In the Critique of Pure Reason, Kant famously unites reason’s interest in three questions: What can I know? What should I do? What may I hope? (A805/ B833). Kant’s framing of these questions seems to suggest that they are exhaustive. To answer them fully, we must plumb to the depths of Kant’s theoretical and moral philosophy, scrutinising reason’s foundations, limitations, and insatiable demands. Given the seemingly exhaustive nature of the Canon’s questions, it may come as something of a surprise when Kant adds a fourth question in his Logic: ‘What is the human being?’ (L-Log, 9: 25).
Of course, this anthropological question implicates the other inquiries, as we cannot address the question of human nature without exploring our faculties of knowledge, our moral vocation, and our hope for the realisation of the highest good. Seen in this light, the question of human nature brings the entirety of Kant’s philosophy into focus and it forces us to confront one of the greatest tensions in his work – the ‘incalculable gulf’ separating the realms of nature and freedom.
This fabulous collection of essays, edited by Luigi Filieri and Sofie Møller, provides a rich exploration of Kant’s anthropological question. The editors have done an excellent job of collecting contributions from eminent Kant scholars whose research is indispensable to anyone working in this area. In addition to the book’s thematic unity, many of the contributors have connections with Paul Guyer (his former students, collaborators, etc.). The essays engage both critically and sympathetically with Guyer’s work, and he replies to them in a postscript.
The book addresses Kant’s anthropological question by breaking it down into three parts. It begins with five essays discussing ‘The Legislation of the Realm of Freedom’. For the most part, these papers tackle normative questions, exploring the moral dimensions of human nature. From this perspective, the question is not about what humanity is; it is about what ‘humans ought to make of themselves’ (p. 6). The second part of the book is dedicated to the ‘realm of nature’ with three essays exploring this theme. The book concludes with four essays on Kant’s attempt to bridge the gulf between the realms of nature and freedom.
After a brief introduction from the editors, the book begins with a polemical essay from Allen Wood, titled ‘Freedom within Nature’. As the title of his paper suggests, Wood argues that we must find human freedom here in the empirical realm; we should not think of free agency as a property that belongs to our timeless, noumenal selves. Kant claims that the reality of practical freedom is proven empirically on a daily basis. Transcendental freedom, on the other hand, is the capacity of the will to spontaneously beget a causal series from itself (von selbst). Wood has spent decades arguing that we should abandon our attempts to understand transcendental freedom, as we must heed Kant’s repeated warnings that freedom is incomprehensible. In the Third Antinomy, Kant argues that transcendental freedom is not necessarily inconsistent with the determinism of the empirical world, but he is adamant that we should not take this as a licence to speculate about how freedom works. I am sympathetic to Wood’s view, but I would note that his paper gives rise to one of the interesting tensions in the book, as it puts him at odds with other commentators. In the postscript, Guyer comments on the fact that Wood’s essay implies that Guyer’s reading is ‘not naturalistic enough’, whereas Heiner Klemme, three chapters after Wood, argues that Guyer’s ‘approach is too naturalistic’ (p. 233).
The second essay, written by Marcus Willaschek, focuses explicitly on Kant’s fourth question: ‘What is the human being?’. Willaschek shows how the issue of human nature unites the three questions of the Canon, and he argues that we should not think of this question in descriptive terms. Unlike the rest of the animal kingdom, we humans have the freedom to make ourselves into anything that we choose. Considering our possession of such radical freedom, if we try to understand human nature in terms of ‘a fixed set of descriptive characteristics’, then Willaschek believes we are destined to fail (p. 38). Some readers of Kant’s Anthropology may think that the answer is straightforward; in that text, Kant describes the human being as a rational animal. But Willaschek encourages us to avoid static descriptions of our essence. Instead, we should interpret the question in normative terms: it is not asking us who we are but who we ought to be. It is our moral vocation that defines us, both individually and collectively. Kant tells us that we should not think of humanity as something we are given; we must make ourselves worthy of the title ‘humanity’ through culture and the cultivation of our capacities (MS, 6: 392).
Sofie Møller is particularly emphatic about this last point in the book’s third essay, titled ‘What is Humanity?’. Throughout his writings, Kant defines humanity as the rational agent’s ability to set and pursue her own ends. But this capacity must be nurtured and developed. Humanity does not spring from the head of Zeus, armour-clad and fully grown. Parents, education, and the state all play vital roles in the process of developing humanity over time. Thus, Møller defends Guyer’s ‘interpretation of humanity as the aim of teleological development’ (p. 57). The end goal, according to Guyer, is human freedom. Once again, humanity is not seen as a fixed trait that we possess but as a teleological ideal toward which we should strive.
In the fourth essay, Heiner Klemme disagrees rather sharply with some of Guyer’s views about humanity. The main point of disagreement is whether we should consider reason or freedom to be the foundational value of Kant’s moral philosophy. In Guyer’s view, the bedrock of Kant’s moral philosophy is the aim to maximise the freedom of all humankind (p. 233). The state exists to safeguard our freedom; education cultivates our capacities (so that we can successfully exercise our freedom); etc. According to this reading, the value of reason is instrumental rather than intrinsic. Guyer claims that freedom alone has intrinsic value and that reason is valuable only insofar as it helps us figure out how to maximise freedom. Guyer also believes that we should make Kant’s project compatible with naturalism by rejecting transcendental idealism and transcendental freedom. Klemme disagrees on both counts, offering textual evidence for the claim that reason is the source of moral value and philosophical reasons to resist the temptation to naturalise Kant in the way that Guyer does.
In the final essay of the first section, Herlinde Pauer-Studer also emphasises her points of disagreement with Guyer. One of the central disputes concerns the categorical imperative. Guyer takes the formula of humanity (FH) to be foundational, but Pauer-Studer prioritises the formula of the realm of ends (FRE). If we prioritise FRE, we begin by thinking of ourselves through the moral ideal of rational agents agreeing on shared laws, and, through this lens, we come to see the universality of maxims and respect for humanity ‘as particular ways of spelling out the normative elements embraced by FRE’ (p. 85). Pauer-Studer’s paper is well argued, and Guyer offers some reconciliation in the postscript as he finds many points of agreement in her essay.
At this point, the book transitions to the second section: ‘The Legislation of the Realm of Nature’. This is the shortest section of the book, and some readers might be disappointed to find only three essays here. But the disappointment is softened by the fact that each essay in this section makes an enlightening contribution to the volume.
Rolf-Peter Horstmann’s essay on infinite magnitudes feels a bit disconnected from the central theme of the collection, but one can still find a unifying thread. Horstmann traces the development of Kant’s thinking about infinite magnitudes from the first Critique to the third in an attempt to better understand our epistemic faculties. Like Guyer, Horstmann also objects to Kant’s claim that we can have an intuition of space as an infinite, given magnitude. Horstmann aims to resolve this problem by thinking of space as a symbol that represents an infinite magnitude. The conceptual resources of the third Critique enable Kant to claim that undemonstrable concepts can be represented through symbolic exhibition (p. 110). Kant uses this idea ‘to establish a relation between aesthetic beauty and morality’, but Horstmann repurposes it to bolster Kant’s claims from the Transcendental Aesthetic (p. 109).
Konstantin Pollok discusses the role of inter-subjectivity in Kant’s critical philosophy. Outside the world of Kant scholarship, there are many who take issue with the Enlightenment conception of autonomy, and Kant is frequently maligned in such discussions. So it is refreshing to find an essay that seeks to correct the unfair caricature of Kant as someone who sees man as an island. Although Kant certainly endorsed the Enlightenment ideal of thinking for oneself, the judgements of others have important parts to play in each Critique. In some instances, readers may already be familiar with the role of inter-subjectivity (e.g., universal communicability and sensus communis). But Pollok does a fantastic job of explaining how inter-subjectivity functions in Kant’s epistemology and ethics as well. When taking something to be true (Fürwahrhalten), our ability to communicate with others and seek universal assent is what precisely separates ‘conviction’ from ‘mere persuasion’ (A821/ B849).
Gabriele Gava’s paper dovetails nicely with Pollok’s, as Gava makes the distinction between conviction and persuasion the central focus of his paper. Once again, inter-subjectivity is crucial. The objective sufficiency of conviction is evidenced by the fact that we can communicate it to others and receive confirmation. Gava points out how this feature of conviction separates it from other species of belief: ‘We do not need a similar tool for belief (or practical conviction) because there is no risk of our being wrong when evaluating our practical grounds’ (p. 144). By offering a novel interpretation of Kant’s taxonomy of Fürwahrhalten, Gava is able to find common ground with both fallibilist and infallibilist readings of Kant.
It is here that the reader comes to the final section of the book, which consists of four essays discussing Kant’s attempt to bridge the gulf between nature and freedom. Unsurprisingly, the third Critique takes centre stage. These essays explore how Kant’s aesthetics, teleology, religion, and philosophy of history are meant to connect the realms of nature and freedom.
This section begins with Reed Winegar’s essay on Kant’s response to Leibniz’s theological question: ‘Why Is There Something, Rather than Nothing?’. According to the Leibnizian view (which Kant often reads through the lens of Baumgarten’s Metaphysics), ‘God creates the world to mirror his own perfection’ (p. 156). Leibniz claims that we can achieve this through our a priori knowledge of God and his perfections. Of course, Kant denies that we can have such knowledge, so he must find a different answer to this question. In the third Critique, Kant claims that the morality of human beings should be thought of as the final end of creation, as we are the only creatures on the planet endowed with freedom. Winegar points out that Kant did not merely deny that we could have knowledge of God and his perfections; Kant thinks that such knowledge would actually be bad for us (p. 165). Knowing God in this way would make it impossible for us to act from the motive of duty, as we would conform our actions to the moral law only out of fear. Thus, when Kant ‘denies knowledge to make room for faith’, he is also making room for moral worth.
Questions about history and the final end of creation are raised once again in Rachel Zuckert’s wonderful contribution to the volume. Zuckert reads Kant’s philosophy of history as a way of coping with suffering, giving us reason to hope rather than fall into despair. Seen in this light, Zuckert invites us to read Kant’s philosophy of history as a ‘secularized problem of evil’ (p. 179). Although she does not explicitly mention Hegel (whose name does not appear anywhere in the volume), one can certainly see this reading as an anticipation of Hegel’s attempt to treat humanity’s progression towards freedom as a theodicy that helps us come to terms with the slaughter-bench of history. After discussing how Kant wrestled with Rousseau’s criticisms of civilisation, Zuckert draws on Kant’s concept of reflective judgement to defend her view. When we see history in this light, we find support not only for our moral commitments, but we can escape the existential despair that might result from the ‘apparent unrealizability of individual happiness and pointlessness of cultural striving’ (p. 185).
The last two essays of the book delve into the debate between Mendelssohn and Kant, further developing the themes of history and progress. Mendelssohn rejects the notion of collective human progress, instead suggesting that humanity ‘continually fluctuates within fixed limits’ (p. 190). Melissa Merritt explains how Kant’s rejection of Mendelssohn’s position draws on resources from Stoicism, and she argues against Guyer’s rejection of Kant’s optimism. Given the doctrine of radical evil, the moral progress of individuals is not inevitable. We can choose evil instead of good. This leads Guyer to the conclusion that the collective progress of humanity is not inevitable either. Merritt believes that Guyer does not give enough credit to the role of social institutions (e.g. the republican state, the ethical community of the church, etc.). In her view, we can secure the progress of humanity by establishing the ethical community. In the postscript, Guyer pushes back against Merritt by arguing that Kant’s theory of individual freedom undercuts the claim that any institution ‘can make moral progress inevitable’ (p. 251).
In the final essay, Anne Pollok draws out the differences between Kant and Mendelssohn’s aesthetics, using judgements of the ‘ugly’ as a test case. In keeping with the theme of the book, Pollok frames her essay as a response to Guyer, and she suggests some refinements to his position. Guyer stresses the similarities between Kant and Mendelssohn on this issue, highlighting the fact that ‘both of them take the beautiful out of the object’ (p. 210). Pollok agrees on this point, but she shows how their accounts differ in important ways. For starters, Mendelssohn’s account relocates beauty in human feeling, whereas Kant finds it in the free play of faculties belonging to the transcendental subject. What is more, Mendelssohn’s aesthetics leaves room for judgements that have determinate content (e.g. judgements of human perfection), and, as Pollok points out, this is ‘hardly in accordance with Kant’s requirements for aesthetic play’ (p. 216).
This book is teeming with valuable resources for anyone interested in Kant’s thoughts on humanity. If we want answers to our fundamental questions about human nature, we have no choice but to head down some long, winding roads. This book will serve as an indispensable guide for anyone who chooses to embark on that journey.
