Eric Wilson

According to Kant, passions are a distinct type of inclination. Unlike normal inclinations, however, they are inherently destructive—much like addictions. Recent scholarship on Kant's view has left two important questions unanswered. First, what is the key trouble-making difference between passions and normal inclinations? Second, what mental processes give rise to passions in the first place? My article answers both questions. I argue that passions involve a form of tunnel vision or hyperfocus that corrupts practical reason by hijacking attention. This problem emerges when the imagination (or “fantasy”) distorts the processes that give rise to normal inclinations.

In his later writings, Kant distinguishes between autonomy and self-mastery or self-command. My article explains the relation between these two ideas, both of which are integral to his understanding of moral agency and the pursuit of virtue. I point to problems with other interpretations of this relation and offer an alternative. On my view, self-command is a condition or state achieved by those agents who become proficient at solving problems presented by the passions. Such agents are able to stick to the results of self-legislation over time and thereby achieve a form of temporally extended freedom

It is well known that Kant bases morality on the autonomy of the will, which he defines as the "the property of the will by which it is a law to itself" (GMS 4:440). He thus locates the normative basis for all the demands of morality in the capacity of persons to be self-legislating. Many philosophers take this to be an attractive and distinctively modern form of moral theory. It establishes the individual's own reason as the highest authority in the moral realm and grants her the capacity to subject any and all norms to rational scrutiny. However, many of Kant's less sympathetic critics reject this picture of morality because they find the concept of individual autonomy incoherent. In particular, many do not think that self-imposed laws can be binding in any meaningful sense. Laws that one gives oneself cannot really be laws. For this reason, the very idea of self-legislation seems "absurd," as Elizabeth Anscombe so pointedly puts the matter

This essay seeks to contribute to current debates about value in Kant's ethics. Its main objective is to dislodge the widely shared intuition that his view of autonomy requires constructivism or some other alternative to moral realism. I argue the following. Kant seems to think that the value of persons is due to their very nature, not to what anyone decides is the case (however rational or pure those decisions may be). He also seems to think that when we treat persons as ends in themselves we are responding appropriately to the fact that their very nature elevates them above all other concerns. Neither of these beliefs is incompatible with his view of autonomy. So it is a mistake to think that Kant's ethics requires constructivism or any other form of anti-realism

As is well known, Kant presents several versions of the Categorical Imperative in the Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals. Traditionally readers have focused on the “universal law” formulation of his famous moral principle. Friends of Kant have found in the FUL an appealingly formal and seemingly rigorous criterion for right action, while foes have found in it a convenient whipping boy. Recently, however, much attention has shifted to the “humanity” formulation of the Categorical Imperative. The shift is motivated partly by a general exhaustion with the FUL and the problems it generates—for example, the emptiness charge, as well as the problem of false positives and false negatives—as well as by a widely accepted commitment to the general idea that every human being is worthy of respect. Scholars such as Thomas E. Hill, Jr., Christine Korsgaard, and Allen Wood have greatly enriched our understanding of Kant’s work by emphasizing the role of the FH in his moral theory

This essay examines the connection between the concept of autonomy and the concept of an ideal, moral self in Kant’s practical philosophy. Its central thesis is that self-legislation does not rest on the capacity to exempt oneself from nature’s causal network. Instead, it rests on the practical capacity for identification with what Kant calls an individual’s “moral personality.” A person’s ability to identify with this morally ideal version of himself gives shape to his will, enabling him to decide how to act on the basis of reasons that do not stem from desires or inclinations. It thus makes possible a form of volition that is autonomous rather than heteronomous.

In the Preface to his impressive and engaging new commentary on the Critique of Pure Reason, Jay Rosenberg informs us that the book is both a product of his own lectures and a “direct descendent of Wilfrid Sellars’ legendary introduction to Kant” . Its origins in the classroom give Accessing Kant a refreshingly pedagogical tone. Throughout, Rosen-berg—who was a student of Sellars’ at the University of Pittsburgh—makes felicitous use of clear examples, familiar problems and authors, and visual aids to clarify “the Big Picture” operating in the first Critique. Mercifully, however, his style owes little to Sellars’ own brutally opaque prose.Rosenberg also shares his teacher’s enthusiasm for the history of philosophy. The reader will not find Rosenberg sloughing off Kant’s “lesser predecessors” in the manner of P. F. Strawson. However, the history on display in Accessing Kant has more to do with the curricular demands of English-speaking philosophy departments than with Kant’s own intellectual and cultural context. This means that his Kant argues across the ages with giants rather than with his peers in Halle and Berlin. Nor, despite the occasional reference to Kant’s handwritten marginalia, does Rosenberg devote any effort to

This essay explores Kant’s account of judging. In it, I argue for two central claims. First, Kant defines the act of judgment as the exercise of a particular type of authority (Befugnis). When a person makes a judgment, she makes a claim to speak for everyone, and not just herself. She puts something forward as true. Kant’s term for this discursive authority is “objectivity validity,” and he identifies this as the essential feature of judging. Second, the Categories and the Principles are what authorize a person to put something forward as true. This means that the objective validity of a judgment is supplied by the rules of the understanding rather than by something outside the mind.

Tamar Schapiro has offered an important new ‘Kantian’ account of inclination and motivation, one that expands and refines Christine Korsgaard’s view. In this article I argue that Kant’s own view differs significantly from Schapiro’s. Above all, Kant thinks of inclinations as dispositions, not occurrent desires; and he does not believe that they stem directly from a non-rational source, as she argues. Schapiro’s ‘Kantian’ view rests on a much sharper distinction between the rational and non-rational parts of the soul. In the process of explaining these differences, I argue that Kant’s own view is in some respects philosophically superior to Schapiro’s.

One of the major debates of early modern philosophy concerned what David Hume called “the selfish hypothesis.” According to this view, all human conduct is motivated by self-love. Influential versions can be found in the writings of Hobbes, Mandeville, the Jansenists, and La Rochefoucauld. Important critics of this view included Butler, Shaftesbury, Hutcheson, Rousseau, Hume, and Smith. My essay argues that we should add Kant to this list of critics. I propose that Kant knew about this important debate and responded to it. More specifically, I propose that he responded at two different levels. At one level, Kant sided with the critics, arguing for the reality of genuine fellow feeling. At another level, he concluded that everyone was arguing about the wrong thing. All the critics of the selfish hypothesis seek to vindicate common morality, but Kant thought this required establishing the possibility of human freedom. He believed that instead of arguing about whether we are capable of responding in a genuinely compassionate or sympathetic way to other people, we should be arguing about whether we are capable of responding in a nonmechanical way to the demands of morality. Looking at Kant’s practical philosophy from this underexplored perspective sheds new light on his doctrines of respect and moral worth. It renders both more interesting and intelligible, and it illuminates the direct connection between these doctrines and the fundamental concerns of his entire critical project.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Philosophy 41.2 (2003) 278-279 [Access article in PDF] Frederick C. Beiser. German Idealism: The Struggle Against Subjectivism, 1781-1801. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2002. Pp. xvi + 726. Cloth, $59.95. With German Idealism Frederick Beiser adds to his already impressive body of work on classical German Philosophy. The aim of his book is to provide a historical account of the various forms the notion of "idealism" took on in the work of Kant, Fichte, Hölderlin, Novalis, Friederich Schlegel, and Schelling. While the ruling picture of the period presents German idealism as the "metaphysics of subjectivity" blown up into mythic proportions, Beiser argues steadily and convincingly that "the development of German idealism consists not in an increasing subjectivism but in the very opposite: a growing realism and naturalism" (3).Nearly two-thirds of the book is devoted to Kant and Fichte. The treatment of Kant weighs in at just under two hundred pages, and is devoted to tracing his struggles with idealism in the pre-critical writings, the Kritik der reinen Vernunft and the Opus postumum. Unresolved Kantian problems serve as the launching pad for Fichte's "practical idealism." Beiser concentrates on Fichte's battles with skepticism and nihilism, his turn to the "primacy of the practical," and his efforts to provide a moral and inter-subjective foundation [End Page 278] for self-consciousness. The rest of the book deals with the ways in which the Kant-Fichte legacy is taken up and transformed into "absolute idealism" by the early Romantics and Schelling. Among the absolute idealists, it is Schelling—"the most inventive, brilliant, and productive" of them all (467)—who receives the most attention.It is a virtue of German Idealism that the trees of interpretive controversy are never mistaken for the idealist forest. In the body of the text, Beiser sticks closely to the task at hand, introducing the reader to the main lines of argumentation and the major philosophical stakes with exceptional skill and clarity. Scholarly debates are carried out mostly in the endnotes. This approach moves things along at a brisk pace, and makes for a refreshingly readable academic tome. It is perhaps inevitable, however, that a book of this scope will crack a little under the strain of its own weight. Three problems stand out. First, rejecting Hegel's self-aggrandizing account of the period is one thing, but it is surely overstating the case to say that the history of German idealism shows us that Hegel "was not the creative and original thinker that his history suggests or that his disciples imply" (11). Beiser's history, at least, does not justify such a claim. Pointing out that Hegelian-sounding ideas were in the air before Hegel started publishing does not suffice. Plato inherited from Parmenides the concern with "being," but this hardly makes him less of a creative and original thinker. Second, Beiser does not live up to his methodological promise to bracket "contemporary philosophical concerns and concepts" (ix). The book is littered with anachronisms. Schlegel is presented as attacking the "myth of the Given" (445-6), for example, while Schelling gives a "transcendental argument" for the self-knowledge of the absolute (589). Beiser also regularly classifies philosophers from the period as either "foundationalist" or "anti-foundationalist" (6-9, 235-9, 444-6), thus putting to work an undeniably contemporary "-ism" for which German, to this day, does not have a direct equivalent.Third, Beiser's treatment of the early German Romantics is too weak to serve as a bridge from Kant and Fichte to Schelling. While he is certainly right to insist that the early Romantics played a crucial role in the development of German idealism, he repeatedly conflates this claim with the less-than-convincing claim that they were philosophers with systematic ambitions. As a result, he seems ill at ease with their work, and has trouble dealing with the form within which they made their contributions. Take Schlegel for example. "For perfectly plausible reasons," we are told, "Schlegel was very skeptical of much...