Kant's Ethical Theory

Kant is the most famous of the deontologists -- philosophers who hold that rules are the basis of morality. In Kant's case, there is one overriding rule, which he refers to as the Categorical Imperative. This rule is very similar to what most of us know as the Golden Rule, though it is not simply to be identified with that principle. But to understand all this better, we need some terminology. We distinguished between hypothetical and categorical imperatives. A hypothetical imperative tells us what we must do if we want to achieve some goal. If want to go dancing next weekend, I need to make sure I have a baby-sitter; if you want to solve differential equations, you must learn calculus. A categorical imperative is one that is binding on us absolutely, simply in virtue of the fact that we are rational creatures. And here it is important to remember: we are rational creatures because we have the capacity to let rationality govern our actions; not because we always act rationally. But what might count as a truly binding categorical imperative -- ine that we really would agree that we have to follow? According to Kant, there is only one, though he offers various versions of it. Kant's first formulation of the categorical imperative is: Act only on that maxim through which you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law. The maxim of my action is my intention, or perhaps better yet, my principle of action. In asking whether I can will my maxim to be a universal law, Kant is, in effect, asking us to ask the simple question: "What if everybody did that?" And the question is whether we could consistently or coherently or rationally will that everyone act on the maxim. If the answer is no, then the categorical imperative tells us that the action is wrong. And note: in talking about what we can "will" we are talking about a rational willing; not about mere wishing.

Does this principle actually lead to any concrete results? Kant provides a number of illustrations that are meant to show that it does. The illustrations break in a systematic way: duties to the self vs. duties to others, and perfect duties vs. imperfect duties. The distinction betwen duties to the self and duties to others is clear enough. The pther distinction -- perfect vs. imperfect duties -- needs a little explanation. "Perfect duty" is a technical term. Perfect duties involve actions where we are left with no choice. They are typically limits on what we can do and they are duties because (Kant argues) to do otherwise involves our rational will in some sort of real incoherence or contradiction. A way that he often puts it is in terms of the "system of nature." A system of nature involving the maxim would be impossible -- in other words, we can't consistently imagine what such a world would be like. This is Kant's idea, whether or not his examples are convincing. Imperfect duties typically involve positive actions of some sort, and there is some latitude or role for choice about the details. And with imperfect duties, we can imagine a system of nature that actually operated according to the unacceptable maxim; it's just that we wouldn't rationally will ourselves to be part of it. Kant's clearest example of a perfect duty is the duty not to make a lying promise -- a duty to others. If I adopt a maxim such as "whenever I believe myself short of money, I will borrow money and promise to pay it back, even though I know that this will never be done," I seem to be in something very close to logical trouble. If this maxim became a universal law, the very institution of promising would make the practice of promising impossible. To say "I promise" would not carry any force if it were universally understand that one can speak these words even when one has no intention of doing whatever is "promised." The false promiser wants there to be such things as promises; he wants to extract a benefit from the practice. But if his maxim were made universal, the very thing he wants -- being able to make false promises -- would be impossible. Here the rational will appears to be in clear and sharp conflict with itself; hence we have a perfect duty not to make false promises. Kant's first example of a perfect duty, however, is a duty to ourselves: the duty not to commit suicide. We are asked to imagine someone who is in complete despair and is

thinking about taking his own life. If he is still able to ask the question "would this be wrong?", here's what Kant says he will have to say. His maxim is: "From self-love I make it my principle to shorten my life if staying alive threatens more evil than it happiness." This could not serve as a universal law, according to Kant. Why not? Because the purpose of self-love is to make us keep going -- to "stimulate the furtherance of life," in Kant's phrase. If this same feeling could also lead us to destroy our lives, the very system of nature that embodies it would be incoherent -- the law of nature would be contradictory. So suicide based on self-love can't be moral, the maxim can't be universalized. Is this convincing? Not very. Suppose I have a switch that has the function of turning the heat on if it gets too cold. Then I modify it. The same switch will also turn the heat off if it gets too warm. Is there any contradiction here? Is there anything incoherent about imagining that every furnace should be equipped with such a thing? Obviously not; I've described a thermostat. Self-love, if that be the relevant feeling, might function one way in one set of circumstances and another way in other circumstances. No contradiction there. Please note: my point is not to compare life to temperature or self-love to a thermostat in any deep or significant way. My point is simply that one and the same "device," so to speak, can perform contrary functions (turning heat off, turning it on) without any contradiction in the "system of nature." And the point of this is to cast doubt on Kant's mode of reasoning, though not necessarily on his conclusion. Now Kant might argue that it wouldn't really be self-love if it could lead you to destroy your very self. Perhaps. If so, the answer might be that "self love" is the wrong word for the feeling that the potential suicide is responding to. But a better response to Kant might be that self-love involves respect for one's own dignity. Bare life is one thing; life with a minimum of human dignity, it might be argued, is another. If the prospects for the future are so bad that life will simply be devoid of dignity, it might be argued, genuine self-love would counsel suicide.

PLEASE NOTE: my point is not to argue on behalf of suicide. My point is that Kant's case against it is weak. Other cases might be stronger. And please note as well: to say that in principle there might be circumstances in which suicide was morally acceptable is one thing; to say that most people who feel suicidal are really in those circumstances is another. Most people who feel suicidal are almost certainly not in situations in which their futures are thoroughly and genuinely bleak. So return to the lying promise. Here Kant seems on much firmer ground. Still, one can wonder. Suppose, to borrow an example from Plato, that I have borrowed a weapon from you, promising to return it. You come to me, clearly bent on doing harm to an innocent person. You ask for your weapon back. Am I really obliged to give it to you? If the categorical imperative really says yes, then some might say: so much the worse for the categorical imperative. Still, this doesn't deal directly with Kant's example. Kant is talking about a case in which I intend to make a lying promise for selfish reasons. In the case we are considering, we go back on a promise because circumstances have changed in some drastic way and I am trying to discharge a different moral duty: protecting innocent life. This is a case in which I wasn't lying at all when I made the promise. What if we change the example? Suppose you are determined to hurt some particular person and I promise to help you by driving you to your victim's dorm. However, what I really intend to do is drive you to the authorities. I make a lying promise to stop you from doing wrong. Is _that acceptable? Kant would say no. He would say no because according to him everyone, including wrongdoers is to be treated with a certain sort of moral respect. We may punish the wrongdoer, but that is to treat him or her as responsible; it is to respect his or her moral dignity. But deliberately deceiving the wrongdoer is another matter, according to Kant. What if we deceive in order to bring about a greater good? Not good enough, according to Kant. Doing that is using the person we deceive merely as a means and not as an end. It is not using them as an end because it leaves them in a position in which they can't give

their rational consent. They can't consent because they don't have the information that consent requires. This, of course, brings us to the formulation of the categorical imperative that O'Neill stresses, but we will turn to that later. First, a note on imperfect duties. Kant gives two examples. First, we are obliged to develop our talents. Why? Because they were given to us for a purpose, and it would be irrational to ignore this purpose. Whether you find that convincing or not, we should note: the general imperative to develop your talents is an imperfect duty. It doesn't tell us just which talents and to what extent. Since we can't spend all our time developing our talents, we can't be obliged to develop them as far as they are capable of being developed. We can only fulfill this obligation to a greater or lesser extent, depending on other things. But with perfect duties, it is in our power to execute them perfectly. I can avoid lying. Kant's other example of an imperfect duty is the duty a duty to others -- the duty of beneficence or benevolence. This is a duty according to Kant because we recognize rationally that if we were in need, we would hope others would help us. A will that ignored benevolence would be in conflict with itself, though not in strict logical conflict, perhaps. But the duty to be benevolent is imperfect; just how much benevolence we should or even can exercise depends on circumstances not simply within our control. We turn now to Onora O'Neill, who gives us another way of thinking abut Kant's ethical views. She focusses on a different version of the categorical imperative. It is the formula of the end in itself. Always treat humanity, whether in your own person or that of another, never simply as a means but always at the same time as an end. Kant believes that this version of the categorical imperative is equivalent to the version we discussed above. Just why he thinks this and whether his argument is fully successful will not be our issue here. Instead, we will explore this version of the principle. As we pointed out in class, Kant is not saying that we can never use a person as a means. He is saying that we can never use a person simply as a means. When I go to the bank, I

use the teller as a means of completing my transaction. But the arrangement is voluntary, mutually beneficial and shows no disrespect for anyone. I am respecting the teller's dignity. I am recognizing the teller as an end in him- or herself. If I lie, I am putting the person I lie to in a position of simply being subservient to my own agenda. This is true even if I think I am lying for their own good. I have substituted my judgement for theirs and in doing that, I have not respected their own freedom and dignity. Even more clearly, if I force a person to do something, whether for my good or even for theirs, I am also not respecting their dignity. Consequentialist views, and in particular utilitarianism, can, in principle, make all sorts of other ends take precedence over considerations of justice. For the Kantian, O'Neill stresses, duties of justice are the most important. Treating others as mere means is a form of injustice. Still, refraining from treating people as means is a negative matter; promoting the plans and goals of others -- promoting their happiness -- is part of what is required if we are fully to treat others as ends in themselves. Does this mean that we have to promote every single legitimate goal of everyone we come in contact with? No. No one could live their life that way. Indeed, it would make no sense. It would leave no time for one's own goals, which, for the Kantian are no less important than those of other people, even if they are also no more important. So the Kantian will say: if you do no injustice, you have not acted immorally -- you have not acted wrongly. But to complete your duty, you must make room in your life for beneficence. How much beneficence? Kant doesn't really say. If the formula of the end in itself is just a different version of the categorical imperative, then it still operates from the premise that maxims -- intentions -- are what matter ultimately. But this may suggest that the Kantian is utterly unconcerned with results, and as O'Neill points out, this isn't really so. Her example is clear enough: if a couple claims that they intend not to have children, but don't exercise birth control of any sort, it is not reasonable to take their intention seriously. I may not be able to carry out my intentions.

But if I am in a position to try to, it would be absurd to believe I really have "good intentions" if I don't even try to do anything about them. For Kantians, respect for persons is fundamental. What makes humans -- and possibly some other creatures -- of infinite value is the fact that we are rational: we can plan and choose and anticipate our futures. Utilitarians, on the other hand, rank happiness as the highest good. This poses a sort of paradox, according to O'Neill: on Utilitarian morality, it may sometimes be acceptable to sacrifice certain bearers of happiness -- persons -- for the sake of the happiness of others. This is ruled out for the Kantian: it does not treat people as ends in themselves. Kantianism may seem not to give much in the way of positive moral advice; utilitarianism and other consequentialist theories tell us a great deal about our positive duties. But while they tell us a great deal in theory, it may extremely difficult in practice to know if we are promoting the best consequences. On the other hand, O'Neill points out, it is usually not difficult to tell when we are treating others unjustly. And so Kantianism gives us clearer guidance in situations where information about consequences is scarce.