Stephen R. Palmquist

Kant’s pre-1770 philosophy responded to the mind-body problem by applying a theory of “physical influx”. His encounter with Swedenborg’s mysticism, however, left him disillusioned with any dualist solution to Descartes’ problem. One of the major goals of the Critical philosophy was to provide a completely new solution to the mind-body problem. Kant’s new solution is “perspectival” in the sense that all Critical theories are perspectival: it acknowledges a deep truth in both of the controversy’s extremes (i.e., what we might nowadays call eliminative materialism and an absolutely ideal folk psychology), by viewing both as ways of considering the issue, rather than as the only correct approach. Once we take into account its perspectival character, a new way of understanding Kant’s philosophy of mind emerges. The mind is no longer separate from the body, but is a manifestation of it, viewed from another (specifically human, rational) perspective. Kant’s transcendental conditions of knowledge (spatio-temporal intuition, categorial conception, and principled schematization) do not portray the mind as somehow creating the physical world; rather, they imply the opposite, that knowledge of objects is necessarily structured by a set of unconscious assumptions about the physical world. Our pre-conscious (or pre-mental, in Descartes’ sense of “mental”) encounter with an assumed spatio-temporal, causal nexus is entirely physical. A reincarnated Kant’s solution to today’s mind-body problem would be: eliminative materialism is good science; but only the “explanatory idealist” can consistently be an eliminative materialist. Philosophically, multiple perspectives are necessary in order to understand anything we say or do.

It would be difficult to find a philosopher who has suffered more injustices at the hands of his commentators (friends and foes alike) than Immanuel Kant. This is particularly true when it comes to the many anecdotes that commentators are, for some reason, quite fond of reciting about Kant. The problem is that such tales are often used surreptitiously to twist Kant's own explicit claims about what he was attempting to accomplish, so that when his writings are read with these stories in mind, misunderstanding is almost inevitable. As an example, it is only necessary to think of the tale of the old ladies of Königsberg who became so familiar with Kant's rigid schedule that they used to set their clocks by his daily comings and goings. This may or may not be true; the point is that unless this anecdote is recounted with a certain skepticism, it is likely to encourage a prejudice whereby the reader of Kant assumes at the beginning that Kant's writings are filled with the unreasonably rigid and formalistic ravings of someone out of touch with the unpredictable passions that punctuate the life of an ordinary person. In other words, such stories are in danger of creating an image of Kant that may have little or no justification in the text. One could cite other examples, such as the story of how Kant used to lead the procession of university professors up to the cathedral each Sunday, only to desert it at the door, or Bertrand Russell's quip that Kant's response to being “awakened” by Hume was merely to invent a transcendental “soporific” to help him fall asleep again.

The common saying, “it is better to give than to receive”, is so widespread that its truth is often merely assumed. But can this ethical maxim withstand a careful philosophical analysis? The relevant concepts (“giving”, “receiving”, and “better”)can be interpreted in too many ways to discuss thoroughly in a single essay. Instead, this essay classifies the various ways of interpreting the distinction between giving and receiving, then explores in depth one of the options, based on a pivotal distinction between active and passive types of both giving and receiving. I defend the controversial claim that there is at least one important sense (arguably the most important, for ethical purposes) in which it is not better to give than receive, but that in this sense precisely the opposite holds true. Indeed, the survival of the human race may depend on our willingness to receive.

In his Critique of Pure Reason, Kant famously includes immortality as one of the three “ideas” that give rise to “unavoidable problems of reason” (KrV, B7)1 and thereby constitute the basic subject-matter of metaphysics. Interpreters have paid a great deal of attention to the other two ideas, God and freedom; yet very few studies of Kantian immortality have ever been undertaken. This should come as no surprise, once we realize that Kant himself used the word “immortality” and its cognates only 40 times in all three of his great Critiques. (By comparison, forms of the words “God” and “free(dom)” appear 119 and 509 times, respectively, in the three Critiques.) Kant’s theory of immortality – if he can be said to have one – is therefore exceedingly difficult to understand. For example, he says at one point (KrV, B395n): “Metaphysics has only three ideas as the proper purpose of its investigation: God, freedom, and immortality – and in such a way that the second concept, when combined with the first, is to lead to the third as a necessary conclusion.” How are we to understand this claim ? Does Kant really mean that combining the concept of freedom with the concept of God somehow gives rise to immortality as a necessary inference? In any case, why does Kant say so little about immortality, even though he portrays it as one of three ideas that constitute the “final aim” of all metaphysical speculation ? These and other puzzles raised by Kant’s occasional comments on immortality will be the focus of this paper.

Throughout history no mere mortal has been more revered and esteemed by so many diverse people than Abraham, great patriarch of the three enduring monotheistic religions. Yet Judaism, Christianity and Islam all agree that this man attempted to kill his own, innocent son, an act so dastardly that it would normally be judged both immoral and illegal in any civil society. Surprisingly, the scriptures of these three religious faiths praise Abraham for this very act, justifying it in very different ways, but all portraying it as the paradigm of religious obedience.

Based on the author's Introduction to Philosophy lectures in Hong Kong, this book has been translated into Chinese and Indonesian and has sold over 10,000 copies. Unlike a typical textbook, the author punctuates his objective descriptions of the classical philosophical theories in metaphysics, logic, applied philosophy and ontology, with highly personal examples of how philosophical reflection can stimulate insights. Like a typical textbook, every chapter ends with a list of questions for further thought and a list of recommended further readings. The first of twelve chapters is shown here as an example.

The previous chapter provided not only concrete evidence that Kant's System is based on the principle of perspective [II.2-3], but also a general outline of its perspectival structure [II.4]. The task this sets for the interpreter is to establish in greater detail the extent to which the System actually does unfold according to this pattern. This will be undertaken primarily in Parts Two and Three. But before concluding Part One, it will be helpful to examine in more detail the logical structure of the relationships between the various parts of Kant's System, and how they fit together to compose what we have called Kant's 'Copernican Perspective'

What Stanislas Debaene dubs "the number sense" is a natural ability humans share with other animals, enabling us to "count" to four virtually instantaneously. This so-called "accumulator" provides "a direct intuition of what numbers mean" (p. 5). Beyond four, our ability to perceive numbers becomes approximate, though concepts enable us to move beyond approximation. Because humans typically learn number concepts in early childhood, we easily forget that our brains retain the number sense throughout life. This book examines the biological basis for this intuitive ability, with nine chapters organized into three readily graspable groups of three. Aside from its frustrating lack of a clear referencing system (making it difficult or impossible to trace Debaene's sources), the book is a pleasure to read.

1. The Problem of Transcendental Theology Kant's transcendental philosophy begins with an attempt to solve the theoretical problem of the possibility of synthetic a priori judgments. In solving this epistemological problem Kant demonstrates how transcendental knowledge (i.e., knowledge of the synthetic a priori conditions for the possibility of experience) is possible only when its application is confined to the realm of empirical knowledge (i.e., to experience). He argues that space, time, and the twelve categories form the transcendental boundary line between what we can and cannot know. But this 'solution' itself calls attention to an even more significant problem: what is the status of that which lies outside the boundary of possible empirical knowledge? Kant reveals as early as CPR xxix xxxi1 that this metaphysical problem of how to verify the fundamental human ideas of 'God, freedom, and immortality', upon which he believes all religion and morality depend, constitutes the deepest and most urgent form of the 'transcendental problem'. It should therefore come as no surprise when he devotes the entire Transcendental Dialectic, the largest section of the first Critique, to the task of solving this ubiquitous perplexity of human reason. According to Kant our ideas of God, freedom, and immortality inevitably arise in the human mind as a result of our attempts to unify and systematize our empirical knowledge. In other words, reason naturally seeks for something beyond the limits of empirical knowledge which can supply unity and coherence to the diversity of facts which fall within that boundary. The problem is that the transcendental conditions which enable us to gain knowledge in the empirical world are unable to perform their function with respect to such ideas, because the ideas abstract from all sensible content, whereas the transcendental conditions (space, time and the categories) all require such content. As is well known, Kant devoted considerable effort in the Transcendental Dialectic to the task of pointing out the implications of this transcendental problem for rational psychology (with its proofs of the immortality of the soul), rational cosmology (with its proofs of transcendental freedom), and rational theology (with its proofs of the existence of God)..

Kant-s use of the word -object- (Objekt or Gegenstand) is a potential source of much confusion and ambiguity. Sometimes he uses it in a broad sense, either nontechnically to refer to an ordinary - thing- encountered in imÂmediate experience, or technically to refer to anything which stands in some potential, actual or necessary relation to the knowing subject. At other times he uses it in a narrower sense to refer to an object in general as it is viewed at one of several stages in the knowing process. Consequently, its meaning is not always evident when Kant uses it without a qualifying adjective [cf. B20: 76 and G12:778]. The first step to coping with this situation is to recÂognize that he explains the role of the object in his theory of knowledge (i.e., in systemt) primarily by implementing six technical -.

Few commentators (if any) would question Schrader's poignant obser­vation that 'the doctrine of the thing in itself presents the single greatest stumbling block in the Kantian philosophy' [S5:49]. Understanding what Kant meant by the doctrine i.e., the role it plays both in his overall System and in his transcendental idealism can help prevent it from being discarded 'as a per­versity' [49], inasmuch as it can be interpreted in such a way that it makes quite good sense [see VI.2]. Yet even the most coherent interpretation could not prevent the philosopher who demands knowledge from 'stumbling' over it; for, accord­ing to Kant, the thing in itself is by definition unknow­able. In V.3 we saw, however, that there is one alternative to faith as the ultimate jus­tification for its employment which, if successful, would satisfy even the most persistent skeptic: viz., to justify the thing in itself by constructing a valid transcendental argument for the necessity of its existence. Since any ap­peal to faith would thereby be rendered superflu­ous, we must now examine more carefully the possibility of realizing this goal. For, although Kant him­self did not believe he required such a transcendental argu­ment, it may be pos­sible to reconstruct his System on the basis of a slightly different presup­posi­tion, such as that the thing in itself can, in fact, be proved to exist and to have certain knowable characteristics. Hence, in this Appendix I shall analyze the logical consistency of an affirmative answer to the meta­critical question: Is the thing in itself knowable? Our answer to this question will inevitably determine to a large extent how we should approach the task of interpreting the elements of Kant's Critical philosophy (as in Part Three), so it is important to deal with it seriously

How important is the first sentence of an article or book? We all know it is very important, at least when it comes to the level of interest a piece of writing will generate in the reader. A dull, lifeless first paragraph sets a boring tone for the whole piece—a tone that is difficult to change later on, no matter how interesting the topic may be. But why should the first sentence or paragraph be any more signif­icant than the others? Is there anything about what comes first in life that makes it somehow more meaningful—or perhaps, meaningful in a different way—than other , subsequent events? This, in its broadest sense, is the question of initia­tion

Recent perspectival interpretations of Kant suggest a way of relating his epistemology to empirical science that makes it plausible to regard Einstein’stheory of relativity as having a Kantian grounding. This first of two articles exploring this topic focuses on how the foregoing hypothesis accounts for variousresonances between Kant’s philosophy and Einstein’s science. The great attention young Einstein paid to Kant in his early intellectual development demonstrates the plausibility of this hypothesis, while certain features of Einstein’s cultural-political context account for his reluctance to acknowledge Kant’s influence, even though contemporary philosophers who regarded themselves as Kantians urged him to do so. The sequel argues that this Kantian grounding probably had a formative influence not only on Einstein’s discovery of the theory of relativity and his view of the nature of science, but also on his quasi-mystical, religious disposition.

Part I in this two-part series employed a perspectival interpretation to argue that Kant’s epistemology serves as the philosophical grounding for modern revolutions in science. Although Einstein read Kant at an early age and immersed himself in Kant’s philosophy throughout his early adulthood, he was reluctant to admit Kant’s influence, possibly due to personal factors relating to his cultural-political situation. This sequel argues that Einstein’s early Kant-studies would have brought to his attention the problem of simultaneity and the method of solving it that eventually led to the theory of relativity. Despite Einstein’s reluctance to acknowledge his Kantian grounding, a perspectival understanding of Kant’s philosophy of science shows it is profoundly consistent with Einstein’s views on both synthetic apriority and the nature of scientific theory. Moreover, Kant and Einstein share quasi-mystical religious tendencies, relying on an unknowable absolute as the ultimate boundary of our scientific understanding of nature.

In Religion within the Bounds of Bare Reason, Kant outlines a system of church government that strikes many as an unworkable ideal. The “invisible church” is to be structured according to four basic principles that correspond directly to the categories from the first Critique. Whereas ordinary political systems must involvecoercion, a church is to be a free association of persons governed by non-coercive, internally legislated moral laws. Is this a realistic blueprint for church government? Kant’s metaphor of a “household” as the best way to regard the relationship between the “People of God” provides a much-neglected key to understanding how Kant’s ideal can be implemented. A new and technically more accurate definition of “theocracy”, as a system not of humanly-headed religious despotism but of divinely protected autonomous friendship, clarifies how Kant’s plan is not only realistic but currently implemented in some religious communities today.

This question is relevant not only to stu­dents working towards a degree in religious studies, but to every thinking human being. For a person’s concep­tion of how religion ought to be studied will determine to a large extent that person’s view of the value (or lack of value) of be­ing reli­gious, whether or not that person actually studies religion in depth. I say “to a large extent” because this is only one of two key factors which determine a person’s religious disposition. The other im­por­tant factor is what a person actually finds as a result of engaging in a religious quest

Kant's Critical philosophy is notorious for its terminological ambiguity and apparent inconsistency. The interpretive confusion that often results is at least a contributing factor to the conclusion of many commentators, such as Strawson, that large chunks of Kant's System (e.g., his 'transcendental idealism') are 'unintelligible' and 'incoherent'. [1] Yet I believe, with Kant [Kt1: Axxi], that if his works are approached with 'the patience and impartiality of a judge' (and perhaps even with 'the benevolent assistance of a fellow worker '), rather than with a set of analytical tools with which to dissect his every sentence, then almost all of his theories can be understood in surprisingly simple and consistent terms. Accordingly, I shall make a further step in this chapter towards the substantiation of this supposition by interpreting and interrelating some of the fundamental epistemological distinctions which serve to structure all three Critiques