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