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What Is
Wrong With Kant's Philosophy?
Background
essay
Introduction
David Hume
(1711-1776), native of Edinburgh and a product of
its university, denied the existence of all
substantial reality, material or spiritual. In his
Treatise on Human Nature he declares that
man's mind is only a collection of perceptions.
These perceptions are either impressions or
ideas. Impressions are sensations of
pleasure, pain, awareness of qualities and
relations. Ideas are but the faintly remembered
images of impressions formerly experienced. This
vague philosophy has a very modern sound: a
collection of impressions collected nowhere;
contents of a mind which is not a container.
Here we have the smug unintelligibility of the
modern neo-realist's definition of mind as "a
cross-section of the environment." Hume holds that
the only thing that can be said, with full
certainty, to exist is our perceptions (impressions
and ideas). In and among these perceptions there is
no causal connection; indeed, there is no knowable
causality anywhere. If things outside us really do
exist, there is no proof of their existence
available to us.
Kant Comes Out of His
"Dogmatic Slumber"
Over in Germany, in his native city of
Koenigsberg, a professor named
Immanuel Kant
(1724-1804) read Hume's argument with dismay, and
finally tossed them aside as "dogmatic dreams."
Hume takes away all grounds of certitude; the best
a man might have of him is a thin probability, and
this, as Kant noticed, is not usable knowledge at
all. What a man needs, said Kant, and what he can
have is truly scientific knowledge, that is,
knowledge that is universally and necessarily true
and reliable.
The experiences of the senses is individual,
and, no matter how consistently and for how long a
time the senses find a fact solid, there is always
the possibility that the next experience will show
it to vary. So far Kant agrees with Hume:
sense-experience cannot give the mind more than
probability. But, said Kant, there is another
element in knowledge, an a priori and
subjective element which is anterior to
sense-experience and in no wise dependent on it.
This is the element which enables us to have true
and certain knowledge and to add item to item with
complete security in building up the edifice of
science.
We pause here to settle the meaning of important
terms. Knowledge that we obtain through experience
is a posteriori knowledge, that is, it comes
after experience and is dependent upon it.
Now, it is the Aristotelian, Thomistic, Scholastic,
and Contextual Realist doctrine that all
human knowledge is of this type; no knowledge is
born in us; no item of knowledge exists in man
except such as has been acquired.
Kant, however, insisted on the existence of
certain "forms" or items of knowledge (space and
time, certain regulative judgments, and certain
master-ideas) as inborn and a priori. Of
course, there is a legitimate use of the terms a
priori and a posteriori (literally "from
beforehand" and "from afterwards") in describing
types of argument. But there is no legitimate use
of a priori as a term descriptive of
knowledge itself. Kant uses the term so, and he
follows the despised Hume so far as to make the
knowledge described by this term a very part of the
mind of man, an element of its being and not
merely an element of its equipment.
To answer the basic question, "What can I know
with scientific certitude?" Kant wrote his book
The Critique of Pure Reason. In this work,
Kant assigns to man a threefold knowing-power:
sensibility, intellect, reason. Knowable things, on
the other hand, are of two classes: appearances of
things or phenomena, and essences of things
or noumena. Man, by sensibility (that is, by
his senses) takes in the phenomena of the world
about him. Somehow, we know not how, the phenomena
set his sense-power to work; we dare not say that
the senses perceive even the phenomena as these
exist in nature; we may only say that somehow
phenomena stir the senses to act.
Now the formal constituent, the essential
element, of the sensing-power or sensibility (that
is, its character or "shape") is the twofold
determination of space-and-time. Man has
sense-experiences "here" and "now," and he recalls
them as "there" and "then." But this conditioning
of phenomena by space and time is
man's own contribution to the knowledge-act. Space
and time in no wise represent things, nor are they
things; they are the inborn a priori element
of the sensing-power. Just as a curiously shaped
bottle will take in liquid or powder and conform
the mass of the substance taken in to its own
shape, so the sensing-power, which has the
shape of space-and-time, takes in the action
of phenomena on the senses and shapes these
phenomena accordingly. The result (that is,
phenomena-conditioned-by-space-and-time) is called
empirical intuition.
Now, just as phenomena stir the sensibility to
act, so the finished products of sensation (that
is, empirical intuitions) stir the next knowing
power, the intellect, to act. The intellect
takes in the empirical intuitions and conforms them
to its shape, its own inborn a priori
forms. These forms are four sets of triple
judgments, called the twelve categories.
These are like grooves or molds into which the
molten metal of empirical intuitions is poured, and
the resultant piece of knowledge is, in each case,
a judgment.
The four master categories (each of which has
three branches) are: quantity, quality,
relation, and modality. Thus the judgment "A
comes from B as effect from cause" is not the
objective knowing by the mind of a state of fact;
it is merely the result of the action of
intellect turning the sense-findings (or
empirical intuitions) of A and B through the groove
(or category) of relation, and through that
branch of relation called cause-effect.
Once more, just as the finished products of
sensibility (that is, empirical intuitions) stir
the intellect to the act of judging, so the
judgments of the intellect stir the reason
to its action. The innate a priori shape of
reason is determined by three master-ideas:
the idea of the self, the idea of the
no-self, the idea of the super-self. In
other words, the three regulative ideas of reason
are the ideas of self, the world, and God. The
judgments of intellect are poured through the
threefold mold of reason, and the result is
reasoned knowledge.
Now, the essential thing about knowledge, when
we attempt to fix its value on the score of truth
and certitude, centers in judgments. After
all, reason merely handles judgments and learns
from them. Upon judgments we must fix our
attention. There are two types of judgment, a
priori and a posteriori. Looked at in
another way, there are two other types:
synthetic and analytic. We already know
the meaning of a priori and a
posteriori, and indeed, according to Kant, all
judgments are a priori. We must look at the
other terms.
A judgment is rightly called synthetic
when it is "put together," for that is precisely
what the word synthetic means. If I make the
judgment, "John is sick," I have a synthetic
judgment; the predicate does not necessarily belong
to the subject, but I put it with the
subject because I have learned from John or from
his doctor that it happens to belong there.
But if I make the judgment, "A circle is round," I
have an analytic judgment; for by analyzing
the subject, by studying it and knowing just what
it is, I learn that the predicate used
belongs there, since a circle to be a circle
must be round.
Kant held that the only judgment which can give
absolute certitude must be a priori, since,
indeed, he admits no other type. But, he maintains,
an a priori judgment that is analytic
marks no advance in knowledge. To build up science,
there must be growth, development, advancement.
Hence there must be synthetic judgments
which are also a prior.
The synthetic a priori
judgment may be called the heart of Kant's
philosophy. And we may say now in passing that the
synthetic a priori judgment is a contradiction in
terms and in thought; it is an
impossibility.
The examples offered by Kant are either (in our
terminology) a posteriori judgments, or they
are analytic judgments. For instance, Kant
says that the judgment "five plus seven equals
twelve" is a synthetic a priori judgment.
It is nothing of the
kind. It is a
simple analytic judgment. Replace the
words or the figures for five and seven and twelve
by an equivalent number of dots or strokes; you
will have exactly the same thing on either side of
the equals-mark. The judgment is as plainly
analytic as "A is A."
Let us cast back a moment, and make a summing up
of the Kantian theory of human knowing:
- Phenomena of bodily things somehow stir
man's sensibility to action, and sense takes in
phenomena in its own way, shaping and
conditioning them by its innate forms of
space-and-time, thus producing empirical
intuitions.
- The empirical intuitions somehow stir man's
intellect to take them in and run them through
its forms or categories, thus producing
judgments, the truly certain and valuable
judgment always being synthetic a
priori.
- Finally, the judgments of intellect somehow
stir the reason to take them in and view them in
the light of its regulative ideas of self, the
world, and God.
Notice that the sole point of connection of
man's knowledge with reality outside the mind is
the vague influence of phenomena on the
sensing-power. From that point on, the whole
process of knowing, and its products, are man's
own. Here is
idealism,
here is
subjectivism
with a vengeance. And Kant plainly asserts that the
noumena or essences of things cannot be known by
man. The phenomenon is not strictly knowable, but
it moves the sense to act; the noumenon is not
knowable at all. The noumenon (Das Ding an
sich) lies outside the reach of mortal
man.
So Kant is as
subjectivistic
as Hume ever dared be. And yet this is the man who
threw Hume's book aside with the sneer, "Dogmatic
dreams!" What singular smugness could have made
Kant suppose that he was dealing with the problem
of knowledge critically and not
dogmatically? Yet he calls his system
"transcendental criticism."
Metaphysics Becomes
Impossible
Since we cannot know noumena, the science of
metaphysics, the very heart of philosophy as the
Greeks and Scholastics and other followers of the
Perennial Philosophy understand it, becomes
illusory and impossible.
Is it not strange that
a man of Kant's undoubted intellectual gifts did
not notice here an absurd contradiction? Why, he
has just finished explaining to us, in great
detail, the whole nature of the human mind; and now
he concludes that we cannot know the nature of
anything!
And his reasoning about the character of the
mind, and about the nature of phenomena and
noumena, is actually interwoven with terms and
thoughts metaphysical; yet he says that
metaphysics is illusory and impossible!
So much for Kant's Critique of Pure
Reason. It will be noticed that the doctrine
contained in this work opens the way to
complete
skepticism, and therewith it opens
the way to a denial of moral obligation and of
purpose in human existence. For if nothing can be
known with certitude, as skepticism maintains, then
there are no certainties in the realm of morals,
religion, or social duties; then there is no
certainty that man is made for a purpose at all, or
even that man exists.
Whether Kant noticed this fact, and, as a
Lutheran, deplored it, or whether (as has been
said) his Emperor summoned him and demanded that he
furnish a philosophical basis for morals and
religion, cannot be said. But Kant wrote a second
book, The Critique of Practical Reason, to
supply the defect mentioned.
The Critique of
Practical Reason
Kant said that pure reason is not enough
for man; he must live by practical reason as
well. In his first book, Kant sought the answer to
the question, "What can man know with certitude?"
The answer was, "He can have true certitude by his
synthetic a priori judgments." But this is
mere statement. The real answer to which Kant's
work inclines the thinking mind is,
"Man can know nothing with
certitude."
Kant's second book, The Critique of Practical
Reason, answered the question, "Are there
certitudes, outside the reach of pure reason, that
I must recognize and act upon?" Kant answers with
an emphatic, There are." These truths are known
with certitude by practical reason. First, a
man is aware of duty. He knows with clear
certitude that murder and stealing are wrong, and
that he has the indispensable duty of avoiding such
things. He knows that there are certain loyalties
which indicate things that he is in duty bound to
observe and do. By his practical reason, man is
aware of the inner command, "Thou shalt" and "Thou
shalt not." This command is categorical,
that is, it is unconditional; it is not, "Do this,
if you please," "Avoid that when convenient"; it is
a matter of simple "Do" and "Avoid." Kant calls
this inner voice The Categorical
Imperative.
A Christian would call it conscience, and would
explain that it is the voice of reason (the same
reason with which we work out a theorem in
geometry) pronouncing on the agreement or
disagreement of a situation (here and now to be
decided) with the norm or law of morality. Kant's
Categorical Imperative is like conscience in
its clear decision and unequivocal command; it is
entirely unlike conscience in its blindly
unreasoning assumption of authority.
First, then, man's awareness of duty is a
certitude; it is a certitude because of The
Categorical Imperative. Now, this Categorical
Imperative is a law. But a law must come
from a lawmaker. Neither I myself have set up my
Categorical Imperative (for it often orders me to
do what I should like to avoid, and to shun what I
would willingly do) nor has it come from any
earthly king, court, or senate, for it speaks with
an authority that is absolute and not one supported
by temporal sanctions of fine or imprisonment. It
is a supreme law; it is an absolute law. It must
come then from the Supreme and Absolute Being. That
is, it must come from God. Therefore, God
exists.
Further, the Categorical Imperative makes a man
aware, not only of duty, but of the fact that he
must freely embrace the performance of duty. He is
aware that he can disregard, although he cannot be
ignorant of, this law of conduct. In a word, he is
aware, and with true certitude, that he is a
free and responsible being.
Again, man, a free and responsible being, is
aware that by freely acting in accordance with the
commands of the Categorical Imperative he
perfects himself. And he is aware that this
self-perfecting may go on through the longest life
without reaching the limits of its capability.
Therefore, he concludes, he can go on becoming more
and more perfect forever. In other words,
man is aware of endless existence before him; he
knows he has an immortal soul. Thus out of
the cunning device of The Categorical
Imperative Kant draws the doctrines that
satisfy his Lutheranism (or his Emperor), although
his basic philosophy of "transcendental criticism"
knows nothing of these doctrines. He sets forth, in
orthodox fashion, the practical truths of
the existence of God, the fact of moral duty, the
immortality of the soul, the freedom of the human
will.
Note: Kant wrote a third book, The Critique
of Aesthetic Judgment, in which he brings out
the attractiveness of moral goodness in a manner
more striking than that of The Critique of
Practical Reason.
Despite errors,
absurdities, and contradictions, Kant's philosophy
-- notably that of The Critique of Pure
Reason -- has exercised a tremendous influence
upon human thinking for almost two
centuries.
It exhibits the roots of those weaknesses we
have come to regard as characteristic of what is
loosely called "the German philosophy."
- It refuses to face reality (witness
the wholly subjectivistic character of
knowledge);
- It unduly stresses the ego (witness
the inner and autonomous character of knowledge
and morality);
- It proclaims the perfectibility of the
will, upon which the followers of Kant were
soon to harp most strongly -- and from Nietzsche
to Hitler we are to hear of "the will to power,"
the will which makes "the superman" and "the
master race."
A Final Word on
Kant
In offering and defending his low estimate of
pure reason as incapable of achieving certitude
(apart from the mysterious judgments which are
synthetic a priori) Kant appeals to his
so-called "antinomies" or "contradictions." He
holds that when pure reason tries to apply the
categories in the abstract realm of logical
inference (whereas its business is to pour findings
through fixed molds) it gets beyond itself and
comes a cropper. It finds that it can prove, with
equal facility, things directly opposed. Thus, he
says, it can prove that space is finite, and also
infinite; it can prove matter divisible and
indivisible; it can prove human freedom existent
and nonexistent; it can prove that God is necessary
and also non-necessary.
In all this, and in the
examples offered in proof of it, Kant is entirely
gratuitous and sophistical. Besides, he stands
self-condemned in using logical reasoning to
establish the fact that logical reasoning is
useless.
We merely mention the "antinomies" because we
discern in them an element of materialism in
the heart of an idealistic theory. This
materialism was to appear in full form in later
philosophies which took inspiration, at least in
part, from the doctrines of Immanuel Kant.
Kant's philosophy is fundamentally wrong and is
one of the major contributors to the intellectual
insanity which we see today.
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