Philosophy Exam.

The Categorical Imperative (selections taken from The Foundations of the Metaphysics of

Morals)

Preface

As my concern here is with moral philosophy, I limit the question suggested to this:

Whether it is not of the utmost necessity to construct a pure thing which is only empirical and

which belongs to anthropology? for that such a philosophy must be possible is evident from the

common idea of duty and of the moral laws. Everyone must admit that if a law is to have moral

force, i.e., to be the basis of an obligation, it must carry with it absolute necessity; that, for

example, the precept, "Thou shalt not lie," is not valid for men alone, as if other rational beings

had no need to observe it; and so with all the other moral laws properly so called; that, therefore,

the basis of obligation must not be sought in the nature of man, or in the circumstances in the

world in which he is placed, but a priori simply in the conception of pure reason; and although

any other precept which is founded on principles of mere experience may be in certain respects

universal, yet in as far as it rests even in the least degree on an empirical basis, perhaps only as to

a motive, such a precept, while it may be a practical rule, can never be called a moral law…

What is 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.

There is, however, something so strange in this idea of the absolute value of the mere

will, in which no account is taken of its utility, that notwithstanding the thorough assent of even

common reason to the idea, yet a suspicion must arise that it may perhaps really be the product

of mere high-flown fancy, and that we may have misunderstood the purpose of nature in

assigning reason as the governor of our will. Therefore we will examine this idea from this point

of view.

In the physical constitution of an organized being, that is, a being adapted suitably to the

purposes of life, we assume it as a fundamental principle that no organ for any purpose will be

found but what is also the fittest and best adapted for that purpose. Now in a being which has

reason and a will, if the proper object of nature were its conservation, its welfare, in a word, its

happiness, then nature would have hit upon a very bad arrangement in selecting the reason of the

creature to carry out this purpose. For all the actions which the creature has to perform with a

view to this purpose, and the whole rule of its conduct, would be far more surely prescribed to it

by instinct, and that end would have been attained thereby much more certainly than it ever can

be by reason. Should reason have been communicated to this favoured creature over and above,

it must only have served it to contemplate the happy constitution of its nature, to admire it, to

congratulate itself thereon, and to feel thankful for it to the beneficent cause, but not that it

should subject its desires to that weak and delusive guidance and meddle bunglingly with the

purpose of nature. In a word, nature would have taken care that reason should not break forth

into practical exercise, nor have the presumption, with its weak insight, to think out for itself the

plan of happiness, and of the means of attaining it. Nature would not only have taken on herself

the choice of the ends, but also of the means, and with wise foresight would have entrusted both

to instinct.

And, in fact, we find that the more a cultivated reason applies itself with deliberate

purpose to the enjoyment of life and happiness, so much the more does the man fail of true

satisfaction. And from this circumstance there arises in many, if they are candid enough to

confess it, a certain degree of misology, that is, hatred of reason, especially in the case of those

who are most experienced in the use of it, because after calculating all the advantages they

derive, I do not say from the invention of all the arts of common luxury, but even from the

sciences (which seem to them to be after all only a luxury of the understanding), they find that

they have, in fact, only brought more trouble on their shoulders. rather than gained in happiness;

and they end by envying, rather than despising, the more common stamp of men who keep closer

to the guidance of mere instinct and do not allow their reason much influence on their conduct.

And this we must admit, that the judgement of those who would very much lower the lofty

eulogies of the advantages which reason gives us in regard to the happiness and satisfaction of

life, or who would even reduce them below zero, is by no means morose or ungrateful to the

goodness with which the world is governed, but that there lies at the root of these judgements the

idea that our existence has a different and far nobler end, for which, and not for happiness,

reason is properly intended, and which must, therefore, be regarded as the supreme condition to

which the private ends of man must, for the most part, be postponed.

For as reason is not competent to guide the will with certainty in regard to its objects and

the satisfaction of all our wants (which it to some extent even multiplies), this being an end to

which an implanted instinct would have led with much greater certainty; and since, nevertheless,

reason is imparted to us as a practical faculty, i.e., as one which is to have influence on the will,

therefore, admitting that nature generally in the distribution of her capacities has adapted the

means to the end, its true destination must be to produce a will, not merely good as a means to

something else, but good in itself, for which reason was absolutely necessary. This will then,

though not indeed the sole and complete good, must be the supreme good and the condition of

every other, even of the desire of happiness. Under these circumstances, there is nothing

inconsistent with the wisdom of nature in the fact that the cultivation of the reason, which is

requisite for the first and unconditional purpose, does in many ways interfere, at least in this life,

with the attainment of the second, which is always conditional, namely, happiness. Nay, it may

even reduce it to nothing, without nature thereby failing of her purpose. For reason recognizes

the establishment of a good will as its highest practical destination, and in attaining this purpose

is capable only of a satisfaction of its own proper kind, namely that from the attainment of an

end, which end again is determined by reason only, notwithstanding that this may involve many

a disappointment to the ends of inclination.

The First Proposition of Morality

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.

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 Proposition 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. 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 of Morality

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.

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 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….

Nor could anything be more fatal to morality than that we should wish to derive it from

examples. For every example of it that is set before me must be first itself tested by principles of

morality, whether it is worthy to serve as an original example, i.e., as a pattern; but by no means

can it authoritatively furnish the conception of morality. Even the Holy One of the Gospels must

first be compared with our ideal of moral perfection before we can recognise Him as such; and

so He says of Himself, "Why call ye Me (whom you see) good; none is good (the model of good)

but God only (whom ye do not see)?" But whence have we the conception of God as the supreme

good? Simply from the idea of moral perfection, which reason frames a priori and connects

inseparably with the notion of a free will. Imitation finds no place at all in morality, and

examples serve only for encouragement, i.e., they put beyond doubt the feasibility of what the

law commands, they make visible that which the practical rule expresses more generally, but

they can never authorize us to set aside the true original which lies in reason and to guide

ourselves by examples….

From what has been said, it is clear that all moral conceptions have their seat and origin

completely a priori in the reason, and that, moreover, in the commonest reason just as truly as in

that which is in the highest degree speculative; that they cannot be obtained by abstraction from

any empirical, and therefore merely contingent, knowledge; that it is just this purity of their

origin that makes them worthy to serve as our supreme practical principle, and that just in

proportion as we add anything empirical, we detract from their genuine influence and from the

absolute value of actions; that it is not only of the greatest necessity, in a purely speculative point

of view, but is also of the greatest practical importance, to derive these notions and laws from

pure reason, to present them pure and unmixed, and even to determine the compass of this

practical or pure rational knowledge, i.e., to determine the whole faculty of pure practical reason;

and, in doing so, we must not make its principles dependent on the particular nature of human

reason, though in speculative philosophy this may be permitted, or may even at times be

necessary; but since moral laws ought to hold good for every rational creature, we must derive

them from the general concept of a rational being. In this way, although for its application to

man morality has need of anthropology, yet, in the first instance, we must treat it independently

as pure philosophy, i.e., as metaphysic, complete in itself (a thing which in such distinct branches

of science is easily done); knowing well that unless we are in possession of this, it would not

only be vain to determine the moral element of duty in right actions for purposes of speculative

criticism, but it would be impossible to base morals on their genuine principles, even for

common practical purposes, especially of moral instruction, so as to produce pure moral

dispositions, and to engraft them on men's minds to the promotion of the greatest possible good

in the world….

The Rational Ground of the Categorical Imperative

…[T]he question how the imperative of morality is possible, is undoubtedly one, the only one,

demanding a solution, as this is not at all hypothetical, and the objective necessity which it

presents cannot rest on any hypothesis, as is the case with the hypothetical imperatives. Only

here we must never leave out of consideration that we cannot make out by any example, in other

words empirically, whether there is such an imperative at all, but it is rather to be feared that all

those which seem to be categorical may yet be at bottom hypothetical. For instance, when the

precept is: "Thou shalt not promise deceitfully"; and it is assumed that the necessity of this is not

a mere counsel to avoid some other evil, so that it should mean: "Thou shalt not make a lying

promise, lest if it become known thou shouldst destroy thy credit," but that an action of this kind

must be regarded as evil in itself, so that the imperative of the prohibition is categorical; then we

cannot show with certainty in any example that the will was determined merely by the law,

without any other spring of action, although it may appear to be so. For it is always possible that

fear of disgrace, perhaps also obscure dread of other dangers, may have a secret influence on the

will. Who can prove by experience the non-existence of a cause when all that experience tells us

is that we do not perceive it? But in such a case the so-called moral imperative, which as such

appears to be categorical and unconditional, would in reality be only a pragmatic precept,

drawing our attention to our own interests and merely teaching us to take these into

consideration.

We shall therefore have to investigate a priori the possibility of a categorical imperative,

as we have not in this case the advantage of its reality being given in experience, so that [the

elucidation of] its possibility should be requisite only for its explanation, not for its

establishment. In the meantime it may be discerned beforehand that the categorical imperative

alone has the purport of a practical law; all the rest may indeed be called principles of the will

but not laws, since whatever is only necessary for the attainment of some arbitrary purpose may

be considered as in itself contingent, and we can at any time be free from the precept if we give

up the purpose; on the contrary, the unconditional command leaves the will no liberty to choose

the opposite; consequently it alone carries with it that necessity which we require in a law.

Secondly, in the case of this categorical imperative or law of morality, the difficulty (of

discerning its possibility) is a very profound one. It is an a priori synthetical practical

proposition; and as there is so much difficulty in discerning the possibility of speculative

propositions of this kind, it may readily be supposed that the difficulty will be no less with the

practical.

The Categorical Imperative: Universal Law

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.

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.