In 1724, in Königsberg, a small city in northern Germany, a boy named Immanuel was born. His father worked as a harness maker and his mother was a housewife. From them, Immanuel Kant—his full name—learned a set of firm moral principles that would guide him and profoundly influence everything he did as he grew older. He was soon recognized for having exceptional intellectual abilities, which assured for him a place in the town’s university, where he would spend his long life. The strange thing about his life is that there is hardly anything of interest that can be reported. Never once did he venture outside of Königsberg. Neither marriage nor intimate relationships nor adventures nor political involvement nor indeed, in fact, any of the things that render people famous can be attributed to him. He lived alone in a modest home, quietly teaching and writing at the university, and his schedule seldom changed, so much so that, it has been said, the people of Königsberg set their watches by his daily walks. Unconcerned about the aspirations that move most people—wealth, prestige, amusements, pleasures, power, and the rest of such empty vanities—and despite the privacy of his mode of life, his fame spread in all directions, and he eventually became known as possibly the greatest philosopher of modern times. Like a powerful magnet, he attracted countless people to his home, among them the most brilliant philosophers, mathematicians, poets, historians, and even politicians, who in awe would gather in his presence to learn from him. It is reported that for many years, until his death in 1804, he would invariably keep only one half of his teaching stipend and would give away the other half for the support of widows, orphans, and homeless persons in Konigsberg.
There is a well-documented story about Kant that deserves to be recounted. Once, a number of prominent intellectuals came to visit him, and at some point one of them asked him to name the wisest and most knowledgeable person he had ever known, which reminds us of the story reported about Socrates when a friend of his asked the Delphic oracle who was the wisest man in the world. The oracular response was clear yet perplexing: Socrates was the wisest among mortals, an answer that left Socrates astonished and baffled because, he said, the only thing he knew was that he knew nothing. In the case of Kant, likewise, his answer was equally perplexing. After a few moments, the philosopher said that there were two people who stood in his mind as the wisest and most knowledgeable he had ever known. Then he named them, saying that they were his long-dead father and his mother. But why, he was asked, were his ordinary parents considered the wisest? Kant’s reply was clear and emphatic: They were wisest because they were good human beings, people of exemplary ethical and moral living, and such people know and understand far more than others who, despite their learning and accomplishments, fall short of a life lived according to solid ethical and moral norms. Somehow, then, Kant viewed his own impressive contributions to science, philosophy, and other intellectual fields as secondary to his discovery of the unsurpassed value of a life guided by rational principles.
It does not take much imagination to realize that the human condition has always been in a constant state of confusion about what is right and wrong in human behavior. This explains why there is so much crime, abuse, and social upheaval in every community. Ethical and moral behavior is a rare commodity. In ancient cultures, no less than in our own, we have often been at a loss when it comes to matters of right and wrong, good and evil.
Innumerable attempts have been made on the part of religious preachers, philosophers, and social scientists to introduce some sense of order as a guideline for human behavior, but all such attempts have proven to be futile. The human species seems to suffer from a condition that incapacitates it, first to understand the basis and content of ethical living, and secondly to apply ethical norms to human behavior. In a sense, we appear to suffer from an endemic intellectual and psychological inability to learn the art of living well. Schopenhauer may have been right when he affirmed that the human world is in a constant state of bankruptcy.
The basis of moral values that permeates the social world is varied and relativistic. Religion has been undoubtedly an important source of morality, but it suffers from an unavoidable weakness: Numerous religious codes of ethics have abounded, but these often stand in contradiction with one another. Furthermore, religious convictions are grounded on faith, and faith is neither universal nor does it furnish us with permanent rules of behavior. In the past, for instance, prostitutes were often stoned to death in the name of God, but today they are forgiven, also in the name of God.
A commonly found basis for ethical behavior is also the appeal to happiness. We recognize that most people aspire to be happy, but this aspiration takes on different forms, which leads inevitably to conflicts, dissentions, and wars. Furthermore, the idea of happiness varies from individual to individual, and the conflict between the happiness of one person and the happiness of others is unavoidable. For this and other reasons, it is unquestionable that a stable code of ethics based on emotions and personal preferences cannot be firmly established. Even the idea of utilitarianism, a philosophical and sociological point of view that argues that the happiness or utility of the majority must take precedence over the choices of the individual, falls short of all expectations.
But if right conduct cannot be firmly grounded in religious teachings nor in the natural human quest for happiness nor in traditions or customs nor even in what appears to be normal behavior, is there no hope of establishing a universal set of standards that define what a good and righteous human life should be? Are we condemned to drift aimlessly in a sea of confusion, and must the world remain what it has been from the onset, a monumental asylum for lunatics where only physical force can exercise some control over the madness that often engulfs human behavior?
A glimpse of hope comes to us from the example and teachings of Kant, assuring us of the possibility of discovering a firm foundation of moral values. Despite the utopian character of his expectations, his ideas are worth considering. He experienced, as we all have, the dismal condition of a humanity mostly devoid of moral convictions. For him, neither an appeal to religious beliefs and traditions nor a reliance on feelings or emotions nor a blind trust in human nature provides the solution. In Kant, we come upon a concerted effort to make human reason—the ability to think clearly and consistently on the basis of universal principles—the ultimate court of judgment in ethical matters. As with Socrates, the path to wisdom lies in one’s commitment to know oneself and cleanse the mind of confusions and phantoms in order to understand precisely what each one of us is and can be. For Kant, reason alone is and should be the judicial guide of human behavior. Neither the bare attachment to religious beliefs and practices nor the illusory expectation of happiness nor the prompting of emotions can decide what is ethically right or wrong. Only reason can be the highest court in such matters.
In Kant’s ethical writings, the solution to the problem of ethics and indeed of human behavior is clearly stated. We must abide by two self-evident principles, which he calls categorical imperatives or absolute commands. They are the expression of what he called the moral law. The first of these can be stated in these simple terms: Act always as if your action were to become a universal example for all human beings in similar circumstances. Whatever I do, therefore, whatever I undertake no matter how insignificant, must be undertaken as if it were a universal rule of behavior for all human beings. My actions, therefore, must stand as universal examples worthy of universal imitation. The second categorical imperative takes on this form: Treat every human being, including yourself, always as an end in itself, never as a means towards an end. People, therefore, cannot be dealt with as if they were objects to be used.
These categorical imperatives, if well understood and consistently applied, would ensure some alleviation to the human condition. What they presuppose is, of course, the ability and willingness of people to use their heads—that is, their reasoning power—in their daily living.
Dr. L. E. Navia is Professor of Philosophy at New York Institute of Technology. He is the author of many books, including Diogenes the Cynic: The War Against the World.