1785
FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES OF THE METAPHYSIC OF MORALS
by Immanuel Kant
translated by Thomas Kingsmill Abbott
* * *
FIRST SECTION
TRANSITION FROM THE COMMON RATIONAL KNOWLEDGE OF MORALITY TO THE PHILOSOPHICAL
Nothing can possibly be conceived in the world, or even out of it, which
can be called good, without qualification, except a good will.
Intelligence, wit, judgement, and the other talents of the mind, however
they may be named, or courage, resolution, perseverance, as
qualities of temperament, are undoubtedly good and desirable in many
respects; but these gifts of nature may also become extremely bad
and mischievous if the will which is to make use of them, and which,
therefore, constitutes what is called character, is not good. It is the
same with the gifts of fortune. Power, riches, honour, even health,
and the general well-being and contentment with one's condition which
is called happiness, inspire pride, and often presumption, if there
is not a good will to correct the influence of these on the mind, and with
this also to rectify the whole principle of acting and adapt it to
its end. The sight of a being who is not adorned with a single feature
of a
pure and good will, enjoying unbroken prosperity, can never give pleasure
to an impartial rational spectator. Thus a good will appears to
constitute the indispensable condition even of being worthy of happiness.
There are even some qualities which are of service to this good will
itself and may facilitate its action, yet which have no intrinsic
unconditional value, but always presuppose a good will, and this qualifies
the esteem that we justly have for them and does not permit us
to regard them as absolutely good. Moderation in the affections and
passions, self-control, and calm deliberation are not only good in
many respects, but even seem to constitute part of the intrinsic worth
of the person; but they are far from deserving to be called good
without qualification, although they have been so unconditionally praised
by the ancients. For without the principles of a good will, they
may become extremely bad, and the coolness of a villain not only makes
him far more dangerous, but also directly makes him more
abominable in our eyes than he would have been without it.
A good will is good not because of what it performs or effects, not
by its aptness for the attainment of some proposed end, but simply by
virtue of the volition; that is, it is good in itself, and considered
by itself is to be esteemed much higher than all that can be brought about
by it in favour of any inclination, nay even of the sum total of all
inclinations. Even if it should happen that, owing to special disfavour
of
fortune, or the niggardly provision of a step-motherly nature, this
will should wholly lack power to accomplish its purpose, if with its
greatest efforts it should yet achieve nothing, and there should remain
only the good will (not, to be sure, a mere wish, but the summoning
of all means in our power), then, like a jewel, it would still shine
by its own light, as a thing which has its whole value in itself. Its
usefulness or fruitfulness can neither add nor take away anything from
this value. It would be, as it were, only the setting to enable us to
handle it the more conveniently in common commerce, or to attract to
it the attention of those who are not yet connoisseurs, but not to
recommend it to true connoisseurs, or to determine its value.
* * *
We have then to develop the notion of a will which deserves to be highly
esteemed for itself and is good without a view to anything
further, a notion which exists already in the sound natural understanding,
requiring rather to be cleared up than to be taught, and which in
estimating the value of our actions always takes the first place and
constitutes the condition of all the rest. In order to do this, we will
take
the notion of duty, which includes that of a good will, although implying
certain subjective restrictions and hindrances. These, however, far
from concealing it, or rendering it unrecognizable, rather bring it
out by contrast and make it shine forth so much the brighter.
I omit here all actions which are already recognized as inconsistent
with duty, although they may be useful for this or that purpose, for
with these the question whether they are done from duty cannot arise
at all, since they even conflict with it. I also set aside those actions
which really conform to duty, but to which men have no direct inclination,
performing them because they are impelled thereto by some
other inclination. For in this case we can readily distinguish whether
the action which agrees with duty is done from duty, or from a selfish
view. It is much harder to make this distinction when the action accords
with duty and the subject has besides a direct inclination to it.
For example, it is always a matter of duty that a dealer should not
over charge an inexperienced purchaser; and wherever there is much
commerce the prudent tradesman does not overcharge, but keeps a fixed
price for everyone, so that a child buys of him as well as any
other. Men are thus honestly served; but this is not enough to make
us believe that the tradesman has so acted from duty and from
principles of honesty: his own advantage required it; it is out of
the question in this case to suppose that he might besides have a direct
inclination in favour of the buyers, so that, as it were, from love
he should give no advantage to one over another. Accordingly the action
was done neither from duty nor from direct inclination, but merely
with a selfish view.
On the other hand, it is a duty to maintain one's life; and, in addition,
everyone has also a direct inclination to do so. But on this account
the of anxious care which most men take for it has no intrinsic worth,
and their maxim has no moral import. They preserve their life as
duty requires, no doubt, but not because duty requires. On the other
band, if adversity and hopeless sorrow have completely taken away
the relish for life; if the unfortunate one, strong in mind, indignant
at his fate rather than desponding or dejected, wishes for death, and yet
preserves his life without loving it- not from inclination or fear,
but from duty- then his maxim has a moral worth.
To be beneficent when we can is a duty; and besides this, there are
many minds so sympathetically constituted that, without any other
motive of vanity or self-interest, they find a pleasure in spreading
joy around them and can take delight in the satisfaction of others so far
as it is their own work. But I maintain that in such a case an action
of this kind, however proper, however amiable it may be, bas
nevertheless no true moral worth, but is on a level with other inclinations,
e.g., the inclination to honour, which, if it is happily directed to
that which is in fact of public utility and accordant with duty and
consequently honourable, deserves praise and encouragement, but not
esteem. For the maxim lacks the moral import, namely, that such actions
be done from duty, not from inclination. Put the case that the
mind of that philanthropist were clouded by sorrow of his own, extinguishing
all sympathy with the lot of others, and that, while he still has
the power to benefit others in distress, he is not touched by their
trouble because he is absorbed with his own; and now suppose that he
tears himself out of this dead insensibility, and performs the action
without any inclination to it, but simply from duty, then first has his
action its genuine moral worth. Further still; if nature bas put little
sympathy in the heart of this or that man; if he, supposed to be an
upright man, is by temperament cold and indifferent to the sufferings
of others, perhaps because in respect of his own he is provided with
the special gift of patience and fortitude and supposes, or even requires,
that others should have the same- and such a man would
certainly not be the meanest product of nature- but if nature had not
specially framed him for a philanthropist, would he not still find in
himself a source from whence to give himself a far higher worth than
that of a good-natured temperament could be? Unquestionably. It is
just in this that the moral worth of the character is brought out which
is incomparably the highest of all, namely, that he is beneficent, not
from inclination, but from duty.
To secure one's own happiness is a duty, at least indirectly; for discontent
with one's condition, under a pressure of many anxieties and
amidst unsatisfied wants, might easily become a great temptation to
transgression of duty. But here again, without looking to duty, all men
have already the strongest and most intimate inclination to happiness,
because it is just in this idea that all inclinations are combined in one
total. But the precept of happiness is often of such a sort that it
greatly interferes with some inclinations, and yet a man cannot form any
definite and certain conception of the sum of satisfaction of all of
them which is called happiness. It is not then to be wondered at that a
single inclination, definite both as to what it promises and as to
the time within which it can be gratified, is often able to overcome such
a
fluctuating idea, and that a gouty patient, for instance, can choose
to enjoy what he likes, and to suffer what he may, since, according to
his calculation, on this occasion at least, be has not sacrificed the
enjoyment of the present moment to a possibly mistaken expectation of
a happiness which is supposed to be found in health. But even in this
case, if the general desire for happiness did not influence his will,
and supposing that in his particular case health was not a necessary
element in this calculation, there yet remains in this, as in all other
cases, this law, namely, that he should promote his happiness not from
inclination but from duty, and by this would his conduct first
acquire true moral worth.
* * *
The second proposition is: That an action done from duty derives its
moral worth, not from the purpose which is to be attained by it, but
from the maxim by which it is determined, and therefore does not depend
on the realization of the object of the action, but merely on the
principle of volition by which the action has taken place, without
regard to any object of desire. It is clear from what precedes that the
purposes which we may have in view in our actions, or their effects
regarded as ends and springs of the will, cannot give to actions any
unconditional or moral worth. In what, then, can their worth lie, if
it is not to consist in the will and in reference to its expected effect?
It
cannot lie anywhere but in the principle of the will without regard
to the ends which can be attained by the action. For the will stands
between its a priori principle, which is formal, and its a posteriori
spring, which is material, as between two roads, and as it must be
determined by something, it that it must be determined by the formal
principle of volition when an action is done from duty, in which case
every material principle has been withdrawn from it.
The third proposition, which is a consequence of the two preceding,
I would express thus: Duty is the necessity of acting from respect for
the law. I may have inclination for an object as the effect of my proposed
action, but I cannot have respect for it, just for this reason, that
it is an effect and not an energy of will. Similarly I cannot have
respect for inclination, whether my own or another's; I can at most, if
my
own, approve it; if another's, sometimes even love it; i.e., look on
it as favourable to my own interest. It is only what is connected with
my
will as a principle, by no means as an effect- what does not subserve
my inclination, but overpowers it, or at least in case of choice
excludes it from its calculation- in other words, simply the law of
itself, which can be an object of respect, and hence a command. Now
an action done from duty must wholly exclude the influence of inclination
and with it every object of the will, so that nothing remains which
can determine the will except objectively the law, and subjectively
pure respect for this practical law, and consequently the maxim* that I
should follow this law even to the thwarting of all my inclinations.
*A maxim is the subjective principle of volition. The objective principle
(i.e., that which would also serve subjectively as a practical
principle to all rational beings if reason had full power over the
faculty of desire) is the practical law.
Thus the moral worth of an action does not lie in the effect expected
from it, nor in any principle of action which requires to borrow its
motive from this expected effect. For all these effects- agreeableness
of one's condition and even the promotion of the happiness of
others- could have been also brought about by other causes, so that
for this there would have been no need of the will of a rational being;
whereas it is in this alone that the supreme and unconditional good
can be found. The pre-eminent good which we call moral can
therefore consist in nothing else than the conception of law in itself,
which certainly is only possible in a rational being, in so far as this
conception, and not the expected effect, determines the will. This
is a good which is already present in the person who acts accordingly,
and we have not to wait for it to appear first in the result.
* * *
Let the question be, for example:
May I when in distress make a promise with the intention not to keep
it? I readily distinguish here between the two significations which
the question may have: Whether it is prudent, or whether it is right,
to make a false promise? The former may undoubtedly of be the case.
I see clearly indeed that it is not enough to extricate myself from
a present difficulty by means of this subterfuge, but it must be well
considered whether there may not hereafter spring from this lie much
greater inconvenience than that from which I now free myself, and
as, with all my supposed cunning, the consequences cannot be so easily
foreseen but that credit once lost may be much more injurious to
me than any mischief which I seek to avoid at present, it should be
considered whether it would not be more prudent to act herein
according to a universal maxim and to make it a habit to promise nothing
except with the intention of keeping it. But it is soon clear to me
that such a maxim will still only be based on the fear of consequences.
Now it is a wholly different thing to be truthful from duty and to be
so from apprehension of injurious consequences. In the first case,
the very notion of the action already implies a law for me; in the second
case, I must first look about elsewhere to see what results may be
combined with it which would affect myself. For to deviate from the
principle of duty is beyond all doubt wicked; but to be unfaithful
to my maxim of prudence may often be very advantageous to me,
although to abide by it is certainly safer. The shortest way, however,
and an unerring one, to discover the answer to this question whether
a lying promise is consistent with duty, is to ask myself, "Should
I be content that my maxim (to extricate myself from difficulty by a false
promise) should hold good as a universal law, for myself as well as
for others? and should I be able to say to myself, "Every one may
make a deceitful promise when he finds himself in a difficulty from
which he cannot otherwise extricate himself?" Then I presently become
aware that while I can will the lie, I can by no means will that lying
should be a universal law. For with such a law there would be no
promises at all, since it would be in vain to allege my intention in
regard to my future actions to those who would not believe this
allegation, or if they over hastily did so would pay me back in my
own coin. Hence my maxim, as soon as it should be made a universal
law, would necessarily destroy itself.
I do not, therefore, need any far-reaching penetration to discern what
I have to do in order that my will may be morally good.
Inexperienced in the course of the world, incapable of being prepared
for all its contingencies, I only ask myself: Canst thou also will that
thy maxim should be a universal law? If not, then it must be rejected,
and that not because of a disadvantage accruing from it to myself or
even to others, but because it cannot enter as a principle into a possible
universal legislation, and reason extorts from me immediate
respect for such legislation. I do not indeed as yet discern on what
this respect is based (this the philosopher may inquire), but at least
I
understand this, that it is an estimation of the worth which far outweighs
all worth of what is recommended by inclination, and that the
necessity of acting from pure respect for the practical law is what
constitutes duty, to which every other motive must give place, because
it is the condition of a will being good in itself, and the worth of
such a will is above everything.
* * *
SECOND SECTION
TRANSITION FROM POPULAR MORAL PHILOSOPHY TO THE METAPHYSIC OF MORALS
If we have hitherto drawn our notion of duty from the common use of
our practical reason, it is by no means to be inferred that we have
treated it as an empirical notion. On the contrary, if we attend to
the experience of men's conduct, we meet frequent and, as we ourselves
allow, just complaints that one cannot find a single certain example
of the disposition to act from pure duty. Although many things are
done in conformity with what duty prescribes, it is nevertheless always
doubtful whether they are done strictly from duty, so as to have a
moral worth. Hence there have at all times been philosophers who have
altogether denied that this disposition actually exists at all in
human actions, and have ascribed everything to a more or less refined
self-love. . . .
In fact, it is absolutely impossible to make out by experience with
complete certainty a single case in which the maxim of an action,
however right in itself, rested simply on moral grounds and on the
conception of duty. Sometimes it happens that with the sharpest
self-examination we can find nothing beside the moral principle of
duty which could have been powerful enough to move us to this or that
action and to so great a sacrifice; yet we cannot from this infer with
certainty that it was not really some secret impulse of self-love, under
the false appearance of duty, that was the actual determining cause
of the will. We like them to flatter ourselves by falsely taking credit
for
a more noble motive; whereas in fact we can never, even by the strictest
examination, get completely behind the secret springs of action;
since, when the question is of moral worth, it is not with the actions
which we see that we are concerned, but with those inward principles
of them which we do not see.
* * *
In this problem we will first inquire whether the mere conception of
a categorical imperative may not perhaps supply us also with the
formula of it, containing the proposition which alone can be a categorical
imperative; for even if we know the tenor of such an absolute
command, yet how it is possible will require further special and laborious
study, which we postpone to the last section.
When I conceive a hypothetical imperative, in general I do not know
beforehand what it will contain until I am given the condition. But
when I conceive a categorical imperative, I know at once what it contains.
For as the imperative contains besides the law only the
necessity that the maxims* shall conform to this law, while the law
contains no conditions restricting it, there remains nothing but the
general statement that the maxim of the action should conform to a
universal law, and it is this conformity alone that the imperative
properly represents as necessary.
*A maxim is a subjective principle of action, and must be distinguished
from the objective principle, namely, practical law. The former
contains the practical rule set by reason according to the conditions
of the subject (often its ignorance or its inclinations), so that it is
the
principle on which the subject acts; but the law is the objective principle
valid for every rational being, and is the principle on which it
ought to act that is an imperative.
There is therefore but one categorical imperative, namely, this: Act
only on that maxim whereby thou canst at the same time will that it
should become a universal law.
Now if all imperatives of duty can be deduced from this one imperative
as from their principle, then, although it should remain undecided
what is called duty is not merely a vain notion, yet at least we shall
be able to show what we understand by it and what this notion means.
Since the universality of the law according to which effects are produced
constitutes what is properly called nature in the most general
sense (as to form), that is the existence of things so far as it is
determined by general laws, the imperative of duty may be expressed thus:
Act as if the maxim of thy action were to become by thy will a universal
law of nature.
We will now enumerate a few duties, adopting the usual division of them
into duties to ourselves and ourselves and to others, and into
perfect and imperfect duties.
1. A man reduced to despair by a series of misfortunes feels wearied
of life, but is still so far in possession of his reason that he can ask
himself whether it would not be contrary to his duty to himself to
take his own life. Now he inquires whether the maxim of his action could
become a universal law of nature. His maxim is: "From self-love I adopt
it as a principle to shorten my life when its longer duration is
likely to bring more evil than satisfaction." It is asked then simply
whether this principle founded on self-love can become a universal law
of nature. Now we see at once that a system of nature of which it should
be a law to destroy life by means of the very feeling whose
special nature it is to impel to the improvement of life would contradict
itself and, therefore, could not exist as a system of nature; hence
that maxim cannot possibly exist as a universal law of nature and,
consequently, would be wholly inconsistent with the supreme principle
of all duty.
2. Another finds himself forced by necessity to borrow money. He knows
that he will not be able to repay it, but sees also that nothing
will be lent to him unless he promises stoutly to repay it in a definite
time. He desires to make this promise, but he has still so much
conscience as to ask himself: "Is it not unlawful and inconsistent
with duty to get out of a difficulty in this way?" Suppose however that
he
resolves to do so: then the maxim of his action would be expressed
thus: "When I think myself in want of money, I will borrow money
and promise to repay it, although I know that I never can do so." Now
this principle of self-love or of one's own advantage may perhaps
be consistent with my whole future welfare; but the question now is,
"Is it right?" I change then the suggestion of self-love into a universal
law, and state the question thus: "How would it be if my maxim were
a universal law?" Then I see at once that it could never hold as a
universal law of nature, but would necessarily contradict itself. For
supposing it to be a universal law that everyone when he thinks himself
in a difficulty should be able to promise whatever he pleases, with
the purpose of not keeping his promise, the promise itself would
become impossible, as well as the end that one might have in view in
it, since no one would consider that anything was promised to him,
but would ridicule all such statements as vain pretences.
3. A third finds in himself a talent which with the help of some culture
might make him a useful man in many respects. But he finds himself
in comfortable circumstances and prefers to indulge in pleasure rather
than to take pains in enlarging and improving his happy natural
capacities. He asks, however, whether his maxim of neglect of his natural
gifts, besides agreeing with his inclination to indulgence, agrees
also with what is called duty. He sees then that a system of nature
could indeed subsist with such a universal law although men (like the
South Sea islanders) should let their talents rest and resolve to devote
their lives merely to idleness, amusement, and propagation of their
species- in a word, to enjoyment; but he cannot possibly will that
this should be a universal law of nature, or be implanted in us as such
by a natural instinct. For, as a rational being, he necessarily wills
that his faculties be developed, since they serve him and have been given
him, for all sorts of possible purposes.
4. A fourth, who is in prosperity, while he sees that others have to
contend with great wretchedness and that he could help them, thinks:
"What concern is it of mine? Let everyone be as happy as Heaven pleases,
or as be can make himself; I will take nothing from him nor
even envy him, only I do not wish to contribute anything to his welfare
or to his assistance in distress!" Now no doubt if such a mode of
thinking were a universal law, the human race might very well subsist
and doubtless even better than in a state in which everyone talks of
sympathy and good-will, or even takes care occasionally to put it into
practice, but, on the other side, also cheats when he can, betrays
the rights of men, or otherwise violates them. But although it is possible
that a universal law of nature might exist in accordance with that
maxim, it is impossible to will that such a principle should have the
universal validity of a law of nature. For a will which resolved this
would contradict itself, inasmuch as many cases might occur in which
one would have need of the love and sympathy of others, and in
which, by such a law of nature, sprung from his own will, he would
deprive himself of all hope of the aid he desires.
These are a few of the many actual duties, or at least what we regard
as such, which obviously fall into two classes on the one principle
that we have laid down. We must be able to will that a maxim of our
action should be a universal law. This is the canon of the moral
appreciation of the action generally. Some actions are of such a character
that their maxim cannot without contradiction be even
conceived as a universal law of nature, far from it being possible
that we should will that it should be so. In others this intrinsic
impossibility is not found, but still it is impossible to will that
their maxim should be raised to the universality of a law of nature, since
such
a will would contradict itself It is easily seen that the former violate
strict or rigorous (inflexible) duty; the latter only laxer (meritorious)
duty. Thus it has been completely shown how all duties depend as regards
the nature of the obligation (not the object of the action) on the
same principle.
If now we attend to ourselves on occasion of any transgression of duty,
we shall find that we in fact do not will that our maxim should be
a universal law, for that is impossible for us; on the contrary, we
will that the opposite should remain a universal law, only we assume the
liberty of making an exception in our own favour or (just for this
time only) in favour of our inclination. Consequently if we considered
all
cases from one and the same point of view, namely, that of reason,
we should find a contradiction in our own will, namely, that a certain
principle should be objectively necessary as a universal law, and yet
subjectively should not be universal, but admit of exceptions. As
however we at one moment regard our action from the point of view of
a will wholly conformed to reason, and then again look at the
same action from the point of view of a will affected by inclination,
there is not really any contradiction, but an antagonism of inclination
to
the precept of reason, whereby the universality of the principle is
changed into a mere generality, so that the practical principle of reason
shall meet the maxim half way. Now, although this cannot be justified
in our own impartial judgement, yet it proves that we do really
recognise the validity of the categorical imperative and (with all
respect for it) only allow ourselves a few exceptions, which we think
unimportant and forced from us.
* * *