become the possibility for his further original enjoyments. Kant will not have the pursuit of life, nor pursuit of any other object, be the source, purpose, or standard of moral virtue or obligation (5:64). Before digging into Kant’s reasons for standing moral by standing off from life and happiness, I want to point to two precursors of Kant’s mature ideas about ethics in his early education: one from Luther, one from Cicero. In his early formal education at Königsberg’s Collegium Fredericianum (from age 8 to 16), Kant would have memorized Luther’s Small Catechism and studied the Large. He would know Luther’s explication of the First Commandment. In the Lutheran doctrine, God is the source of goodness in the world. Every good in the world—health, wealth, and family—are gifts from God. Every right gift one might give to another or receive from another, must be seen as a gift from God. It is more than a pleasing coincidence that the words Gott and Güte are so similar. God commands that one’s heart and mind be set first and foremost on God. He will bring good things, temporal and eternal, to people who follow this commandment, and he will bring woe to people who put other goods in first place, higher than God. To keep the true God in first place, one must have the right heart and head, the right faith. In his secular construction of morality, Kant would give to good will the role Luther had given to right faith. Kant wants to keep with individual necessary reward and penalty for individual condition of will, and he thinks he can find this necessary connection right here in the constitution of human will and reason. Beyond the sure sanctions for a good will is the hope of happiness in this life and hereafter. At Collegium Fredericianum, Kant had excelled in Latin. Among the Latin works he read there was Cicero’s On Duties (De Officiis). Cicero sees virtue in terms of duty. It is no controversy to say, as anyone should, that moral virtue is a performance of or disposition towards what one ought to do. But when a philosopher such as Cicero or Kant undertakes to cast all occasions of doing the morally right thing as performances of duties, he is giving a systematic and controversial slant to the entire moral plane. Duties are various things owed, usually in various social relationships. In all things, Cicero is on the lookout for bearings on duties. “No part of life, neither public affairs nor private, neither in the forum nor at home, neither when acting on your own nor in dealings with another, can be free from duty. Everything that is honorable in a life depends upon its cultivation, and everything dishonorable upon its neglect” (O 1.4). Duties are things owed. I think that to reduce the idea of what ought to be done to what is owed is an impoverishment of the idea. A truer way of moral life is to perceive and nurture value. Let value and valuation bring forth virtues and things owed. Kant’s ethics, like Cicero’s, is an ethics of duty. For Cicero the source of duties is honorableness, which is in contrast to personal advantage. “There are some teachings that undermine all duty by the ends of good and evil things that they propound. The man who defines the highest good in such a way that it has no connection with virtue, measuring it by his own advantages rather than by honorableness, cannot . . . cultivate either friendship or justice or liberality. There can certainly be no brave man who judges that pain is the greatest evil, nor a man of restraint who defines pleasure as the highest good” (O 1.5). As the source of duties, Kant will replace honorableness with the nature of pure reason and a good will. That replacement understood, the following formula of Cicero will agree with Kant. Ethical systems in which the highest good is personal advantage “say nothing about duty; nor can any advice on duty that is steady, stable, and joined to nature be handed down except by those who believe that what is sought for its own sake is honorableness alone . . .” (O 1.6). (To be continued.) References Cicero, M.T. 44 B.C. On Duties. E.M. Atkins, editor and translator. 1991. Cambridge. Gregor, M., editor and translator. 1996. Immanuel Kant – Practical Philosophy. Cambridge. Kant, I. 1785. Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals. In Gregor 1996. ——. 1788. Critique of Practical Reason. In Gregor 1996. Rand, A. 1943. The Fountainhead (F). Bobbs-Merrill. ——. 1957. Atlas Shrugged (AS). Random House. ——. 1961. The Objectivist Ethics (OE). In The Virtue of Selfishness. 1964. Signet.
  9. II. Towards 1785 In the years 1762–64, Johann Gottfried Herder had been a student of Kant’s at the University of Königsberg. Herder went on to become a clergyman, a renowned author, and Superintendent of Lutheran clergy in Weimar. He was leading opponent of the Enlightenment (e.g. Herder 1774). He was significantly under the influence of Rousseau; puffing up the goodness and happiness of primitive peoples; portraying the philosophies he had seen in school as pretentious and damaging to the natural goodness already in one’s soul. Opposition to the Enlightenment set Herder against Kant’s philosophy in both its Precritical and Critical phases. Herder was doubly opposed to Kant’s mature, Critical philosophy (Herder 1799; cf. Peikoff 1982, 44), and Kant was uniformly opposed to the attempts at philosophy by his former student (Kant 1785; Beiser 1987, 149–53; Kuehn 2001, 292–301). However often he reiterated that his philosophizing was to protect folks from philosophy, Herder’s works show that he was powerfully drawn to philosophy of nature, especially human nature. Shortly after finishing university, Herder writes that his own philosophical approach would be to “dissect the subjective concept of thought and the objective concept of truth, . . . [to] unfold them, and by means of an extensive analysis of the concept, so to speak, seek the origin of all truth and science in my soul” (1765, 10). He would aim for a logic that comprehended not only intelligence, but imagination and sensation. Logic should preserve “the human spirit its natural strength in full vivacity” (11). The best Herder sees a moralist can do for a person, in a practical way, is not to “preach virtue to his understanding, but preach to his conscience the virtue which he understands, . . . [by this,] merely lend a hand to nature. On the ground of his conscience, the whole field already sleeps, . . . wake it up” (24). Curiosity is a drive in the human soul, but “a drive composed from self-preservation and self-defense” (16). Beyond defense, taking the offensive, curiosity is a refined artificial drive aiming at pleasure. The drive to extend our ideas is not the first main law of the soul. The drive for extending ideas is taken as first principle by study-philosophers, but they are mistaken, and within each such philosopher, there dwells yet a human being with deeper drives and truer, healthier understanding (16–22; see also 1772, 134–35). In his famous Treatise on the Origin of Language (1772), Herder observes “that the human being is far inferior to the animals in strength and sureness of instinct, indeed that he quite lacks what in the case of so many animal species we call innate abilities for and drive to art” (77–78). To understand rightly the drives to art of animals, and thereby to better see the nature of the human soul, Herder takes the perspective of what he calls “the sphere of animals.” Each animal has a circle distinctive of its kind, a distinctive extent “of their movements, elements, nutrition, preservation, reproduction, upbringing, society,” as well as distinctive “drives and arts” (78). The size and diversity within an animal’s circle are in inverse proportion to the drives and arts of the animal’s kind. The bee and the spider are artful builders, and their two circles of life are small. However large the circle for any animal, the world beyond its circle is as nothing to the animal. The forces of representation and communication are adequate to the animal’s destiny in its circle of efficacy. The living mechanism tightly ruling their artful behaviors and communications is called instinct (79). Animals with larger circle have more numerous functions and have to attend to a greater number of objects. “The less constant their manner of life is, . . . the larger and more diverse their sphere is {and} the more we see their sensuousness distribute itself and weaken” (78). Attention and behavior are less rigidly bound for animals with a larger circle of existence. The sphere of the human being is wide, and far from uniform. “A world of occupations and destinies surrounds him” (79). “His senses and organization are not sharpened for a single thing; he has some senses for everything and hence naturally for each particular thing weaker and duller senses. / “His forces of soul are distributed over the world; {there is} no direction of his representation on a single thing; hence no drive to art, no skill for art, and . . . no animal language.” (79) Animal language is wholly inadequate for the human being’s circle of efficacy. Animal language “is an expression of such strong sensuous representations that they become drives. Hence, {animal} language is innate and immediately natural for the animal. . . . How does the human speak by {such a} nature? Not at all!—just as he does little or nothing through sheer instinct as an animal” (80). Enormous is the circle of efficacy of human beings. For spanning the gulf between his needs and prospects, on the one hand, and his lack of instinct and animal language, on the other, there is a gift of nature “as essential to him as instinct is to the animals” (81). This substitute for instinct is “the true orientation of humanity” (81). Thought, reason, and human language are the natural gifts essential to human beings. “The human being has no single work, . . . but he has free space to practice in many things and hence to improve himself constantly. Each thought is not an immediate work of nature, but precisely because of this, it can become his own work” (82). If for humans instinct must disappear, “then precisely thereby the human being receives ‘more clarity’. Since he does not fall blindly on one point and remain laying there blindly, he becomes free-standing, can seek for himself a sphere for self-mirroring, can mirror himself within himself. No longer an infallible machine in the hands of nature, he becomes his own end and goal of refinement” (82). “The rationality of the human being, the character of his species, is . . . ‘the total determination of his thinking force in relation to his sensuality and drives’” (84). It is their natural reflective awareness that allows humans to invent and acquire human language. “The human being demonstrates reflection when the force of his soul operates so freely that in the whole ocean of sensations which floods the soul through all the senses, it can, so to speak, separate off, stop, and pay attention to a single wave, and be conscious of its own attentiveness. The human being demonstrates reflection when, out of the whole hovering dream of images which proceed before his senses, he can collect himself in a moment of alertness, freely dwell on a single image, pay it clear, more leisurely heed, and separate off characteristic marks for the fact that this is that object and no other. Thus he demonstrates reflection when he can not only recognize all the properties in a vivid or clear way, but his own mind acknowledge one or several as distinguishing properties. The first act of this acknowledgment provides a distinct concept; it is the first judgment of the sou.l” (87–88) Herder did not accept the sharp division between the faculty of intelligence and the faculty of sense that Kant had proclaimed in 1770 and had elaborately maintained in 1781 and thereafter. In the best human beings of the past, according to Herder, “cognition and sensation flowed together for human life, for action, for happiness” (1778, 226). Cognition and sensation are living (243). The body is a living machine. Its life is a harmonious rhythm of activity “in perpetual effort and recuperation, right down to the subtlest instruments of sensations and thoughts” (191). The activities of everything in the body are ordered together by a single life force. The human soul is not an existent independent of the living body (193). There is a living formative force in nature, seen in Haller’s research on muscle contraction; seen in tropisms and reproduction by plants; seen in the unification of sensations received by the heart into a single pulse; and seen in the head’s “power to bring sensations which flow through its body into a single representation, and to guide the former through the latter” (194; see further, 205–6). ‘The soul cognizes that it senses” (208). It cognizes nothing purely out of itself (209). Cognition is not only a striving, but a having and a feeling of having. There is no cognition without volition, and there is no volition without cognition (213). Conscience, or moral feeling, is not at odds with cognition (214). “True cognition and good volition are just one sort of thing, a single force and efficacy of the soul” (215). Volition is “from and full of human sensation” (213). The noble standard according to which we cognize and act is humanity. The living expansion and contraction of our will is expressed in self-feeling and other-feeling. “Loving is the noblest cognition, as it is the noblest sensation” (214). Loving is feeling, in a human way. Virtue is loving, the sure pull towards other human beings and towards “the great Creator in oneself” (214). The moral end of human being is to be the intelligent sensorium of God, awake to “everything living in creation in proportion as it is related to him,” the human being (214). “Everything feels itself and creatures of its kind, life flows to life” (214). Our human self-feeling is fixed point for our ends, but not our end. Loving ourselves is necessary means to the noble end of loving our neighbor. “If we are disloyal to ourselves, how will we be loyal to others? In the degree of the depth of our self-feeling lies the degree of our other-feeling for others, for it is only ourselves that we can, so to speak, feel into others” (214). Herder knows that human loving is not possible without a living body; so value is not possible apart from life. He knows a lot about human beings, I would say. He does not know that the order of inanimate nature and living nature obtains without divine craftsmanship and love. He does not know that life is conceptually prior to knowing and loving and that human life is the first and last word of meaning and value. Kant rightly thinks Herder’s reasoning too intuitive, analogical, and poetic, and anyway contoured to mystical theology. Kant thinks that inferring general moral rules merely from empirical description of certain facts and speculative interpretation of those facts is unsound. Furthermore, we do not need to see all the value in human life, thought, and will as accruing from their relation to God. In humanity itself there is an ultimate self-sufficient value. In 1784 Kant writes that what is evident from the behaviors and internal organization of animals—that their natural dispositions tend, purposively, to a complete development—is true also for the rational animal. The goal of our predispositions is the use and development of reason. The projects of reason are endless; they span generations on and on. Reason “does not operate instinctively” (8:19). Reason “is a faculty of extending the rules and aims of the use of all its powers far beyond natural instinct” (8:18–19). Though no individual can fulfill the vast natural aim of reason in their limited life, an individual can participate by principle in the larger purpose of reason for the human species. Nature has given to the human being: reason and “the freedom of the will grounded on it,” with “a clear indication of [nature’s] aim in regard to that endowment” (8:19) Nature has given that the human being “should now not be guided by instinct or cared for and instructed by innate knowledge; rather he should produce everything out of himself. The invention of his means of nourishment, his clothing; his safety and defense (for which nature gives him neither the horns of the steer, nor the claws of the lion, nor the teeth of the dog, but merely his hands), all gratification that can make life agreeable, all his insight and prudence and even the generosity of his will, should be entirely his own work” (8:19; see also 1786). The human constitution is such that however far a human being may perfect his skill and thinking and thereby approach happiness on earth, he “may have only his own merit alone to thank for it; just as if [nature] had been more concerned about his rational self-esteem than about his well-being. For in this course of human affairs there is a whole host of hardships that await the human being. But it appears to have been no aim at all to nature that he should live well; but only that he should labor and work himself up so far that he might make himself worthy of well-being through his conduct of life” (8:20). Kant, like Rand, understands that reason is the means to human survival, well-being, and happiness. But he does not see the utility of reason as serving the ultimate end of life of the individual or species. He does not see life as an end in itself, rather he sees fullest development of reason as an end in itself beyond its service to life. As Kant puts it in his 1785 reviews of a work of Herder’s, humans happy simply in their animal life and enjoyments would lack the end essential to being human, “the always proceeding and growing activity and culture” (8:65). Before turning to Kant’s major works in ethics Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals (1785), Critique of Practical Reason (1788), and The Metaphysics of Morals (1797), I want to add a bit more in preparation. Firstly, in Kant’s view, the source(s) of moral obligation must be knowable by reason, however ignorant of the world we may be. “What in all possible cases [of action] is right or wrong we must be able to know according to [a] rule, because it concerns our obligation, and what we cannot know we also have no obligation to do” (B504 A476). Secondly, moral law does not derive from the will of God. This is consonant with the Leibnizian stance that moral law is part of the divine understanding, like the eternal truths of logic or geometry, not open to divine will. Moral laws, according to this tradition, have a necessity durable—they hold fast—under any contingencies grounded in the divine will. “As far as practical reason has the right to guide us, we shall not regard actions as obligatory because they are commands of God, but shall regard them as divine commands because we are intrinsically obliged to them” (B847 A819). Thirdly, Kant holds there can be no moral rightness or goodness unless agents to whom they pertain are free to follow moral rules. Practical freedom of the will is necessary also for human prudence. In prudent behavior, “the entire business of reason consists in taking all the purposes assigned to us by our inclinations and uniting them in the one purpose, happiness, and in harmonizing the means for attaining this happiness” (B828 A800). We are free in reasoning prudentially to make choices “determined not merely by what stimulates, i.e., by what directly affects the senses. Rather, we have a power of overcoming, through presentations of what is beneficial or harmful even in a more remote way, the impressions made upon our power of desire. These deliberations, however, concerning what is with regard to our whole state desirable, i.e., good or beneficial, rest on reason (B830 A803). Our deliberations are free in this practical sense, both for prudential and for moral deliberations. Kant thinks that if the phenomenal world were the only world, then its deterministic natural laws would rule the operations of the practical will. Our free will evidenced in the rational regulation of our actions would then be an illusion, as Spinoza had maintained earlier and as Johann Heinrich Schulz maintained in Kant’s time. Morality then would go out the house of rationality (B562–65 A534–37). Kant will not have that, and anyway, full determinism for rational beings is incoherent (1783). Resolution of this conundrum is one of his reasons for thinking there must be, in addition to the phenomenal world, a noumenal world, from which originating causes, courses not necessitated by natural law, can obtain in the phenomenal world. (To be continued.) References Beiser, F. C. 1987. The Fate of Reason. Harvard. Forster, M.N., editor and translator. 2002. Herder – Philosophical Writings. Cambridge. Herder, J.G. 1765. How Philosophy Can Become More Universal and Useful for the Benefit of People. In Forster 2002. ——. 1772. Treatise on the Origin of Language. In Forster 2002. ——. 1774. This Too a Philosophy of History for the Formation of Humanity. In Forster 2002. ——. 1778. On the Cognition and Sensation of the Human Soul. In Forster 2002. ——. 1799. A Metacritique on the Critique of Pure Reason. Kant, I. 1783. Review of Schulz’s “Attempt at an Introduction to a Doctrine of Morals for all Human Beings Regardless of Different Religions.” In Immanuel Kant – Practical Philosophy. 1996. M.J. Gregor, editor and translator. Cambridge. ——. 1784. Idea for a Universal History with a Cosmopolitan Aim. A.W. Wood, translator. In Zöller and Louden 2007. ——. 1785. Review of J.G. Herder’s Ideas for the Philosophy of the History of Humanity. A.W. Wood, translator. In Zöller and Louden 2007. ——. 1786. Conjectural Beginning of Human History. A.W. Wood, translator. In Zöller and Louden 2007. Kuehn, M. 2001. Kant – A Biography. Cambridge. Peikoff, L. 1982. The Ominous Parallels. Stein and Day. Zöller, G., and R.B. Louden, editors. 2007. Immanuel Kant – Anthropology, History, and Education. Cambridge.
  10. I. To 1781 Kant began to lecture at the University of Königsberg in 1755, at age 31. Hume’s Enquiry appeared in German in that year. A German translation of Hutcheson’s A System of Morality appeared the following year. German translations of Hutcheson’s two earlier major works on ethics were in Kant’s personal library. Kant remarks on ethical theory within his 1764 essay “Inquiry Concerning the Distinctness of the Principles of Natural Theology and Morality.” Kant maintains in “Inquiry” that there is a lot of work needing to be done concerning the fundamental concepts and principles of morality. His is a search for what distinct and certain knowledge has been or could be achieved in ethics, like his search earlier in this essay concerning mathematics, metaphysics, and natural theology. He had argued that in mathematics, the not-analyzable concepts and the indemonstrable propositions are few, whereas in philosophy, they are innumerable. Nevertheless, in the area of philosophy that is metaphysics, as much certainty is possible as in geometry. In all disciplines, the formal elements in judgments rely on the indubitable “laws of agreement and contradiction” (2:296). The proposition, “which expresses the essence of every affirmation and which accordingly contains the supreme formula of all affirmative judgments, runs as follows: to every subject there belongs a predicate which is identical with it. This is the law of identity. The proposition which expresses the essence of all negation is this: to no subject does there belong a predicate which contradicts it. This proposition is the law of contradiction. . . . These two principles together constitute the supreme universal principles, in the formal sense of the term, of human reason in its entirety” (2:294). If the concepts in a proposition can be found identical or contradictory directly, without mediation by some additional concept (the middle term of a syllogism), the proposition is indemonstrable. Otherwise the true proposition is provable. In metaphysics, as in mathematics, there are material concepts and principles that are indemonstrable and foundational. The number of these is greater in metaphysics than in mathematics. Metaphysics is more difficult than Euclidean geometry, though not less secure in its truths. The grounds of metaphysical truths are objective. They are not subjective criteria of conceivability or feeling of certainty (2:294). Turning to ethics, Kant ponders how necessity of moral obligation might be shown at the most fundamental level of the concept. At least we know this: moral necessity of means to ends derives from ends necessarily right in themselves. Unlike Aristotelians, Kant does not think happiness is an end necessarily right in itself. Whatever supreme source of moral obligation there might be, it will have to be manifest directly, indemonstrably. Otherwise, the purported moral end would be in truth only a means (2:298–99; cf. B613 A585, B662 A334, B868 A840). Kant will concede, to the Wolffians, that they have gotten hold of a formal ground of moral obligation in their rules “perform the most perfect action in your power” and “abstain from doing that which will hinder the realization of the greatest possible perfection.” But nothing can follow “from those two rules of the good, unless they are combined with indemonstrable material principles of practical cognition” (2:299). Now enters the influence of Hutcheson and Hume. “The faculty of representing the true is cognition,” whereas, “the faculty of experiencing the good is feeling, and these two faculties must not be confused with each other. . . . There is an unanalysable feeling of the good (which is never encountered in a thing absolutely but only relatively to a being endowed with sensibility). One of the tasks of the understanding is to analyse and render distinct the compound and confused concept of the good by showing how it arises from simpler feelings of the good. But if the good is simple, then the judgement: ‘This is good’, will be completely indemonstrable. . . . Take for example the principle: love him who loves you” (2:299–300). This practical principle is subsumed without meditation under the formal universal affirmative rule of good action. The special perfection in mutual love is not traceable back to the perfection of another perfect action. That mutual love has a “special perfection” qualifies “love them that love you” as a material moral principle for acting in accordance with the most perfect action in one’s power. Kant takes that much for moral truth, but “to attain the highest degree of philosophical certainty in the fundamental principles of morality, . . . the ultimate fundamental concepts of obligation need first to be determined more reliably” than he or anyone had yet done (2:300). At this stage of his philosophic development, Kant proposes no specific ultimate end in itself from which moral necessity is imputed to moral acts. Certainly such an end in itself cannot be happiness, for in happiness, Kant evidently does not sense or cognize any special perfection by which “pursue happiness” might qualify as a material moral principle for actions that are most perfect possible. Kant is unsure at this stage, however, whether it is the faculty of cognition or the faculty of feeling that decides the first material principles of ethics (2:300). To hold with the view that morality is based on moral sense or feeling goes radically beyond the safe saying that virtue presupposes feeling. Kant hesitates over taking the radical step. (See further, Kuehn 2001, 183–87.) Hutcheson is mentioned in this essay. Francis Hutcheson was greatly influenced by Shaftsbury; those two greatly influenced Hume. In his “Announcement of the Character of His Lectures during the Winter Semester of 1765–66,” Kant remarks that “the attempts of Shaftsbury, Hutcheson and Hume, although incomplete and defective, have nonetheless penetrated furthest in the search for the fundamental principles of all morality” (2:311). There is one thing, besides the framing in terms of perfection, I notice Kant does already at the earliest phase of crafting moral theory that he did not get from the British moralists. Kant puts some serious distance between happiness and virtue. Shaftsbury had taken on the perennial philosophic challenge of showing that private and public interest and happiness are in proportion to one’s moral virtue. Hutcheson had taken the virtue of an alternative to be gauged by greater amount of happiness brought to greater number of people. Hume had thought indifference to human happiness or misery to be, equally, indifference to virtue or vice. By the time of his Inaugural Dissertation (1770), Kant has set aside the supposition that we have a distinct faculty of moral sense. Morality is still seen in terms of a concept of moral perfection, now taken to be a noumenal perfection. Here the term noumenal means simply the intelligible as opposed to the sensible. “Moral philosophy, . . . in so far as it furnishes the first principles of judgement is only cognized by the pure understanding and itself belongs to pure philosophy {pure, apart from sense}. Epicurus, who reduced its criterion to the sense of pleasure or pain, is very rightly blamed, together with certain moderns who have followed him to a certain extent from afar, such as Shaftsbury and his supporters” (2: 396). (I'll use curly braces for my own insertions into quotes and square brackets for insertions by the translator.) For what error is Kant blaming Shaftsbury and other ethicists of moral sense or feeling? Shaftsbury had faulted hedonism, such as Epicureanism, for failing to provide a noncircular criterion for selecting which pleasures are virtuous. (To make this charge stick in the case of Epicurus, one would need to show he supplied no criterion for distinguishing necessary pleasures from unnecessary ones.) This criticism is familiar to readers of Rand. That is not the fault Kant is pointing to, in 1770, in both hedonism and moral-sense ethics. Kant has now come round to his settled view, for both theoretical philosophy and fundamental practical philosophy, that sense and sensibility should be kept radically distinct from intellect and intelligibility. Perfection is grasped conceptually. Fundamental principles of moral judgment are wholly an affair of the intellect. Happiness is partly sensory. Kant now has a systematic reason for keeping distance between happiness and virtue. Rand once wrote that “the essence of that which is man” is “his sovereign rational mind” (AS 1069). That is a conception of human being common, in a variety of forms, to many philosophies not skeptical. One part of Kant’s variation on this positive theme is his view, expressed in 1781 in Critique of Pure Reason, that every practical purpose is to be tuned to wisdom, prize of philosophy. Why so? “Precisely because wisdom is the idea of the necessary unity of all possible purposes, it must, as an original and at least limiting condition, serve everything practical as a rule” (B385 A328). Kant observes that there is an analogy between systematic organization by reason and the organization of animate nature. “Under reason’s government our cognitions as such must not amount to a rhapsody; rather, they must amount to a system, in which alone they can support and further reason’s essential purposes. By a system, however, I mean the unity of the manifold cognitions under an idea. This idea is reason’s concept of the form of a whole insofar as this concept determines a priori both the range of the manifold and the relative position that the parts have among one another. Hence reason’s scientific concept contains the whole’s purpose and the form of the whole congruent with this purpose. The unity characteristic of a purpose, to which all the parts refer and to which in the idea of the purpose they also refer among one another, makes possible the fact that every part can be missed if the remaining parts are familiar, and the fact that there is no place for any contingent addition or indeterminate magnitude of the whole’s perfection . . . . Hence the whole is structured . . . and not accumulated . . . . It can indeed grow internally . . . but not externally; i.e., it can grow only like an animal body, whose growth adds no member but makes each member stronger and more efficient for its purposes without and change of proportion.” (B860–61 A832–33) Kant does not see that the essential purpose of reason and understanding is the making of that systematic unity that is life for the human animal. Rather, in Kant’s view, one essential purpose of reason is to make our cognitions systematic. Another essential purpose of reason is to be a self-justifying moral legislator. Kant does not see that reason is given its purposes by human animal life, even though he knows that “everything in the animal has its benefit and good intent” for the life of the animal and its kind (B868 A840). “Essential purposes are not . . . the highest purposes, of which (in the case of perfect systematic unity of reason) there can be only one. Hence essential purposes are either the final purpose itself or subsidiary purposes that necessarily belong to the final purpose as means. The final purpose is none other than the whole vocation of the human being” (B868 A840). What is the whole vocation of the human being in general terms? Happiness? Life? Something beyond them? At this stage (1781), Kant says the whole and general vocation of the human being is to become ever worthy of happiness. “Do that whereby you become worthy to be happy” (B837 A809). Kant’s system of morality “is linked inseparably—but only in the idea of pure reason—with the system of happiness” (B937 A809). “Happiness is the satisfaction of all our inclinations (extensively, in terms of their manifoldness; intensively, in terms of their degree; and also protensively, in terms of their duration). The practical law issuing from the motive of happiness I call pragmatic (i.e., rule of prudence). But the practical law that has as its motive nothing but the worthiness to be happy . . . I call moral (moral law). The pragmatic law advises [us] what we must do if we want to partake of happiness; the moral law commands how we ought to behave in order to become worthy of happiness. The pragmatic law is based on empirical principles; for in no other way than by means of experience can I know either what inclinations there are that want to be satisfied, or what the natural causes are that can bring about the satisfactions of those inclinations. The moral law abstracts from inclination and from the natural means of satisfying them. It considers only the freedom of a rational being as such, and the necessary conditions under which alone this freedom harmonizes with a distribution of happiness that is made in accordance with principles” (B834 A806). Notice a superseding dynamic in Rand’s ethical theory. A person’s self-esteem is “his inviolate certainty that his mind is competent to think and his person is worthy of happiness, which means: is worthy of living” (AS 1018). Self-esteem is a cardinal value for life of the animal who must reason to live. Self-esteem is a feature of the human form of conscious life. The value self-esteem presupposes the ultimate value life. The concept worth, like moral value, presupposes life of the rational animal. Kant thinks of the world of morality as an intelligible world “in whose concept we abstract from all obstacles to morality (i.e., from inclinations)” (B837 A809). In that world, “a system of a proportionate happiness linked with morality can indeed be thought as necessary. For freedom, partly impelled and partly restricted by moral laws, would itself be the cause of general happiness; and hence rational beings, under the guidance of such principles, would themselves be originators of their own and also of other beings’ lasting welfare. But this system of morality that rewards itself is only an idea” (B837–38 A809–10). Though taken only as a guiding and limiting idea by Kant, such a world corresponds to Leibniz’ kingdom of grace. “Morality in itself amounts to a system; but happiness does not, except insofar as its distribution is exactly commensurate with morality. This however is possible only in the intelligible {not sensible} world . . . .” (B839 A811). Because morality delivers rational, necessary commands, moral laws must be connected a priori with commensurate promises for and threats to welfare and happiness in an ideal limit. But such commanding, “the moral laws cannot do unless they reside in a necessary being that, as the highest good, can alone make such a purposive unity possible” (B840 A812). In Kant’s view, happiness is by itself incapable of being the complete good; happiness needs to be united with worthiness to be happy in order to instance complete goodness. On the other side of the union, “morality by itself—and with it the mere worthiness to be happy—is also far from being the complete good. In order for this good to be completed, the person who in his conduct has not been unworthy of happiness must be able to hope that he will partake of it” (B842 A814). To the shortfall of happiness that ought to ensue one’s moral actions, Kant tried to leave open a not irrational hope for happiness in life beyond the limit of the one we know. For such a shortfall, Rand rested with the fully rational consolation of having been touched by the rays of a morally ideal rational world (AS 1068). The absolute finality and spur of life as moral value, in Rand’s theory, stems from the self-sufficiency of life itself and the absolute stillness and value-void of its cessation. Kant thought that for all areas of science, including biology, all empirical causes of unity are derivative of final absolute necessary unity beyond the empirical world. Though we should suppose it in our research, though we should reach in its direction in our research, this self-sufficient basis of any derivative contingent unities in the empirical world, including the distinctive unities of organisms, is beyond our reach (B644–45 A616–17). For Kant moral concepts are concepts that surpass the possibility of experience. The concept of what is virtuous will be shown to be to some degree feasible by actual persons, but the standard is the concept, not some actual archetype (B372 A315). The idea of an organized society “consisting of the greatest human freedom according to laws through which the freedom of each can coexist with that of others (not an organization consisting of the greatest happiness, for this will no doubt follow on its own)” is a moral concept (B373 A316). Kant is here posing a transpersonal archetype within which greatest happiness among persons would follow. It is a perfect arrangement that has never been fully instituted. Although this ideal is only a concept, the closer actual constitutions approach it, the closer human beings come to the greatest perfection possible (B373–74 A317). At this stage of his thought, Kant understands organisms in the same manner. “A plant, an animal, the regular arrangement of the world edifice (hence presumably also the whole natural order) show distinctly that they are possible only according to ideas” (B374 A317–18). The term idea here means a concept formed by reason from concepts originating (not empirically, but) solely in the understanding and surpassing the possibility of experience (B377 A320). The arrangements within and among plants and animals show that “no individual creature under the individual conditions of its existence is congruent with the idea of the most perfect creature of its kind” (B374 A318). We are justified in rising “from the merely replicating contemplation of what is physical in the world order to this order’s architectonic connection according to purposes, i.e., according to ideas” (B375 A318). Kant sees that happiness can follow naturally from acting according to ideals other than happiness. He sees that happiness can follow from a certain ideal form of organized human activity. He does not see that life of physical organisms is the ground, the fully adequate ground, of any manifest functions or purposes in their internal and external activities. He does not see that life is the ground of purpose, reason, and happiness. (To be continued.) References Kant, I. 1764. Inquiry Concerning the Distinctness of the Principles of Natural Theology and Morality. In Walford 1992. ——. 1765. Kant’s Announcement of the Programme of His Lectures for the Winter Semester 1765–66. In Walford 1992. ——. 1770. On the Form and Principles of the Sensible and the Intelligible World. In Walford 1992. ——. 1781, 1787. Critique of Pure Reason. W. S. Pluhar, translator. Hackett. Kuehn, M. 2001. Kant – A Biography. Cambridge. Rand, A. 1957. Atlas Shrugged. Random House. Walford, D., translator and editor. 1992. Immanuel Kant – Theoretical Philosophy 1755–1770. Cambridge.
  11. KANT’S WRESTLE WITH HAPPINESS AND LIFE I composed this study in 2009. It has been online at the OBJECTIVIST LIVING forum since then. It would be good to have it right here. (I began online posting in Objectivism-interested forums in 2005. That was at the site REBIRTH OF REASON. In a while, I found that I could compose serious extended philosophical writings on such forums, which was not the usual fare, and no one would object. Later the posting site OL came on the scene, and it showed the number of hits on a post. Then I could see that many were reading what I wrote, and the more informative or serious the post, the more hits. In 2009 the owner of OL, Michael Stuart Kelly, had the idea of creating a sector, shown always on the front page of the forum, with subsections dedicated to writings of certain authors and to friendly comments on those writings. I was one of the authors he invited, and in a while, I came to develop full-scale scholarly essays for that sector, for in that setup, the essays do not become deeply buried by other posts on the site, and such long hard study and writing efforts become worthwhile for online, i.e., they stand a good chance of reaching appropriate eyes and minds. In 2014 I was invited to have such a dedicated sector here, for which I am very grateful. In January of that year, I had stopped writing essays—for the first time in 30 years, for one medium or another—to write a book. So in this sector I’ve written new pieces that were part of my studies and thinking for the topics only in that book project. This 2009 essay is tributary to my philosophy work day after tomorrow, and to be sure, it is worthy of wide exposure of itself.) This study comprises four parts: I. To 1781 II. Towards 1785 III. Into 1785 IV. Moral Worth, Necessary and Free (A/B)
  12. III.E Empirical Judgment – Kant and Rand I mentioned two constructions of declarative statements such as “The room is warm” or “The stone is growing warmer.” They may be taken as “I feel the room warm” or “I feel the stone grow warmer.” Under this construction, the statements mean “If I enter the room, I feel it warm” or “If I touch the stone at intervals, I feel it warming.” As we have seen, Kant would not count these hypothetical judgments of perception as reflecting an objective state of affairs and as amenable to being developed into objective, possibly scientific judgments. He was wrong about that. Kant correctly observed that predicative statements such as “The stone is growing warmer” or “The stone has weight” are also and plainly construed as about the stone. Similarly it is with “Bodies are heavy,” meaning “Bodies have weight.” The copula is in these predicative judgments indicates we are stating a relation of objective validity. In this construction, according to Kant, we are stating relations from the understanding, not relations (as in Hume) from reproductive imagination. Under this construction, this one at least, “a judgment is nothing but a way of bringing given cognitions to the objective unity of apperception” (B142). The copula is “indicates the reference of the presentations to original apperception and its necessary unity. The reference to this necessary unity is there even if the judgment itself is empirical and hence contingent—e.g., Bodies are heavy. By this I do not mean that these presentations belong necessarily to one another in the empirical intuition. Rather, I mean that they belong to one another by virtue of the necessary unity of apperception in the synthesis of intuitions; i.e., they belong to one another according to principles of the objective determinations of all presentations insofar as these presentations can become cognition—all of these principles being derived from the principle of the transcendental unity of apperception. Only through this [reference to original apperception and its necessary unity] does this relation [among presentations] become a judgment, i.e., a relation that is valid objectively and can be distinguished adequately from a relation of the same presentations that would have only subjective validity—e.g., a relation according to laws of association. According to these laws, all I could say is: When I support a body, then I feel the pressure of heaviness. I could not say: It, the body, is heavy—which amounts to saying that these two presentations are not merely together in perception (no matter how often repeated), but are combined in the object, i.e., combined independently of what the subject’s state is.” (B142) Recall from the preceding section of this essay that in his logic lectures Kant conceived of predicative judgments, particular or general, as saying “There is something x to which the subject concept applies and to which the predicate concept also applies” or “To everything x for which the subject concept applies, the predicate concept applies” (see Kant 1800, 607; cf. 1764, 294; 1770, 411). This pattern coincides with the first identity, a particular identity, of the triple identity I have drawn out for predicative existential judgments (Boydstun 1991, 43–45). What Kant is posing in B142 is that identity of subject and predicate, a particular identity by way of connection to a common object x, has its ultimate, “original” source of unity not in the object. Rather, the unity as found in the object and as reported of the object is really ultimately from the understanding with which we handle the objectively given. This is a construal of predicative judgments as contrived as the Humean reduction of objective attributions to associative relations. Each of those two winding construal retains an indirect sense of objectivity, wherein common character of the human mind across individuals engaged in the world can be winnowed from the idiosyncratic. When Kant says that results of laws of association have only a subjective validity, he is not trying to combine the idiosyncratic with the notion of validity (cf. Kant c. 1770, 45, 93). He is not claiming Hume’s picture or his own class of judgments he calls judgments of perception to be lacking any indirect sort of objectivity. Hence: subjective validity (cf. subjective universality, c. 1780, 810; 1792, 706, 709; universal semblance, 1800, 39). Kant is saying that regular associative mental powers—powers healthy, needed, and not idiosyncratic—do not yield legitimate attributions to objects in appearance. Our predicative judgments of objects, our judgments of experience, do make legitimate attributions to objects in appearance, and they are able to do so because such objects are not things in themselves, because there is content in empirical intuition independent of our mind and its forms, and because the synthetic unity of apperception provides the unity of objects in sensory intuition as well as the unity in a judgment about them. In Prolegomena Kant had observed “there would be no reason why other judgments necessarily would have to agree with mine, if there were not the unity of the object—an object to which they all refer, with which they all agree, and, for that reason, also must harmonize among themselves” (1783, 298; see also A820–23 B848–51; 1786a, 144–46). In Critique of Practical Reason, Kant reiterates “universality of assent does not prove the objective validity of a judgment (i.e. its validity as cognition) but only that, even if universal assent should happen to be correct, it could still not yield a proof of agreement with the object; on the contrary, only objective validity constitutes the ground of a necessary universal agreement” (1788, 13). (The external criterion or touchstone of truth, concurrence from others, is evidently taken up by Kant from G. F. Meier’s logic text from which Kant lectured; c. 1770, 45–46, 81, 93, 150, 178–79, 187–88, 234; c. 1780, 806, 853, 873–74; 1792, 706, 721, 740, 746; 1800, 36–37, 48, 57, 80.) In those statements, Kant gets right the order—trueness in reason to object, concurrence of other minds in their reason concerning the object—even if he massively errs by the constitutive role he gives to forms of sensory intuition and fundamental a priori concepts in the presentation of objects (see also Allison 2004, 88–89). In his refutation of Hume’s empiricism and skepticism, Kant maintains there is no way someone might discover “that there is and can be no a priori cognition at all. . . . [That] would be tantamount to someone’s wanting to prove by reason that there is no reason” (1788, 12; cf. c. 1780, 885–86; 1800, 84). “For, we say that we cognize something by reason only when we are aware that we could have known it even if it had not presented itself as it did in experience; hence rational cognition and cognition a priori are one and the same. It is an outright contradiction to want to extract necessity from an empirical proposition (ex pumice aquam [water from a pumice stone]) and to give a judgment, along with necessity, true universality (without which there is no rational inference . . .). To substitute subjective necessity, that is, custom, for objective necessity, which is to be found only in a priori judgments, is to deny to reason the ability to judge an object, that is, to cognize it and what belongs to it; it is to deny, for example, that when something often or always follows upon a certain prior state one could infer it from that (for this would mean objective necessity and the concept of an a priori connection) and to say only that we may expect similar cases (just as animals do), that is, to reject the concept of cause fundamentally as false and a mere delusion of thought.” (1788, 12) It is right here that Kant’s denial that universal assent is sufficient for validating the truth of judgments—their agreement of judgments with their objects—is put to work. Hume did not take up a universal imagistic empiricism, for he exempted arithmetic, algebra, and logic. But with Hume’s doctrine that custom can explain objective relations, there is no concordant reason for those exemptions. It is well known that Hume “asked nothing more than that a mere subjective meaning of necessity, namely custom, be assumed in place of any objective meaning of necessity in the concept of cause . . . .” (1788, 13). Extending Hume’s principle to arrive at a truly universal empiricism lands one in an absurd conflict of reason with itself and, hence, in total skepticism. Mathematics “inevitably comes into conflict with a reason that admits only empirical principles” (13). For example, if mathematics “proves incontestably the infinite divisibility of space, which empiricism cannot allow, then the greatest possible evidence of demonstration is in manifest contradiction with the alleged inferences from empirical principles . . .” (13). Universal empiricism leaves no touchstone against skepticism of experience, where experience “consists not of feelings only but also of judgments,” such as the touchstones that are the a priori principles of mathematics. Kant’s theories about how it is that arithmetic and geometry apply to the world are untrue. And Hume’s reasoning to the atomicity of space and time were unsound anyway (Boydstun 1991, 18–20). Kant was onto something nevertheless. Although we do not require Kant’s doctrines of synthetic a priori intuition for modern mathematics, it remains that careful postulates of an area of mathematics, such as incidence postulates of the Euclidean plane, are in addition to the axioms and inference rules of logic. And though such postulates can be exemplified empirically—a four-legged table is more apt to rock than is a three-legged table because three points determine a plane (my example)—their credit as postulates for an area of mathematics is not by durability under empirical test. Kant takes some universal concurrence (such as we have, so far as we have, concerning logic and mathematics) about objects to be a sort of objectivity, one not stemming ultimately from character of objects as they are in appearance, but from given formal character of the subject in the intuition, conception, and judgment of objects in appearance. To the score of Kant over empiricist Hume, we may mark two points. The incidence of judgments of experience in human experience and knowledge is extensive, and custom from repeated association cannot account for our powers of concepts and judgments, including concept and judgment of causality. Mathematics, especially geometry, figures large in our empirical knowledge, and Hume is unsuccessful in accounting by perception and custom for the geometric method and results in Euclid and for the integral effectiveness of geometry in Newton’s mechanics and induction to universal gravitation (cf. Allison 2008, 83–87; De Pierris 2012; Norman 2006; De Pierris and Friedman 2008, §3). In the hypothetical judgment “If the sun shines on the stone, the stone grows warm,” Kant’s favored example of a judgment of perception (1783), he does not take “the stone grows warm” as if it said “I am feeling the stone warmer and warmer.” He takes it in the external-appearance way, as about the stone (1800, 114). He distinguishes, however, between simply stating “The stone grows warm” and that same statement as consequent in the hypothetical judgment. Embedded in the hypothetical judgment, “the stone grows warm” is connected to another physical condition as one of its grounds (A73 B98). Traditionally, ground had been a reason for why something is, where the reason was both logical and ontological (Longuenesse 1998, 99–101, 345–48; Correia and Schnieder 2012, 1–9). A ground might be causal as in “If burning, a candle shortens,” but it need not be. Not causal would be the ground in “If a thing is an animal, then it is a living thing” or “If a figure is a triangle, then the figure’s angles sum to two right angles.” Kant describes the relation of the consequent to the antecedent in hypothetical judgment as a problematic relation, in contrast to an assertoric one. By this he means that in the hypothetical form of judgment, we suspend assessment of the truth of the antecedent; we note only its susceptibility of such an assessment and the possibility of merely entertaining it as true. The only truth we assess in the hypothetical frame of mind is the ability of the inference from antecedent to consequent to propagate truth (A74–76 B100–101, A646–51 B674–79, A822 B850). Thereby, a valid consequent can be used to probe truth of its problematic antecedent in an application of logic; a valid consequent that is false implies falsity of the antecedent (B112, 114; A411 B438; A610–12 B638–40; A790–91 B818–19; 1792, 721). Kant allows that in the hypothetical frame of mind we recognize that true following of a consequent from antecedent is due to the antecedent being some sort of ground for the consequent. The grounding could be a necessary one or a contingent one. Because life is an essential characteristic of animals, one may rightly say not only the hypothetical “If a thing is an animal, then it is a living thing,” but “All animals are living things” were one to go on and discern the grounding relation of the hypothetical judgment. Life is a condition internal to being an animal. A triangle’s three angles summing to two right angles is a condition internal to being a triangle. Burning of a candle is not a condition internal to candle, its length, or its alteration of length. Exposure to sunlight is not a condition internal to stone or its warming. (On internal/external see A265–66 B321–22; A274–75 B330–31; A277–78 B333–34; A283–85 B339–42; c. 1770, 87–88, 106–7, 113, 123–25; c. 1780, 838–39, 919–21; 1792, 725, 727.) How does one determine whether the external relation of candle burning to candle length is a necessary one or a contingent one? What are the physical contingent conditions within which it is a physically necessary one, otherwise contingent? How does one determine that character for the external relation of a stone’s exposure to sunlight and the stone’s warming? Is that determination made in the same strokes by which Kant would have judgments of perception transformed into judgments of experience? Though we do not accede to Kant’s view that all (even any) judgments of experience derive from judgments of perception, these questions recur (i) concerning logical, not genetic, relations between those two types of judgment, (ii) concerning genetic passage from percepts and their action schemata to observations and (iii) concerning genetic passage from phenomena to scientific law (on the last: Newton 1726; Stein 1991; Harper 2002; 2011; Smith 2002; cf. Harriman 2010, chaps. 1–4). Answers to these questions as they tie to Kant’s vista take one along the course of his objective validity in which powers of understanding and judgment are constitutive and determinative of objects of experience and laws of nature, not only reflective and not only regulative of our apprehension (A644–64 B672-92; 1790, 179–86; 1800, 131–32; Longuenesse 1998, 163–65). Kant points to Francis Bacon and to Newton along the way in his grapple with these questions, transfiguring the crown achievement of Newton in Metaphysical Foundations of Natural Science (Kant 1786b; Freidman1992, chaps. 3–4, 242–64; 2013). There is another sort of objective validity set forth by Kant in which the power of judgment and ideas of reason are only reflective and only regulative of our right thinking and action. The latter type of objective validity pertains saliently to the teleological judgments of biology, to esthetic judgments, and to rational faith, and it pertains as background for the possibility of empirical judgments and their organization with each other. It might seem that in the problematic stance of a hypothetical judgment (conditional judgment) one is asserting less than in an assertoric judgment. That would be correct in comparison with an assertoric judgment that specified the grounding relation of the hypothetical judgment. Also, if one takes hypothetical judgments to be true where the antecedent may be without any truth and hence fail to ground the consequent, as in modern material implication, they assert less than hypothetical judgments asserted for reason of having some grounding relation or other (on hypothetical judgments with the Greeks, see Kneale and Kneale 1962, 12–38; late medieval – Aho and Yrjönsuri 2009, 61–66; Leibniz – Capozzi and Roncaglia 2009, 121; Peirce – Hilpinen 2009; today – Nozick 1981, 248–51, 261–63; 2001, 86–87; Priest 2001, 9–15, 58–72, 162–206; Mares 2004, chap. 1; Aberdein and Read 2009, 668–82; Patterson 2012, chap. 7). Kant is not interested in hypothetical judgments taken for true and as possibly having no grounding relation (see c. 1770: hypothetical judgment 276–77, 285, provisional judgment 161–64, supposition 195–97, hypothesis 220–24, 230, and proofs 233–34, 279, 285; see also c. 1780, 824, 850, 885–89, 892, 910, 916, 932–35; 1792, 719, 724, 732, 735–38, 763–66, 772, 776; 1800, 51–53, 66–67, 74–75, 84–85, 96, 105–6, 108–9, 121–22, 129), and Kant’s causally grounded hypothetical judgments are more stringent than mere material implication (Kitcher 1998, 234). It is not the case in general, however, that a hypothetical judgment asserted as true and as having some ground or another asserts less than any assertoric judgment. The proposition if p then q is logically equivalent to not-(p and not-q). The latter is assertoric. Moreover, assertion of those two negations is substantial and dependent on right assertive powers concerning p and q (A72–73 B97–98, A574–75 B602–3, A708–9 B737–38; c. 1770, 110, 156, 255, 275; c. 1780, 836, 929–35; 1792, 764; 1800, 59–60, 103–4). Since Kant’s hypothetical judgments have some ground or other, problematically, the not outside the parenthesis in the conjunctive logical equivalent has to be read as denial of a conjunction that is posed upon some ground or other, not mere, free conjunction. This way of looking at hypothetical judgments in Kant’s day would also be the way in my own vista of basic logic, as never parting from identification. According to notes from Kant’s logic lectures of 1792, he calls problematic a judgment in which one merely posits that a triangle has six sides (719). Perhaps he had in mind putting such a posit into a hypothetical “If a triangle had six sides, it would have six interior angles.” The antecedent seems to provide some ground for the consequence or anyway it points to the grounding relation that figures closed by straight lines have equal numbers of sides and angles, which is not a posit. Kant’s logical plane of problematic reflection is unstable because he attempts to separate logic, general and transcendental, from our interest in logic, which is truth, which is not only agreement of cognition with itself, but is relation to real objects, including concrete ones (contra A55-59 B79–84; A76–77 B102; A78 B104; A154–55 B193–94). That interest rightly conditions all formality and normativity of logic. The object of formal logic can be merely any possible such object, all such objects designated, for example, under determinate something (cf. Kant 1800, 95, 99). The normativity of logic is ultimately from normativity of life, thence life by thought on world. Kant’s incorrect thesis that general logic can be formal without any structure from content and can be normative yet not derived from empirical reality nor conformed to ontology precipitates his program of setting the basic forms of judgment and the fundamental categories in judgment to normativity of that same incorrect character. (On Kant’s logic in the history of logic, see Capozzi and Roncaglia 2009; on the failure of Kant’s formalism, see Pippin 1982.) Notice that judgment p and judgment q in if p then q and in not-(p and not-q) are judgments of experience within the problematic hypothetical judgment whose external grounding relations (i.e., causal relations) are unknown or unspecified. “The stone warms” or “The candle shortens” already report determinate changes having excluded contraries (cooling and lengthening) and having definite rates and durations. Kant’s judgment of perception lies in the problematic character of the relation of its antecedent to its consequent. I suggest, for closer scrutiny in other essays in the future, that the degree to which that character is problematic covaries with the degree to which not-q has not been elaborated among contraries and that there is some dynamic between specification of causal grounding relation of antecedent to consequent and the degree to which not-q has been elaborated among contraries. It remains that discovery of specific causal relation requires observation and, often, mathematical characterizations. One can observe melted wax of the candle flame entering the wick and flame, and one can observe the dryness of the top of the wick and the smoke emerging from the top of the flame. One can observe, that far, a causal link between “The candle burns” and “The candle shortens.” One must resort to more rarified concepts, such as heat or caloric, and to their mathematical characterization to attain a comparable understanding of causal linkage between “The stone is exposed to sunlight” and “The stone warms.” Where p is q, we have not-(p and not-p), which is the principle of noncontradiction. There the not-q, which is not-p, is bare negation and reports minimal information. Kant’s judgments of perception never have a negation that impoverished of standing among contraries. Kant seems cognizant of some different strengths of negation and their different informative merit (A72–73 B97–98; c. 1780, 929–31; 1792, 764; 1800, 104), but I have not found him realizing that his p’s and q’s as they are constituents in judgments of perception are themselves decidedly judgments of experience, and I have not seen him point out the logical equivalence between if p then q and not-(p and not-q) at all, let alone attempt to plot, with a view to that equivalence, the relation of hypothetical judgment of perception to noncontradiction on the one hand, to p causes q on the other. (On history of thought on strengths of negation, see Horn 2001, table on 140–41 and supporting text.) Kant’s nonarbitrariness of antecedent to consequent in his judgments of perception, such as in “If exposed to sunlight, stone warms,” can go so far as to stand them problematically in his category of relation that is causality, where the specific causal structure is unknown but can be found. In this way, I suggest, Kant’s judgments of perception wear the armor against empirical skepticism and Berkeleyean idealism worn by judgments of experience in their objective validity and object-normativity. Problematic judgments of perception are anticipatory of and bear allegiance to possible specification among problematically held alternatives that would transform those judgments into judgments of experience (cf. Longuenesse 1998, 99–104, 176–88, 347–75, 394–99; Allison 2002, 9–10; 2004, 173–201, 211–18, 223–24, 229–36, 256–60). We have seen Kant say that judgments of experience have objective validity, whereas judgments of perception have subjective validity. I have argued to the contrary that Kant’s judgments of perception (or my judgments of percepts) can have objectivity. We agree they state regularities in hypothetical form wherein there is some grounding relation or other between antecedent and consequent. But because I think there are not judgments of perception without percepts of objects as existing and acting, and there are not judgments of perception without observations—even if not judgments of observation (or Kant’s judgments of experience)—it is misleading to say true judgments of perception have subjective validity as against objective validity. That some true perceptual judgments make essential reference to the subject, not only to objects and their relations, does not exclude their objectivity in the normative sense. It is misleading to say they do not have objective validity merely because they are not wholly about objects. Furthermore, true perceptual judgments, such as “If stone is exposed to sunlight, it warms,” which are wholly about objects and their relations, should not be taken for not objective on account of the grounding relation between antecedent and consequent being left undetermined, problematic. Kant’s judgments of perception should be recognized as having an objective validity differing from that in judgments of experience only by having topic not wholly about objects and their relations or by having specific grounding relations between antecedents and consequences of warranted hypothetical judgments left unknown. Whatever their topic, it is by identification of the grounding relations of antecedent and consequent in the judgment of perception that—speaking not genetically, as Kant, but only analytically—transforms it into a judgment of experience and transforms its objective validity into a more deeply embedded objective validity. That we find stones become warm after sunlight upon them and not the other way around; that the stones become warmer, not cooler, after sunlight upon them; that we find stones in other circumstances can be warmed by other means than by the sun shining on them; and that sunlight melts wax, but hardens clay (A766 B794), are constraints and flexibilities in possibility that Kant did not think could be accounted for on a purely associational account of all structure we find in the world. I agree. We agree also that the nature of mathematics and its role in expression and discovery of natural law is not plausibly explained purely by association. Kant erred in thinking particular occasions in which we find exposure to sunlight preceding stone-warming have that necessity of that sequence, instead of its reverse, from application of our conceptual grasp of causality (B233–34). In truth such given necessity is grasped on each occasion by our prelinguistic powers of perception and observation. Kant thought that there are general structural constraints on all objects and their interrelations. An important example would be that “all changes occur according to the law of connection of cause and effect” (B232). The analogue in Rand’s philosophy would be that all change is under identity and is caused and determined by entities in their identity. Another structural constraint on objects in general held high by Kant is that “all substances, insofar as they can be perceived in space as simultaneous, are in thoroughgoing interaction” (B256). Rand’s analogue for all existents, not only for all entities or substances, would be that if anything did not affect anything else nor was affected by anything else, it would not exist (ITOE 39). For Rand necessities, unities, and differences are fundamentally in the world, and the law of identity is not a principle first brought to the world from our minds in its encounters with the world. Kant had it the other way around. In his view, the existence and necessity of causal connections are from the understanding (together with productive imagination) in its making of experience from percepts by fixing in certain ways generic temporal objects in appearance for further, empirical discovery of their more specific properties and relations. Within Kant’s larger framework with its primacy of object-seeking and form-conferring subject, application of his categories of the understanding, rendered temporal, schematic, and application of his synthetic principles of objects in general (such as the two principles stated in the paragraph before last) were supposed to yield judgments of experience from judgments of perception, objective validity from subjective validity. Because it is by the categories and principles of the understanding that objects are given, and in certain general ways, Kant calls those operations of the understanding constitutive. They have objective validity. Reason directs understanding, and one of reason’s directives is to seek systematic unity among our various judgments of experience and among the laws and powers we find in nature. We should take this condition of the systematic unity of nature problematically. It cannot be proven that nature is entirely unified but we should investigate and systematize as if it were entirely unified with some strength or other. "Now, every principle that lays down a priori for the understanding the thoroughgoing unity of the latter’s use holds also, although only indirectly, of the object of experience. Hence the principles of pure reason will have objective reality as regards this object also—not, however, so as to determine anything in this object, but only so as to indicate the procedure whereby the understanding’s empirical and determinate experiential use can become thoroughly accordant with itself. This use can become so by being as much as possible brought into coherence with, and derived from, the principle of thoroughgoing unity." (A665–66 B693–94) There are principles of pure reason having indeterminative objective reality. Such is the principle of systematic unity throughout nature, coincident our economical understanding by organization into relations of species-genus, natural laws, and deeper natural laws unifying more restricted ones. In the preceding passage, Kant said the unity principle has objective reality regarding objects of experience. In the following passage, he argues the principle is an objectively valid one. "Nor can we say that this unity according to principles of reason was gleaned by reason previously from the contingent character of nature. For reason’s law whereby we are to seek this unity is necessary, because without this law we would have no reason at all, but without reason would have no coherent use of the understanding, and in the absence of such use would have no sufficient mark of empirical truth. And hence, in view of this mark, we must throughout presuppose the systematic unity of nature as objectively valid and necessary." (A651 B179) Objective validity is not all of the same shade in Kant’s use of the phrase (cf. also A125; B140; A131 B170; A156–57 B195–96; A160 B199; A289 B345; A788 B816). Kant resists characterizing the principle of systematic unity as necessary objectively. Rather, the principle of systematic unity is necessary “merely subjectively and logically, as a method” (A648 B676; also 1790, 184–86). I should reply with Rand that existence is identity, that existence of any existent entails some relations to other existents and a relation of part to the whole that is existence, and that logic is part of the process of identifying existents, including their relationships. Rand adds that existence is identity entails that all concrete relationships in which existents stand to each other are magnitude relations. Kant would approve of such a necessary entailment as that last (A162–76 B202–18), though only as of the phenomenal realm, the only realm open to our understanding, a realm only part of the real. I dispute the necessary entailment of the magnitude principle from Rand’s metaphysics, contrary her own characterization of the principle (ITOE 39), though I take it for an objectively grounded hypothesis. Objectivism can concur with Kant that systematic unity of all nature is not a precept for thought constitutive of nature. But Objectivism is metaphysically realist and denies that any of our precepts for investigating nature, such as the principle of identity, including causality, are constitutive of nature, its unities, or its necessities. Rather, those rules are right and profitable because true in the world and its possibilities, true in the only world, the world whose givenness is in no part from our minds. Kant wrongly hangs his distinction between subjective validity and objective validity whenever he hangs the distinction on essential relativity to subjects as against concurrence among minds in their reason. Rather, we should keep the untoward sense of subjectivity to error-producing idiosyncratic association and to insensitivity to givenness and its determinacy; keep objectivity to object, its potentials, and its norm-setting for mind or to fidelity of mind to object and its potentials. The putative subjectivity of the subjective validity of “Sugar is sweet” then dissolves into an objectivity even though it entails response of a subject. The variety of subjectivity I specified in the preceding paragraph is one variety within the general category of the subjective. The general sense is: to the side of the subject, distinguished from its object. Call this general sense of subjectivity elementary subjectivity. Call the variety of elementary subjectivity specified in the preceding paragraph bumbling subjectivity. Another variety of elementary subjectivity is that of conceptualization and mathematics. Set membership, including membership in the dimensioned sets that are concepts, is a relation in the mind concerning collections in the world and concerning other sets. The membership relation is radically to the side of the human subject. However, objects and relations accessed only through abstract, conceptual membership relations can be in the world and concretely so (contra Kant on the elements of matter; see A646 B674; Carrier 2001, 215–22; Friedman 1992, 264–66, 288–89). As Descartes and Newton declared, such is the case of geometry. Kant rightly took concepts to be elementary subjectivity. He took geometry to be elementary subjectivity, but erred by taking it to be not also concretely in thoroughly mind-independent physical world. Let us call the elementary subjectivity of proper concepts, of mathematics, of logic, and of percepts and observations apposite subjectivity. When Kant or anyone says merely that something is subjective—that formality or reflectivity or sensation or taste or rational faith is subjective—elementary subjectivity is asserted, but whether the elementary subjectivity is bumbling or apposite is all the difference in the world and needs to be determined. Likewise for Kant’s uses of “subjective validity,” they must be disambiguated as between bumbling or apposite subjectivity. Apposite subjectivity is objective. It is objectivity, that relation of consciousness to existence effective for grasp and act in the world. Contrary to Kant, objectivity as conformance to object does not entail discursivity or the power of judgment. We make observations and take actions upon them when we are still crawling, long before language or even reference by pointing. We develop powers of observation, powers of integrating present percepts with some know-that concerning objects and their causal relations, particularly with respect to our possibilities for perception and action, all without language, and there is not conceptual and judgmental objectivity that does not continue to rely on those prelinguistic powers. With my Randian corrections to Kant’s distinction of the subjective and the objective, there remains room for taking logic, mathematics, and either Kant’s categories and their principles or Rand’s metaphysical axioms and their corollaries to be rails of objectivity for knowledge beyond our prelinguistic observations, with their requisite percepts and schemata. 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Malament, D., editor, 2002. Reading Natural Philosophy. Open Court. Mares, E. D. 2004. Relevant Logic – A Philosophical Interpretation. Cambridge. Newton, I. 1726 [1687, 1713]. Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy and the System of the World. A. Motte (1729) and F. Cajori (1934), translators. California. Norman, J. 2006. After Euclid – Visual Reasoning & the Epistemology of Diagrams. CSLI. Nozick, R. 1981. Philosophical Explanations. Harvard. ——. 2001. Invariances – The Structure of the Objective World. Harvard. Patterson, D. 2012. Alfred Tarski: Philosophy of Language and Logic. Palgrave. Pippin, R. B. 1982. Kant’s Theory of Form. Yale. Rand, A. 1966–67. Introduction to Objectivist Epistemology. 2nd ed. 1990. Meridian. Smith, G. E. 2002. From the Phenomenon of the Ellipse to an Inverse-Square Force: Why Not? In Malament 2002. Stein, H. 1991. “From the Phenomena of Motions to the Forces of Nature:” Hypothesis or Deduction? Philosophy of Science Association Proceedings 2:209–22. Walford, D., translator, 1992. Immanuel Kant – Theoretical Philosophy, 1755–1770. Cambridge. Wood, A. W., and G. Di Giovanni, editors, 1996. Immanuel Kant – Religion and Rational Theology. Cambridge. Young, J. M., translator, 1992. Immanuel Kant – Lectures on Logic. Cambridge.
  13. III.D Empirical Judgment – Kant and Rand As of Prolegomena (1783), Kant held that what he was calling our judgments of experience begin as mere judgments of perception. He thought there were some judgments of perception that could not become judgments of experience. I shall argue that although Kant was mistaken in supposing there are any such recalcitrant judgments of perception, his distinction between the two kinds is shadow of a right distinction, a distinction between judgments of percepts and judgments of observation. Neither Kant’s judgments of perception nor my judgments of percepts are merely a report of associations, but of objective presentations. Kant’s judgments of experience and my judgments of observation are wider integrations than their thinner brothers in empirical judgment. Judgments of experience include application of Kant’s category of causality; judgments of perception do not. Judgments of observation include basic ontology of Randian identity in conceptual form, including causality in conceptual form, in addition to the bare-bones triple identity that can be found in any predicative judgments, including judgments of percepts. Observation in the course of action or action planning is our home form of empirical judgments. “No one would bother with the conscious judgment that the surface of the puddle exhibits a familiar pattern of ripples; we go straight to the conclusion that it is raining” (Kelley 1986, 209) Observation judgments can proceed without waiting to form percept judgments. Rather, the latter can be formulated subsequently upon percepts that entered the observation and its report. But first, Kant. His examples for judgments of perception that cannot be reformed into judgments of experience were “The room is warm, the sugar sweet, the wormwood repugnant” (1783, 4:299). Kant conceived of predicative judgments, particular or general, as saying “There is something x to which the subject concept applies and to which the predicate concept also applies” or “To everything x for which the subject concept applies, the predicate concept applies” (see Kant 1800, §36, 607). This pattern coincides with the first identity, a particular identity, of the triple identity I have drawn out for predicative existential judgments (Boydstun 1991). The reason Kant gave, it will be recalled, for saying “The room is warm” is a judgment of perception that cannot be reformed into a judgment of experience was: in such a claim, one does not expect others necessarily to find the room warm at this time and one does not expect oneself to find the room warm at all times. I think Kant’s thinking behind that rather flimsy reason was that this judgment, which is on its face about the room, is an attribution of a secondary sensory quality, and such qualities belong, strictly speaking, to the percipient (see Hatfield 2011, 311–22). In Kant’s day, there was no scientific explanation for “The room is warm” in the sense “I am feeling the room warm.” Likewise, there was no explanation for why I feel the stone warm or for why I feel the stone warm by one bare foot, yet with the other bare foot, the blanket on the ground next to the stone not warm. Today we know that specific sensory receptors in our skin for relative environmental warmth (not burning) are sensors of rate of heat flow into the body. We understand now what are the relations of rate of heat flow, temperature difference, and thermal conductivities. More and more, where the x is a percipient subject, its neural physiology is understood. Kant was mistaken to think “I am feeling the room warm” to be a judgment of perception that cannot become a judgment of experience. It can remain a judgment about an individual and her environment, concerning only a particular occasion and based on information at hand only for that individual, yet become one of Kant’s judgments of experience, engaging our thermodynamics and neuroscience. “The stone is warm” can be taken with the sense “The stone’s thermal condition and mine, together with my nervous organization, are causing my feeling of warmth,” or more generally, “Thermal conditions of stone and sentient body are causing a certain state in a sentient organism.” That the perception is explicable by causality in at least a somewhat specific way is sufficient for transforming its reports by judgments of perception into reports by judgments of experience invoking Kant’s concept of causality. Kant’s understanding of the latter had to be vague by our standards, considering that the basics of conductive heat transfer would not be discovered for a decade and two beyond 1783. Also, Kant evidently did not learn of the concept of latent heat that had been established by Joseph Black and Johan Wilcke until 1785–1790 (Friedman 1992, 271–99). Kant likely did know of recent work beginning mathematical treatment of radiative heat transfer, loosely pertinent to warming of the stone by the sun (Friedman 1992, 292n112; 2013, 592n59; Longuenesse 1998, 179n27). One did not need any knowledge of the emerging science of heat in those days to know that sunlight causes a stone to warm, just as surely as one would know that sunlight causes a plant to live. For his judgments of experience, Kant did have in view their potential for having their causes scientifically elaborated, but we have some causal relations in hand before the science of them. Where “The room is warm” is considered as “I am feeling the room warm,” Kant would not countenance the possibility of objectivity or scientific causal articulation. But where “The room is warm” is considered as statement on physical environment in which something or other made the room warm—say, the fire one built in the fireplace—Kant takes us to be making predications and classifications that reflect objective character. If Kant had our modern science, could he not admit the objectivity of “I am feeling the room warm” and do so for his usual reason, namely we are able to give a causal account, even one expressed mathematically, one in which concepts are designated not merely by repeated occasions, but, in his scheme of mind and world, by characteristics given in empirical intuition and by mesh into conceptual hierarchy that is an edifice of the understanding with necessary connections imparted from the transcendental synthetic unity of apperception? No, and that is a serious difference between Kant and Rand. Kant cannot take the position offered in my question and yet hang on to his transcendental idealism. His idealism requires not only that fundamental concepts, the categories, be creatures of the transcendental synthesis of apperception; there must be some formal aspect of empirical intuitions that depend on that same synthesis (A124–25, B137–38, 151–54, 160–63). Specifically, that formal aspect is space, and our geometry of space with its extensive magnitudes and its role in scientific characterization of causal law cannot, in Kant’s philosophy, derive from sensory content in empirical intuitions (e.g., A267–68 B323–24). A wall must be maintained between the extensive magnitudes of outer experience and the merely intensive magnitudes of sensory content (A166–71 B207–13). That wall was breached by Ernst Weber and Gustav Fechner in the nineteenth century, and the neo-Kantians resisted (Heidelberger 2004, 200–207, 214–24; cf. Longuenesse 1998, 310–22). Such a breach suggests a path for eventual causal, mathematically represented explanation of mind and its fundamental concepts by a world and information from that world in its structure without mind. It suggests that formal traction on the world is possible without generation of the world’s fundamental forms by transcendental synthetic unity of apperception. In Kant’s theory of concepts and judgments, we can compare and differentiate perceptual presentations prior to their subsumption under objective concepts (A269 B325), that is, without yet considering whether things (appearances of transcendental objects) in the perceptual presentations do themselves stand in such relations as are found among their presentations (A260–62 B316–18). This alleged priority is backwards, both genetically and analytically, and this is the fundamental difference between what Kant calls a mere judgment of perception (as distinct from a judgment of experience) and what I call a judgment of percept (as distinct from a judgment of observation). It is to Kant’s credit that he would have conceptual representations of perceptual presentations be schematized, whether or not those representations are yet assimilated under his categories. That is a right orientation of mind to the nature of empirical presentations and the objects they present. Even better orientation would not speak of schematized concepts, but of conceptualized schemata in speaking of our schematic concepts. Our actual schematic concepts are more primitive than Kant’s (A142–46 B182–85). They name prelinguistic schemata with which we continue to perceive in our later conceptual development (Arbib, Èrdi, and Szentágothai 1998, 36–40; Flavell 1963, 52–58; Shaw and Hazelett 1986; Johnson 1987; Hampe 2005; Mandler 2010; Raftopoulos 2009, 89–106, 131–66, 311–48; Burge 2010, 319–436). Furthermore, contrary Kant’s view, objects are already given as objects and as existing objects in our perceptions engaging merely elementary, prelinguistic schemata, which is to say, in our percepts and observations (Brewer 2011; Smith 2002, chap. 5; Kelley 1986, 44–50, 141–65; Ghate 2013, 90–92; cf. Hatfield 2009, chap. 7). Kant thought of his judgments of perception as those in which “I merely compare the perceptions and connect them in a consciousness of my state” (1783, 4:300). The judgment “I am feeling the room warm” would fit that bill. We have seen that Kant erred in thinking such a judgment cannot be objective due to it being a judgment about an individual percipient subject. He erred in supposing such a judgment cannot be supplemented with causal information transforming it into what he called a judgment of experience. In truth one cannot assert “I feel the room warm” without schemata of potentials of one’s body, including schemata for one’s potential actions with respect to a room. Although Kant did not seem to realize it, his judgments of perception require more than what he called reflection, more that is, than comparisons and differentiations of presentations without verdict on whether those relations attach to the “appearances” themselves (A260–68 B316–24). Judgments of perception engage the schemata of our percepts and, as well, the causal schemata of our observations, both inherited from our cognitive development prior to language (Carey 2009). This is not to say judgments of perception depend on judgments of experience. Ditto for my judgments of percepts. They engage schemata of percepts and causal schemata of observations. They need not depend on judgments of observations. One can judge “Something moved” or “Something sounded” or “Someone is present” without further specification, without answer to who is present or to what moved or sounded and how. One can judge “Something went past the window” without answering such questions as “What went past the window and how did it convey?” Implicit in the judgment of percept “Something went past the window” are the judgments “That moving thing exists” and “Left-right exists” and “The window exists.” These too are judgments of percepts, dependent on percepts and observations, but not dependent on judgments of observation. In their topic, judgments of observation get beyond conceptualized spatial situation and kinematics, on into conceptualized statics and dynamics. Recall Rand’s definition of knowledge “a mental grasp of a fact(s) of reality, reached either by perceptual observation or by a process of reason based on perceptual observation” (ITOE 35). I have proposed that all perceptual observation that is knowledge is guided partly by conceptualized past experience (§II.C). But we should allow that we have knowledge in our perceptual observations prior to acquiring any concepts. I have said that affirmation and denial have become our powers already with the development of working memory, which is to say already with preconceptual observations (§III.A). So I should generalize and say that all perceptual observation, all of that form of knowledge, is guided partly by conceptualized or schematized past experience. Although I do not count a percept as knowledge, unlike an observation, which is counted as knowledge; a judgment of percept is knowledge-that, which is to say it is knowledge, for a judgment of percept engages not only the percept, but some past observations and concepts in hand. “Any judgment ‘goes beyond’ what is given, by assimilating it to abstract types and attributes, and we are aware of these abstractions only through the integration of other perceptual data” (Kelley 1986, 210; further, 218–24). The merely “logical connection of perceptions in a thinking subject,” Kant’s formula for judgments of perception (1783, 4:298), requires apprehension of existents. Kant does not assent to that requirement, but it is so. There are no conceptual cognitions, no logical connections of anything, without guidance by existence, utilizing our prelinguistic image and action schemata (Prinz 2002, chap. 6; Barsalou 2008; Noë 2006; Churchland 2012). Kant surmises correctly the need for a qualitative distinction between his judgments of perception—a need remaining even when judgments in that class are laden with existence, as I should have them—and his judgments of experience. As we shall see, he did not reach the basis of this distinction. (To be continued.) References Arbib, M. A., Èrdi, P., and J. Szentágothai 1998. Neural Organization – Structure, Function, and Dynamics. MIT. Barsalou, L. W. 2008. Situated Cognition. In The Cambridge Handbook of Situated Cognition. P. Robbins and M. Aydede, editors. Cambridge. Boydstun, S. 1991. Induction on Identity. Objectivity 1(3):1–56. Brewer, B. 2011. Perception and Its Objects. Oxford. Burge, T. 2010. Origins of Objectivity. Oxford. Carey, S. 2009. The Origin of Concepts. Oxford. Churchland, P. M. 2012. Plato’s Camera – How the Physical Brain Captures a Landscape of Abstract Universals. MIT. Flavell, J. H. 1963. The Developmental Psychology of Jean Piaget. D. Van Norstrand. Friedman, M. 1992. Kant and the Exact Sciences. Harvard. ——. 2013. Kant’s Construction of Nature. Cambridge. Ghate, O. 2013. Perceptual Awareness as Presentational. In Concepts and Their Role in Knowledge – Reflections on Objectivist Epistemology. A. Gotthelf and J. G. Lennox, editors. Pittsburgh. Hampe, B., editor, 2005. From Perception to Meaning – Image Schemas in Cognitive Linguistics. Walter de Gruyter. Hatfield, G. 2009. Perception and Cognition. Oxford. ——. 2011. Kant and Helmholtz on Primary and Secondary Qualities. In Primary and Secondary Qualities – The Historical and Ongoing Debate. Oxford. Heidelberger, M. 2004. Nature from Within – Gustav Theodor Fechner and His Psychophysical World View. Pittsburgh. Johnson, M. 1987. The Body in the Mind – The Bodily Basis of Meaning, Imagination, and Reason. Chicago. Kant, I. 1781, 1787. Critique of Pure Reason. W. S. Pluhar, translator. 1996. Hackett. ——. 1783. Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics that Will Be Able to Come Forward as Science. G. Hatfield, translator. In Immanuel Kant – Theoretical Philosophy after 1781. H. Allison and P. Heath, editors. 2002. Cambridge. ——. 1800. Jäsche Logic. In Immanuel Kant – Lectures on Logic. J. M. Young, translator. 1992. Cambridge. Kelley, D. 1986. The Evidence of the Senses. Louisiana State. Longuenesse, B. 1998. Kant and the Capacity to Judge– Sensibility and Discursivity in the Transcendental Analytic of the Critique of Pure Reason. Princeton. Mandler, J. M. 2010. The Spatial Foundations of the Conceptual System. Language and Cognition 2(1):21–44. Noë, A. 2006. Action and Perception. MIT. Raftopoulos, A. 2009. Cognition and Perception – How Do Psychology and Neural Science Inform Philosophy? MIT. Rand, A. 1966–67. Introduction to Objectivist Epistemology. 2nd ed. 1990. Meridian. Shaw, R. E., and W. M. Hazelett 1986. Schemas in Cognition. In Event Cognition: An Ecological Perspective. V. McCabe and G. J. Balzano, editors. Lawrence Erlbaum. Smith, A. D. 2002. The Problem of Perception. Harvard.
  14. III.C Empirical Judgment – Kant and Rand A distinction should be drawn among empirical judgments, Kant proposes in the Prolegomena, between what he calls judgments of perception and judgments of experience. Both are based on immediate sensory perception, on the presentations of sensory intuition, and both require “logical connection of perceptions in a thinking subject” (1783, 4:298). Judgments of perception stop there. An example would be “If the sun shines on the stone, it becomes warm.” That judgment contains no necessity of being always true in the view of Kant, as in the view of Hume (and of Nicholas of Autrecourt in the fourteenth century). The perceptions are found conjoined, and stated to be so, but the connection between them is not a necessary one. To say, however, “The sun warms the stone” is in Kant’s view to state a necessary, though non-analytic connection according to a universal rule. This is an example of what he calls a judgment of experience. These not only have logical connection of perceptions in the thinking subject, or subjective validity, they rest on a pure a priori concept of the understanding and have objective validity (4:298–31). Kant’s judgments of experience have his familiar way of precluding Humean skepticism by reconceiving human experience so as to have a priori factors that are necessary for our having experience, such factors providing the way we can find necessity and universality among empirical truths. Our minds have not put necessities such as causal necessity into things in themselves, only into appearance, which is Kant’s confine for empirical judgment (4:311). In the case of “The sun warms the stone,” one employs the pure category of the understanding causality. Kant’s thought in Prolegomena is that the judgment “If the sun shines on the stone, it becomes warm” contains no use of the category of causality nor any of the other eleven pure categories of the understanding. It does, however, state a relation of conjunction that truly obtains in appearance (4:312). Subjective validity is a type of validity, and according to Kant, this type applies as well to “The room is warm, the sugar sweet, the wormwood repugnant.” These are subjectively valid judgments. Their relations are of sensations in the same subject on such and such occasions. “I do not at all require that I should find it so at every time, or that everyone else should find it just as I do” (4:299). All of our judgments are at first mere judgments of perception; they hold only for us, i.e., for our subject, and only afterwards do we give them a new relation, namely to an object, and intend that the judgment should also be valid at all times for us and for everyone else; for if a judgment agrees with an object, then all judgments of the same object must also agree with one another, and hence the objective validity of a judgment of a experience signifies nothing other than its necessary universal validity. But also conversely, if we find cause to deem a judgment necessarily, universally valid (which is never based on the perception, but on the pure concept of the understanding under which the perception is subsumed), we must then also deem it objective, i.e., as expressing not merely a relation of a perception to a subject, but a property of an object; for there would be no reason why other judgments necessarily would have to agree with mine, if there were not the unity of the object—an object to which they all refer, with which they all agree, and, for that reason, also must harmonize among themselves. (4:298) Notice that in Rand’s view, and mine, identity and its necessity includes more than its case in the central form of causality, dynamic production. “If the sun shines on stone, the stone warms” expresses identities of objects, their actions, and our interactions with them, even if not the law of identity as occasioned in the making of warmth in the stone by the sun. Furthermore, all cases of identity and its necessities, including identity of consciousness, are ways of existence itself and open to our identifications. I said in the preceding section that like Kant’s 1781 distinction of the empirical manifold of appearances in its empirical affinity and the transcendental manifold in its transcendental affinity, Kant’s 1783 distinction between judgments of perception and judgments of experience would provide a defense against Humean skepticism (that is, against his more famous paths to skepticism). The design of this 1783 defense is weaker than the affinity-defense. The latter had empirical apperception being made possible by transcendental apperception. Kant has, however, not made judgments of perception dependent on judgments of experience. Perhaps a case for such dependence could have been made in his system, but he did not attempt it. The Humean skeptic could welcome Kant’s judgments of perception and say “And, oh, by the way, that is all there is to experience and judgments about it.” Gerold Prauss (1971, in German) put forth a reconstruction of Kant’s distinction between judgments of perception and judgments of experience by which the former type of judgment would necessarily depend on the latter, pulling the rug from empiricist skepticism in the usual Kantian way. The judgments of perception are construed as “It seems to me . . .” judgments, putting Kant’s “If sunshine, warm stone” example into this mold. He argues that Kant should not have used the examples of tasting and feeling; they are not in the “It seems to me . . .” mold needed to make judgments of perception depend on judgments of experience (yet remain different from them). Judgments of perception under this construction problematically invoke categorically prescribed unity, though unlike judgments of experience, they do not assert that unity. This would be broadly sensible to Kant and to this Randian, for “It seems to me . . .” is not possible without some “It is . . .”, including “There is me” or “I am.” Robert Pippin examined this reconstruction and concluded that it is unsuccessful in showing that “It seems to me . . .” judgments necessarily invoke, and therefore necessarily depend upon, the categories. Pippin thought the judgment “It seems to me that the sun warms the stone” could be argued by sense-data phenomenalists to mean only “It seems to me that impressions of warmth follow upon impressions of light.” Judgments of perception could still be only combination of elements of awareness and free of reliance on objectification from the categories (Pippin 1982, 177–81). From the window Pippin provides into the reconstruction of Prauss, that reconstructed position looks sound to me, as I think arguments of sense-data phenomenalists are fallacious by way of stolen concepts. Kant would agree with me on that, as shown for example in his arguments in the Critique for the dependence of inner sense upon outer sense (A193 B238, A380, 393, Bxxvii, 275–79). Of course, I would turn the dependence of identity in appearances on identity in knowable mind-independent reality upon Kant’s own conception of appearance in contrast to things in themselves. All the same, Prauss could be right in his proposal of what was sustainable in Kant’s proposal, within his transcendental idealism, of a distinction between mere judgments of perception and judgments of experience. I suspect, however, that there is necessarily in Kant’s system additional dependence on some of his categories, beyond their problematic invocation in statements such as “If the sun shines on the stone, the stone becomes warm.” Beyond Kant, too, such statements invoke objective identities in the world and in ourselves. So with my admittedly sparse knowledge of Prauss’ proposal, I bet it is not an adequate reconstruction of Kant, and so far, I leave open the possibility that Kant does not need the assistance of a reconstruction, only a right construction of what he said and neglected to say. I noted some analogy between Kant’s 1781 distinction of empirical and transcendental affinity and his 1783 distinction between judgments of perception and judgments of experience. However, judgments of perception, in Kant’s express account, do not set up a relatively objective external norm as had the empirical affinity of the manifold of experience. Such judgments have determinacy by their content and by some “logical connection of perceptions in the thinking subject,” but such connection, though determinate and presumably not merely empirical association, seems at first blush not objectively normative (within Kant’s conception of logic, world, and mind). Unlike the empirical affinity of the manifold of appearances, which Kant relegated to the shadows after the first edition of the Critique, judgments of perception do not provide much defense against Berkeley. A radical dependence of judgments of perception on judgments of experience, with the object-fixing character of the latter in view, is desirable as a stay not only against Humean skepticism concerning causality, but against Berkleyean idealism eschewing matter. Short of demonstrating such a dependence, there is a weaker relation of structure that might suffice. Let judgments of perception have always enough of logical connection and of categorical structure such that, given certain sorts of perceptual inputs, they are ready for additional structure by categories so as to become experience in Kant’s object-fixing sense. If such a sketch can be filled in, it might result in a conception of judgments of perception that nip empiricist skepticism in the bud. A purely associative notion of integration in human perception would receive no toehold at its most minimal level affording empirical affirmations in judgment. We shall come back to this sort of Kantian scheme in the sequel in connection with the work of Béatrice Longuenesse (1998). To be sure, with the classical empiricists, the Randian should decline infusion of human perceptual experience with judgmental forms for the objectivity perceptual experience provides. Rather, the identity in and forms of judgment and their various necessities and contingencies must be dependent on structure in the world as attained in or through our elementary perceptions and schemata. The river of the world makes its perceptual channels and its right conceptual and logical channels as well. I analyzed, in §II.D, preconceptual perception as having elementary know-how percepts and wider know-that observations, the latter wielding signs, at least iconic, and the question arises whether there is dependence between these two sorts of formation in perception parallel the possibility and desirability of dependence I have raised between Kant’s judgments of perception and judgments of experience. No. Percepts do not wait on observation for their deliverances of objects and events as existing and in the particular ways those objects and events are. Objects are delivered as objects in the percepts had by us and by other higher animals, regardless of any subsequent weave of observations from percepts or weave of concepts and perceptual judgments from percepts, observations, and schemata. Might looking at the way Kant gets transcendental affinity to be necessary for empirical affinity suggest a way in which Kant’s judgments of perception require judgments of experience, notwithstanding the circumstance that Kant makes no such claim of dependence between these two types of judgment? Kant had empirical affinity of the manifold of appearance radically dependent on transcendental affinity of apperception, which is to say dependent on numerical identity of self (transcendental object) behind its empirically successive states, because this apperception, or awareness of self-identity, alone could provide the necessity of causal relations we know of nature (A113–14) and make possible the unification of all perceptions by their tie to one’s single unified self-consciousness. The unity is manifest in the fact that all one’s perceptions are experienced as one’s own and are an organized part of one’s whole life experience (A110, 121–22). But Kant had also maintained that before the throne of transcendental apperception everything “must necessarily be subject to the universal functions of synthesis, viz., of that synthesis according to concepts in which alone apperception can prove a priori its thoroughgoing and necessary identity. Thus the concept of a cause is nothing but a synthesis according to concepts (where what follows in the time series is synthesized with other appearances); and without such unity, which has it’s a priori rule and which subjects appearances to itself, no thoroughgoing and universal and hence necessary unity of consciousness would be encountered in the manifold of perceptions. But then these perceptions would also not belong to any experience, and hence would be without an object; they would be nothing but a blind play of presentations—i.e., they would be less than a dream.” (A112) Clearly, Kant’s 1783 judgments of perception are not blind play of the imagination and have more determinacy than a dream. For Kant’s idealism, they must be caught in the dynamic of transcendental apperception and necessities of some categories. Kant conceived of the judgments of perception as a “logical connection of perceptions in a thinking subject,” yet not requiring any “pure concept of the understanding,” which is to say not requiring any of Kant’s categories (1783, 4:298). As Pippin observed, Kant is flatly wrong—if his system of transcendental idealism is to stand—in saying that such judgments, or any judgments, could run without force of any of the categories (Pippin 1982, 178). We shall rejoin this error and its possible repair in a Kantian way by Longuenesse in the sequel. There I shall resume the prospect of making all Kant’s judgments of perception dependent on his judgments of experience. Paul Abela notes that even if we allowed Kant’s proposed judgments of perception to be independent of Kantian object-fixing by involvement of any categories or judgments of experience, content of such judgments of perception would yet have the determinacy of magnitude structures Kant thought necessarily attached to empirical intuitions, including to any such intuitions being affirmed in judgments of perception (A162–66 B202–7; Abela 2002, 88n8). I would add, and Abela would agree, that Kant’s magnitude structures of space and time and sensory intensity, in the subject-dependence with which Kant would conceive them (and with their lack of Objectivist generalization to all concrete relations whatsoever), can fortify the validity of judgments of perception, which Kant called subjective validity, but cannot give judgments of perception the armor against empirical skepticism and Berkeleyean idealism had by judgments of experience in their objective validity and object-normativity (see closing paragraphs of my §II.D). I proposed analogy of the relation of Kant’s 1783 judgments of perception to judgments of experience with his 1781 relation of empirical affinity of the manifold of appearance to transcendental affinity. Henry Allison observed another, related analogy between the two kinds of empirical judgment proposed in 1783 and a distinction in 1781. Kant links judgments of perception with consciousness of one’s particular mental state and judgments of experience with “consciousness in general,” which latter consciousness has an object to which anyone’s consciousness anytime ought to agree in complete assurance of truth and by which consciousness is afforded mutual agreement with its own various occasions. Kant’s consciousness in general is here normative, quite like Rand’s “man’s life” is an objective norm with which to structure one’s own life and character. Allison observes that the de facto consciousness of one’s particular mental states bound up in Kant’s judgments of perception is the analogue of his non-normative empirical apperception in the first edition of the Critique. Kant’s normative “consciousness in general” bound up in his judgments of experience is analogue of transcendental apperception in the Critique (Allison 2002, 9–10). Allison would have us take into account the role of transcendental imagination in Kant’s theory of cognition to make best sense of Kant’s distinction of and relation between judgments of perception and judgments of experience on the one hand and, on the other hand, the distinction of and relation between empirical apperception and transcendental apperception in the Critique from A to B (Allison 2004, 173–201). (To be continued.) References Abela, P. 2002. Kant’s Empirical Realism. Oxford. Allison, H. E. 2002. Introduction to Immanuel Kant –Theoretical Philosophy after 1781. H. Allison and P. Heath, editors. Cambridge. ——. 2004 [1983]. Kant’s Transcendental Idealism – An Interpretation and Defense. Revised and enlarged 2nd edition. Yale. Kant, I. 1781, 1787. Critique of Pure Reason. W. S. Pluhar, translator. 1996. Hackett. ——. 1783. Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics that Will Be Able to Come Forward as Science. G. Hatfield, translator. In Theoretical Philosophy after 1781. H. Allison and P. Heath, editors. 2002. Cambridge. Longuenesse, B. 1998. Kant and the Capacity to Judge – Sensibility and Discursivity in the Transcendental Analytic of the Critique of Pure Reason. Harvard. Pippin, R. B. 1982. Kant’s Theory of Form – An Essay on the Critique of Pure Reason. Yale. Prauss, G. 1971. Erscheinung bei Kant. de Gruyter.
  15. III.B Empirical Judgment – Kant and Rand “Anything, even every presentation insofar as one is conscious of it, can be called an object. Yet what this word might signify in the case of appearances, not insofar as they (as presentations) are objects but insofar as they only designate an object, calls for deeper investigation. Insofar as appearances, taken only as presentations, are simultaneously objects of consciousness, they are not at all distinct from apprehension, i.e., from the taking up into the synthesis of imagination; and we must say, therefore, that the manifold of appearances is always produced in the mind successively. If appearances were things in themselves, then no human being could gather from the succession of presentations how their manifold is combined in the object. For we deal, after all, only with our presentations; how things may be in themselves (i.e., apart from taking account of presentations whereby they affect us), is entirely outside our sphere of cognition. Appearances, then, are indeed not things in themselves; but they are all that can be given to us for cognition. And now, whereas the presentation [as such] of the manifold in apprehension is always successive, I am to indicate what sort of combination in time belongs to the manifold in appearances themselves. Thus, e.g., the apprehension of the manifold in the appearance of a house standing before me is successive. Now the question is whether the manifold of this house itself is successive intrinsically {an sich} as well; and this, to be sure, no one will grant. But once I raise my concepts of an object to the level of transcendental signification, the house is not at all a thing in itself, but is only an appearance, i.e. a presentation, whose transcendental object is unknown. What then, do I mean by the question as to how the manifold may be combined in appearance itself (which, after all, is nothing in itself)? Here what lies in the successive apprehension is regarded as presentation; but the appearance that is given to me, despite being nothing more than a sum of these presentations, is regarded as their object, with which the concept that I obtain from the presentations of apprehension is to agree. We soon see that, since agreement of cognition with the object is truth, the question can only be inquiring after the formal conditions of empirical truth; and we see that appearance, as contrasted with the presentations of apprehension, can be presented as an object distinct from them only if it is subject to a rule that distinguishes it from any other apprehension and that makes necessary one kind of combination of the manifold. That [element] in the appearance which contains the condition of this necessary rule of apprehension is the object.” (A189–91 B234–36) Kant was mistaken in supposing that one’s perception of a house is entirely by successive perceptions of parts that objectively are simultaneous. If one views the house from sufficient distance, the simultaneous existence of its parts will be perceived as existing simultaneously. As one approaches the house, keeping it in view, one will eventually need to perceive parts successively that previously were seen together, whole. With our adult, conceptual knowledge, we can say the principles of statics and strengths of materials keep the house together, self-same and standing, as we saw it from afar and saw it continuously right to our close-up of parts viewed successively. But we knew about the simultaneous whole enduring existence of and spatial perspectives of such things as houses or doors or rugs, as well as about our maneuvers and possible views, long before we learned concepts and principles of statics or geometry, indeed long before we had any concepts, abstract principles, or power of predication. Kant would have our judgment “That is a house” depend in part on our percepts, but in part on some pure a priori fundamental concepts, the categories substance, cause of one thing by another, and community of things with each other (A144 B183–84; A182–218 B224–65). That would be sound were those fundamental concepts not taken as a priori, but as somehow derived ultimately from human evolution and development and from preconceptual perceptual observation and successful schemata of things as they are, which is to say, from preconceptual experience of things as they are. But Kant has not allowed those fundamental concepts could be forms of things as they are, rather, as our minds have unwittingly made their form in order that they become objects of our experience and our judgment. In his view, our judgment “That is a house” is a judgment about an object whose spatial form is merely our form of outer sense, an object whose physical traits within that form are from it, where it is as appearance, an objective thing, though not the thing as it is in itself and where objectification is from fundamental concepts concordant with general forms of judgments for objects in experience, concepts schematized, nevertheless themselves independent of experience. I have just ago rebutted one of Kant’s arguments for why a house is not perceivable to us as the thing it is in itself. He had claimed we could not perceive it as an object whose constituting parts were simultaneously with each other, yet we know that condition is so of the house in our experience of it, provided we bring pure concepts from the understanding to our succession of percepts. I denied the first claim in that argument, removing the putative conflict and need for its resolution by the object-prop of cognitive elements passing all perception, namely, pure a priori concepts. I shall elaborate in the sequel Kant’s erroneous conceptions of schemata and of time among our powers and elaborate what further implications this brings to his conception of empirical realism and of truth in empirical judgments. Critique of Pure Reason would come to renown in German lands by end of the decade and would go on to forever change philosophy. But its first edition (1781) received no public comment from the philosophers Kant most respected, and it was painted as Berkeley and Hume warmed over by some philosophers he did not respect. Those early reviewers had not comprehended the new philosophy of the book very far. Though they rightly noted Kant’s affinities with Hume, they failed to notice his radical and original counter to Hume’s skepticism. They realized Kant’s idealism, but failed to notice its serious differences from and its counters to Berkeleyean idealism, wherein “to be is to be perceived,” matter is unreal, and space is not directly apprehended. These circumstances spurred Kant to compose Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics that Will Be Able to Come Forward as Science, a shorter treatment of the subject matter in the Critique. The shorter treatise was aimed at philosophers entering or deep into metaphysics. It was meant to make his transcendental idealism more accessible and to set right the erroneous reviews of the Critique (Kant 1783, 4:255, 261–64; Kuehn 2001, 250–69; Sassen 2000, 1–11; Allison 2002, 6–11; Hatfield 2002, 32–35, 38–42). In this work, Kant addresses his main transcendental question of the Critique “How is synthetic a priori knowledge possible?” in four subdivisions, the second of which will be our special concern in the next installment because it bears heavily on Kant’s theory of empirical judgment. That question is “How is a pure science of nature possible?” I think Kant not only tried to rebut the early reviewers’ portrayal of his idealism as close to Berkeley’s, a mere elevation of it. He searched out amendable elements in the 1781 Critique that might have led to that misperception (see also Beiser 1987, 175; Allison 2002, 462n11). Kant had taken some trouble in the first edition of the Critique to refute Berkeley’s empirical and dogmatic idealism, refute by the lights of his own transcendental idealism (A368–72). Kant had expressly accepted the reality of matter (A370–72, 377; further, Friedman 2013, 43–46, 105–7, 413–17). It is neither a contradictory concept nor an empty one, contrary the arguments of Berkeley (Winkler 2008, 143–45). In Kant’s view, moreover, Berkeley had wrong the nature of space in our perceptions and its relation to material objects in our perception (A376–77; A491–92 B519–21; Emundts 2008, 117–18, 122–26). "External things exist just as well as I myself exist—and both, moreover, on the direct testimony of my self-consciousness. The only difference is that the presentation of myself as the thinking subject is referred merely to inner sense, whereas the presentations designating extended beings are referred also to outer sense. I do not need to make an inference concerning the actuality of external objects any more than I do in regard to the actuality of the object of my inner sense (this object being my thoughts) . . . ." (A370–71) "This is indubitably certain: whether we take the sensations called pleasure and pain, or—for that matter—those of the outer senses, such as colors, heat, etc., it is through perception that the material for thinking any objects of sensible intuition must first be given. This perception, then (to stay, for now, with outer intuitions only), presents something actual in space. For, first, perception is the presentation of an actuality, just as space is the presentation of a mere possibility of being together. Second, this actuality is presented to outer sense, i.e., in space." (A374) Kant nevertheless seemed close to Berkeley, for Kant had confined matter and empirical realism to appearance, a reality whose most fundamental structures, time and space, he took to be from the side of the human subject and whose fundamental form according to necessary causal relations is also from the side of the subject. Kant had maintained that the reality that is matter is a kind of external presentation, called external not because its object is of itself external, but because such perceptions are referred “to the space wherein all things are external to one another, although the space itself is in us” (A370). As an empirical realist, the transcendental idealist “concedes to matter as appearance an actuality that does not need to be inferred but is directly perceived,” for objects of outer sense are not things “distinct from the senses themselves” (A371). In the dual system of empirical realism and transcendental idealism, “these external things—viz. matter—are in all their shapes and changes nothing but mere appearances, i.e., presentations in us, of whose actuality we become conscious directly” (A371–72). Standing against Berkeley’s idealism also in the first edition of the Critique was Kant’s doctrine of the affinity of the manifold, a support of objectivity. The manifold of appearance has an affinity, or kinship, within itself that makes empirical rules of association possible. Call such affinity empirical affinity. It can teach us “that upon one appearance something else usually follows” (A113; also A121–22). This identity Kant would credit to appearance independently of the mind’s gift of causal necessity is a weak one. Behind empirical affinity is another affinity, an identity which is stronger: causal relation, whose necessity has its source in transcendental apperception, that is, in the self-sameness of the mutable, empirical self-conscious self. The synthetic unity of transcendental apperception is the source of the basic unity of every concept—including concepts of space and time, their intuitions having been referred to this apperception (A107)—and of causal law. "Nothing can enter cognition without doing so by means of this original apperception. This identity must, then, necessarily enter into the synthesis of everything manifold in appearances, insofar as this synthesis is to become empirical cognition. Hence appearances are subject to a priori conditions to which their synthesis (of apprehension) must conform thoroughly. But the presentation of a universal condition according to which a certain manifold can be posited (hence posited in one and the same way {a regularity}) is called a rule; and if the manifold must be so posited, then the presentation is called a law. Therefore all appearances stand in a thoroughgoing connection according to necessary laws, and hence stand in a transcendental affinity of which the empirical affinity is the mere consequence." (A113–14; also 122–25) Nature depends on and conforms to our subjective, transcendental apperception because “nature is intrinsically nothing but a sum of appearances, and hence is not a thing in itself, but is merely a multitude of the mind’s presentations” (A114). Supposing even a weak identity in appearance independently of causal necessity brought from the mind to make experience possible, even with a run around such empirical affinity with transcendental affinity, was more realism than Kant could stably accommodate. It is at odds with transcendental idealism (see further, Westphal, chap. 3). Talk of such affinity in the manifold of appearance is largely eliminated in the second edition of the Critique (1787). Mind-independent affinity of the manifold of appearance and transcendental affinity are given no role in the Prolegomena. A transcendental idealist counter to Hume’s skeptical reduction of causal necessities to mere contingent regularities would need to be mounted without that duo. However, absence of mind-independent affinity of the manifold could make Kant’s idealism seem even more like Berkeley’s. Any replacement counter to Hume must also stand pat against Berkeley. In the Prolegomena, Kant introduces a distinction among empirical judgments, between (i) judgments of perception and (ii) judgments of experience. This is a distinction that can, without realist affinity, keep transcendental idealism fast against Hume’s skepticism concerning knowledge of the outer world while not decaying into a subjective idealism such as Berkeley’s. Not for long. I shall relate and assess Kant’s distinction (i) from (ii) in the next installment. We shall then [in the sweet by and by?] examine Kant’s ultimate theory of empirical judgments as it stands in light of the second edition of the Critique (1787), Metaphysical Foundations of Natural Science (1786), and Critique of Judgment (1790). Assessment of Kant’s theory of empirical judgment will conclude this essay, and with all that in hand, I shall return to “Beauty, Goodness, Life,” where it is time to unfold Kant’s theories of esthetic judgment and teleological judgment, including their relation to the type of judgment unfolded in the present study. Before leaving today’s engagement with Kant, I want to say against his doctrine of transcendental apperception. I submit that just as we can have smoothly changing distance from a house in view, thereby holding in perception coexisting parts of the house in a simultaneous whole, which parts can also be perceived successively, so our regular “empirical” self-consciousness has smooth telescope of time, buoying self-identity across episodes and making conceptual life possible (cf. ITOE App. 254–56). (To be continued.) References Allison, H. 2002. Introduction to Immanuel Kant –Theoretical Philosophy after 1781. H. Allison and P. Heath, editors. Cambridge. Beiser, F. C. 1987. The Fate of Reason. Harvard. Emundts, D. 2008. Kant’s Critique of Berkeley’s Concept of Objectivity. In Garber and Longuenesse 2008. Friedman, M. 2013. Kant’s Construction of Nature. Cambridge. Garber, D., and B. Longuenesse, editors, 2008. Kant and the Early Moderns. Princeton. Hatfield, G. 2002. Translator’s Introduction to Kant 1783. Cambridge. Kant, I. 1781, 1787. Critique of Pure Reason. W. S. Pluhar, translator. 1996. Hackett. ——. 1783. Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics that Will Be Able to Come Forward as Science. G. Hatfield, translator. In Theoretical Philosophy after 1781. H. Allison and P. Heath, editors. 2002. Cambridge. Kuehn, M. 2001. Kant – A Biography. Cambridge. Rand, A. 1966–67. Introduction to Objectivist Epistemology. 2nd ed. 1990. Meridian. Sassen, B., editor and translator, 2000. Kant’s Early Critics – The Empiricist Critique of the Theoretical Philosophy. Cambridge. Westphal, K. R. 2004. Kant’s Transcendental Proof of Realism. Cambridge. Winkler, K. P. 2008. Berkeley and Kant. In Garber and Longuenesse 2008.
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