---

The Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysics of Morals (1785)
                by Immanuel Kant

Excerpts courtesy of  http://www.knuten.liu.se/~bjoch509/works/kant/princ_morals.txt
 
 
 

The Good Will

    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. . .
 

    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. . .
 

It is in this manner, undoubtedly, that we are to understand those

passages of Scripture also in which we are commanded to love our

neighbour, even our enemy. For love, as an affection, cannot be

commanded, but beneficence for duty's sake may; even though we are not

impelled to it by any inclination- nay, are even repelled by a natural

and unconquerable aversion. This is practical love and not

pathological- a love which is seated in the will, and not in the

propensions of sense- in principles of action and not of tender

sympathy; and it is this love alone which can be commanded.
 

        The Second and Third Propositions of Morality

    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. . . .
 

    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.
 

            The Supreme Principle of Morality: The Categorical Imperative

      But what sort of law can that be, the conception of which must

determine the will, even without paying any regard to the effect

expected from it, in order that this will may be called good

absolutely and without qualification? As I have deprived the will of

every impulse which could arise to it from obedience to any law, there

remains nothing but the universal conformity of its actions to law

in general, which alone is to serve the will as a principle, i.e., I

am never to act otherwise than so that I could also will that my maxim

should become a universal law. Here, now, it is the simple

conformity to law in general, without assuming any particular law

applicable to certain actions, that serves the will as its principle

and must so serve it, if duty is not to be a vain delusion and a

chimerical notion. The common reason of men in its practical

judgements perfectly coincides with this and always has in view the

principle here suggested. 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.

  Thus, then, without quitting the moral knowledge of common human

reason, we have arrived at its principle. And although, no doubt,

common men do not conceive it in such an abstract and universal

form, yet they always have it really before their eyes and use it as

the standard of their decision. Here it would be easy to show how,

with this compass in hand, men are well able to distinguish, in

every case that occurs, what is good, what bad, conformably to duty or

inconsistent with it . . .
 

            Imperatives: Hypothetical and Categorical

     Everything in nature works according to laws. Rational beings

alone have the faculty of acting according to the conception of

laws, that is according to principles, i.e., have a will. Since the

deduction of actions from principles requires reason, the will is

nothing but practical reason. . .
 

      The conception of an objective principle, in so far as it is

obligatory for a will, is called a command (of reason), and the

formula of the command is called an imperative.

      All imperatives are expressed by the word ought [or shall], and

thereby indicate the relation of an objective law of reason to a will,

which from its subjective constitution is not necessarily determined

by it (an obligation). . .
 

     Now all imperatives command either hypothetically or

categorically. The former represent the practical necessity of a

possible action as means to something else that is willed (or at least

which one might possibly will). The categorical imperative would be

that which represented an action as necessary of itself without

reference to another end, i.e., as objectively necessary. . .
 

    If now the action is good only as a means to

something else, then the imperative is hypothetical; if it is

conceived as good in itself and consequently as being necessarily

the principle of a will which of itself conforms to reason, then it is

categorical. . .
 

     Accordingly the hypothetical imperative only says that the action is

good for some purpose, possible or actual. In the first case it is a

problematical, in the second an assertorial practical principle. The

categorical imperative which declares an action to be objectively

necessary in itself without reference to any purpose, i.e., without

any other end, is valid as an apodeictic (practical) principle. . .
 
 
 

        First Formulation of the Categorical Imperative: Universal Law
 

      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. . .
 

Four Illustrations
 
 

    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.*
 
 

  *It must be noted here that I reserve the division of duties for a

future metaphysic of morals; so that I give it here only as an

arbitrary one (in order to arrange my examples). For the rest, I

understand by a perfect duty one that admits no exception in favour of

inclination and then I have not merely external but also internal

perfect duties. This is contrary to the use of the word adopted in the

schools; but I do not intend to justify there, as it is all one for my

purpose whether it is admitted or not.
 
 

  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 . . .
 

            Second Formulation of the Categorical Imperative: Humanity as End in Itself
 
 

  The will is conceived as a faculty of determining oneself to

action in accordance with the conception of certain laws. And such a

faculty can be found only in rational beings. Now that which serves

the will as the objective ground of its self-determination is the end,

and, if this is assigned by reason alone, it must hold for all

rational beings. On the other hand, that which merely contains the

ground of possibility of the action of which the effect is the end,

this is called the means. The subjective ground of the desire is the

spring, the objective ground of the volition is the motive; hence

the distinction between subjective ends which rest on springs, and

objective ends which depend on motives valid for every rational being.

Practical principles are formal when they abstract from all subjective

ends; they are material when they assume these, and therefore

particular springs of action. The ends which a rational being proposes

to himself at pleasure as effects of his actions (material ends) are

all only relative, for it is only their relation to the particular

desires of the subject that gives them their worth, which therefore

cannot furnish principles universal and necessary for all rational

beings and for every volition, that is to say practical laws. Hence

all these relative ends can give rise only to hypothetical

imperatives.

  Supposing, however, that there were something whose existence has in

itself an absolute worth, something which, being an end in itself,

could be a source of definite laws; then in this and this alone

would lie the source of a possible categorical imperative, i.e., a

practical law.

  Now I say: man and generally any rational being exists as an end

in himself, not merely as a means to be arbitrarily used by this or

that will, but in all his actions, whether they concern himself or

other rational beings, must be always regarded at the same time as

an end. All objects of the inclinations have only a conditional worth,

for if the inclinations and the wants founded on them did not exist,

then their object would be without value. But the inclinations,

themselves being sources of want, are so far from having an absolute

worth for which they should be desired that on the contrary it must be

the universal wish of every rational being to be wholly free from

them. Thus the worth of any object which is to be acquired by our

action is always conditional. Beings whose existence depends not on

our will but on nature's, have nevertheless, if they are irrational

beings, only a relative value as means, and are therefore called

things; rational beings, on the contrary, are called persons,

because their very nature points them out as ends in themselves,

that is as something which must not be used merely as means, and so

far therefore restricts freedom of action (and is an object of

respect). These, therefore, are not merely subjective ends whose

existence has a worth for us as an effect of our action, but objective

ends, that is, things whose existence is an end in itself; an end

moreover for which no other can be substituted, which they should

subserve merely as means, for otherwise nothing whatever would possess

absolute worth . . .
 
 

     If then there is a supreme practical principle or, in respect of the

human will, a categorical imperative, it must be one which, being

drawn from the conception of that which is necessarily an end for

everyone because it is an end in itself, constitutes an objective

principle of will, and can therefore serve as a universal practical

law. The foundation of this principle is: rational nature exists as an

end in itself. Man necessarily conceives his own existence as being

so; so far then this is a subjective principle of human actions. But

every other rational being regards its existence similarly, just on

the same rational principle that holds for me:* so that it is at the

same time an objective principle, from which as a supreme practical

law all laws of the will must be capable of being deduced. Accordingly

the practical imperative will be as follows: So act as to treat

humanity, whether in thine own person or in that of any other, in

every case as an end withal, never as means only. We will now

inquire whether this can be practically carried out. . .
 

            The Kingdom of Ends
 
 

    The conception of the will of every rational being as one which must

consider itself as giving in all the maxims of its will universal

laws, so as to judge itself and its actions from this point of view-

this conception leads to another which depends on it and is very

fruitful, namely that of a kingdom of ends.

  By a kingdom I understand the union of different rational beings

in a system by common laws. Now since it is by laws that ends are

determined as regards their universal validity, hence, if we

abstract from the personal differences of rational beings and likewise

from all the content of their private ends, we shall be able to

conceive all ends combined in a systematic whole (including both

rational beings as ends in themselves, and also the special ends which

each may propose to himself), that is to say, we can conceive a

kingdom of ends, which on the preceding principles is possible.

  For all rational beings come under the law that each of them must

treat itself and all others never merely as means, but in every case

at the same time as ends in themselves. Hence results a systematic

union of rational being by common objective laws, i.e., a kingdom

which may be called a kingdom of ends, since what these laws have in

view is just the relation of these beings to one another as ends and

means. It is certainly only an ideal.

  A rational being belongs as a member to the kingdom of ends when,

although giving universal laws in it, he is also himself subject to

these laws. He belongs to it as sovereign when, while giving laws,

he is not subject to the will of any other.

  A rational being must always regard himself as giving laws either as

member or as sovereign in a kingdom of ends which is rendered possible

by the freedom of will. He cannot, however, maintain the latter

position merely by the maxims of his will, but only in case he is a

completely independent being without wants and with unrestricted power

adequate to his will.

  Morality consists then in the reference of all action to the

legislation which alone can render a kingdom of ends possible. This

legislation must be capable of existing in every rational being and of

emanating from his will, so that the principle of this will is never

to act on any maxim which could not without contradiction be also a

universal law and, accordingly, always so to act that the will could

at the same time regard itself as giving in its maxims universal laws.

If now the maxims of rational beings are not by their own nature

coincident with this objective principle, then the necessity of acting

on it is called practical necessitation, i.e., duty. Duty does not

apply to the sovereign in the kingdom of ends, but it does to every

member of it and to all in the same degree.

  The practical necessity of acting on this principle, i.e., duty,

does not rest at all on feelings, impulses, or inclinations, but

solely on the relation of rational beings to one another, a relation

in which the will of a rational being must always be regarded as

legislative . . .
 

    In the kingdom of ends everything has either value or dignity.

Whatever has a value can be replaced by something else which is

equivalent; whatever, on the other hand, is above all value, and

therefore admits of no equivalent, has a dignity.

  Whatever has reference to the general inclinations and wants of

mankind has a market value; whatever, without presupposing a want,

corresponds to a certain taste, that is to a satisfaction in the

mere purposeless play of our faculties, has a fancy value; but that

which constitutes the condition under which alone anything can be an

end in itself, this has not merely a relative worth, i.e., value,

but an intrinsic worth, that is, dignity.

  Now morality is the condition under which alone a rational being can

be an end in himself, since by this alone is it possible that he

should be a legislating member in the kingdom of ends. Thus

morality, and humanity as capable of it, is that which alone has

dignity. Skill and diligence in labour have a market value; wit,

lively imagination, and humour, have fancy value; on the other hand,

fidelity to promises, benevolence from principle (not from

instinct), have an intrinsic worth. Neither nature nor art contains

anything which in default of these it could put in their place, for

their worth consists not in the effects which spring from them, not in

the use and advantage which they secure, but in the disposition of

mind, that is, the maxims of the will which are ready to manifest

themselves in such actions, even though they should not have the

desired effect. These actions also need no recommendation from any

subjective taste or sentiment, that they may be looked on with

immediate favour and satisfaction: they need no immediate propension

or feeling for them; they exhibit the will that performs them as an

object of an immediate respect, and nothing but reason is required

to impose them on the will; not to flatter it into them, which, in the

case of duties, would be a contradiction. This estimation therefore

shows that the worth of such a disposition is dignity, and places it

infinitely above all value, with which it cannot for a moment be

brought into comparison or competition without as it were violating

its sanctity.

  What then is it which justifies virtue or the morally good

disposition, in making such lofty claims? It is nothing less than

the privilege it secures to the rational being of participating in the

giving of universal laws, by which it qualifies him to be a member

of a possible kingdom of ends, a privilege to which he was already

destined by his own nature as being an end in himself and, on that

account, legislating in the kingdom of ends; free as regards all

laws of physical nature, and obeying those only which he himself

gives, and by which his maxims can belong to a system of universal

law, to which at the same time he submits himself. For nothing has any

worth except what the law assigns it. Now the legislation itself which

assigns the worth of everything must for that very reason possess

dignity, that is an unconditional incomparable worth; and the word

respect alone supplies a becoming expression for the esteem which a

rational being must have for it. Autonomy then is the basis of the

dignity of human and of every rational nature. . .
 

            The Autonomy of the Will
 

     Autonomy of the will is that property of it by which it is a law

to itself (independently of any property of the objects of

volition). The principle of autonomy then is: "Always so to choose

that the same volition shall comprehend the maxims of our choice as

a universal law."

    If the will seeks the law which is to determine it anywhere else

than in the fitness of its maxims to be universal laws of its own

dictation, consequently if it goes out of itself and seeks this law in

the character of any of its objects, there always results

heteronomy. The will in that case does not give itself the law, but it

is given by the object through its relation to the will. This

relation, whether it rests on inclination or on conceptions of reason,

only admits of hypothetical imperatives: "I ought to do something

because I wish for something else." On the contrary, the moral, and

therefore categorical, imperative says: "I ought to do so and so, even

though I should not wish for anything else." . . .
 

        The Concept of Freedom is the Key that Explains the Autonomy of the Will
 
 

    The will is a kind of causality belonging to living beings in so far

as they are rational, and freedom would be this property of such

causality that it can be efficient, independently of foreign causes

determining it; just as physical necessity is the property that the

causality of all irrational beings has of being determined to activity

by the influence of foreign causes. . . .

    What else then can freedom of the will be but

autonomy, that is, the property of the will to be a law to itself? But

the proposition: "The will is in every action a law to itself," only

expresses the principle: "To act on no other maxim than that which can

also have as an object itself as a universal law." Now this is

precisely the formula of the categorical imperative and is the

principle of morality, so that a free will and a will subject to moral

laws are one and the same. . .
 

        Freedom Must Be Presupposed as a Property of the Will of All Rational Beings
 

     It is not enough to predicate freedom of our own will, from Whatever

reason, if we have not sufficient grounds for predicating the same

of all rational beings. For as morality serves as a law for us only

because we are rational beings, it must also hold for all rational

beings; and as it must be deduced simply from the property of freedom,

it must be shown that freedom also is a property of all rational

beings. It is not enough, then, to prove it from certain supposed

experiences of human nature (which indeed is quite impossible, and

it can only be shown a priori), but we must show that it belongs to

the activity of all rational beings endowed with a will. Now I say

every being that cannot act except under the idea of freedom is just

for that reason in a practical point of view really free, that is to

say, all laws which are inseparably connected with freedom have the

same force for him as if his will had been shown to be free in

itself by a proof theoretically conclusive.* Now I affirm that we must

attribute to every rational being which has a will that it has also

the idea of freedom and acts entirely under this idea. For in such a

being we conceive a reason that is practical, that is, has causality

in reference to its objects. Now we cannot possibly conceive a

reason consciously receiving a bias from any other quarter with

respect to its judgements, for then the subject would ascribe the

determination of its judgement not to its own reason, but to an

impulse. It must regard itself as the author of its principles

independent of foreign influences. Consequently as practical reason or

as the will of a rational being it must regard itself as free, that is

to say, the will of such a being cannot be a will of its own except

under the idea of freedom. This idea must therefore in a practical

point of view be ascribed to every rational being.