Jaeha Woo

The position presented in Concluding Unscientific Postscript to “Philosophical Fragments” published under the pseudonym Johannes Climacus—crystallized in the infamous declaration that truth is subjectivity—has often been interpreted as dramatically upholding the rift between the Christian faith and common-sense reason. Through a comparison with Kant’s approach in philosophy of religion, I explain why such a response naturally arises. I then take a stab at making sense of Climacus’ position by comparing his account of faith in the historical God-man with contemporary analytic accounts of hope. The structural similarity between the two suggests that divine incarnation may not be all that puzzling as an object of hope, as it can be judged as morally useful within the framework of Kant’s practical philosophy. The question, then, is whether Climacus is justified in going beyond demanding hope and calling instead for faith, an absolute yes to Jesus. His crucial move is to frame our proper relationship to this person as a case of unconditional love. I take this move to establish Climacus’ subjective truth as a sensible aspirational ideal within Kant’s bounds of mere reason, although it never comes into full possession of finite humans.

Mateo is a climate pessimist who believes we've already passed critical tipping points and sees further action as pointless. Ayla understands the urgency of climate action but feels paralyzed by the monumental scope of requisite changes. Cason claims to know that climate change is an urgent issue, but his behavior tells a different story. The introduction points out that this anthology, which recounts how its authors often experience similar reactions, helps readers navigate them by highlighting actionable solutions that can be practiced at multiple levels of society today. In this way, the volume invites the audacity to harbor hopes regarding climate change. The introduction reflects on how hope can be a reasonable attitude toward the climate crisis despite the discouraging odds suggested by current scientific assessments and the history of missed opportunities. It also argues that hope in the context of climate change can be about long-overdue social reforms, whose necessity has become much more glaring in light of increasingly frequent extreme weather events.

Many books explain why global warming is a problem; this book shows what must be done. It addresses central themes of climate change in straightforward terms, laying out the actions that need to be taken to slow global warming and adapt to the near and long-term future that we have created for ourselves. Collecting knowledge, personal stories, and practical insights from experts across a dozen specialties, this volume shows how we can adapt to climate change in order to protect the most vulnerable among us. Grappling with a complex range of topics, including risk, migration, and societal inequality, the authors take a constructive approach that balances realism with actionable solutions. They look back across human history for lessons that still matter today, particularly the importance of building a supportive and committed community to nourish hope. Without losing sight of the scale of the challenge, the volume chronicles the opportunities to mitigate environmental impacts and to leverage the challenge as impetus for broader transformations of society. Written in an accessible, non-technical style, _Climate Change: What Must Be Done?_ is a must-read for students, policymakers, and environmentally conscious individuals who want to know how to make a difference.

After highlighting Søren Kierkegaard's emphasis on the absolute difference between God and humans, this article presents his explanation of why we can readily embrace our inferior position to God, which appeals to his understanding of love as involving the desire to be the guilty party. But this argument can be turned around to make a case that God would desire to be the guilty party in relation to us. This fits well with the story of God's love in Kierkegaard's pseudonymous writing Philosophical Fragments, in which divine incarnation is interpreted as God's descent in history to establish equality with humans. After arguing that such a kenotic Christology is not incompatible with the absolute God-human difference because it accentuates the fact that only God can cross the divide, the author points out its similarity with Marilyn Adams’ view that God became the curse in Jesus to cancel out the power of the curse of sin. He finishes by dealing with the worry that, despite divine descent, some humans may be unable to stand boldly confident before God because of their memory of what their sinfulness has caused. One way to alleviate this worry is to adopt the Irenaean affirmation of God's ultimate responsibility, and the author claims that this would complete Kierkegaard's Philosophical Fragments by adding an interpretation of the crucifixion in line with its story of divine descent.

I make a case for the hope that God is the supremely guilty person whose death on the cross represents God's apology to us in history. I motivate this hope by examining Kant's quest to find satisfaction in humans' moral life. After explaining why moral satisfaction is so significant in his practical philosophy, I point out that the human moral vocation in his second Critique boils down to endless progress toward the highest good, governed by God as the moral ruler. However, he shifts away from this account due to the worry that it offers no prospect of moral satisfaction. But this shift, which involves lowering the bar of morality, does not eliminate moral discontent, so the question of how to prevent it from abating our interest in morality remains. With this question in mind, I turn to Kierkegaard's critique of Kant's later shift as the way to secure moral satisfaction. Kierkegaard instead underscores the absolute God-human difference so that we can be content with accepting always standing guilty before God, but his argument for embracing this position can be turned around to suggest that a boundlessly loving God would desire to be the guilty party in relation to us. I explore this direction by adapting his kenotic Christology in writings under the pseudonym Johannes Climacus into the distinctive form of Kantian moral theology. This exploration, which is based on the Irenaean affirmation of divine omni-responsibility as explained by John Hick, can lead some theists to find consolation for their moral discontent in God who has descended to the moral low ground. If there was a God-human in history who manifested this descent by an apology on the cross, this person can be interpreted as offering universal salvation here and now, even to the faithless.

In the beginning of his critical period, Kant treated the perfect attainment of the highest good—the unconditioned totality of ends which would uphold the perfect proportionality between moral virtue and happiness—as both the ground of hope for deserved happiness and the final end of our moral life. But I argue that Kant moved in the direction of de-emphasizing the latter aspect of the highest good, not because it is inappropriate or impossible for us to promote this ideal, but because the endless pursuit of it offers no prospect of moral satisfaction. I take this change as one possible reason for him to shift his focus more toward social and political progress in history, which has as its main subject the human species which is in some sense immortal.

I show how those with Kantian habits of mind—those committed to maintaining certain kinds of universality in ethics—can still get involved in the project of securing the distinctiveness of Christian ethics by highlighting parts of his moral philosophy that are amenable to this project. I first describe the interaction among James Gustafson, Stanley Hauerwas, and Samuel Wells surrounding the issue of the distinctiveness of Christian ethics, to explain why Kant is generally understood as the opponent of this project in this discourse. Then I lay out his discussions of how his moral argument for postulating divine existence can have beneficial moral-psychological results, and of how we can find moral satisfaction, the sense of pleasure in our moral strivings, as two elements in his moral philosophy that can be turned into a distinctively Christian ethics with revisions that should be allowed within the broad confines of Kantian moral philosophy. I also point out that his own answer to the question of moral satisfaction is already distinctively Christian, in that it is inspired by the Christian tenets of the imputation of righteousness and the assurance of salvation.

I examine a particular case in which moral guilt seems to be incurred even though the agent cannot be said to be blameworthy in any way. I argue that the agent-regret induced by one’s causal involvement in bringing about the bad state of affairs is not always sufficient to account for the extent of guilt, and I suggest that the sense of failure in terms of fulfilling tasks that arise from role-responsibilities that have been taken on must be considered as well. Then I explain that this kind of moral guilt is a significant aspect of our practical life because the agent who has taken on a substantial role-responsibility such as parenthood is subject to conflicting demands as a result and because the agent cannot be expected to fulfill all the tasks associated with this role-responsibility on one’s own.

In the first half, I suggest that Kant’s conception of our moral life goes through a significant shift after 1793, with reverberations in his eschatology. The earlier account, based on the postulate of immortality, describes our moral life as an endless pursuit of the highest good, but all this changes in the later account, and I point out three possible reasons for this change of heart. In the second half, I explore how the considerations Kant brings up to argue for his accounts can inform our process of formulating positions with respect to the afterlife. I argue that, in the absence of a convincing theoretical proof for or against the afterlife as well as apodictically certain knowledge of how demanding the moral law is, the Kantian strategy would be to ask which account of our moral life delivers the kind of contentment that can sustain our moral resolve. I also point out a way theists might be able to find contentment despite their moral failures by imagining God’s moral kenosis.