What Is Wrong With Kant's
Philosophy?

Introduction

David Hume
(1711-1776), native of Edinburgh and a product of its
university, denied the existence of all substantial reality, material or
spiritual. In his Treatise on Human Nature he declares that man's mind
is only a collection of perceptions. These perceptions are either impressions
or ideas. Impressions are sensations of pleasure, pain, awareness of
qualities and relations. Ideas are but the faintly remembered images of
impressions formerly experienced. This vague philosophy has a very modern
sound: a collection of impressions collected nowhere; contents of a mind
which is not a container. Here we have the smug unintelligibility of the
modern neo-realist's definition of mind as "a cross-section of the
environment." Hume holds that the only thing that can be said, with full
certainty, to exist is our perceptions (impressions and ideas). In and among
these perceptions there is no causal connection; indeed, there is no knowable
causality anywhere. If things outside us really do exist, there is no proof of
their existence available to us.

Kant Comes Out of His "Dogmatic Slumber"

Over
in Germany, in his native city of Koenigsberg, a professor named Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) read Hume's argument
with dismay, and finally tossed them aside as "dogmatic dreams." Hume
takes away all grounds of certitude; the best a man might have of him is a thin
probability, and this, as Kant noticed, is not usable knowledge at all. What a
man needs, said Kant, and what he can have is truly scientific knowledge,
that is, knowledge that is universally and necessarily true and reliable.

The
experiences of the senses is individual, and, no matter how consistently and
for how long a time the senses find a fact solid, there is always the
possibility that the next experience will show it to vary. So far Kant agrees
with Hume: sense-experience cannot give the mind more than probability. But,
said Kant, there is another element in knowledge, an a priori and subjective
element which is anterior to sense-experience and in no wise dependent on it.
This is the element which enables us to have true and certain knowledge and to
add item to item with complete security in building up the edifice of science.

We
pause here to settle the meaning of important terms. Knowledge that we obtain
through experience is a posteriori knowledge, that is, it comes after
experience and is dependent upon it. Now, it is the Aristotelian, Thomistic, Scholastic, and Contextual Realist doctrine that
all human knowledge is of this type; no knowledge is born in us; no item
of knowledge exists in man except such as has been acquired.

Kant,
however, insisted on the existence of certain "forms" or items of
knowledge (space and time, certain regulative judgments, and certain master-ideas)
as inborn and a priori. Of course, there is a legitimate use of the
terms a priori and a posteriori (literally "from
beforehand" and "from afterwards") in describing types of
argument. But there is no legitimate use of a priori as a term descriptive
of knowledge itself. Kant uses the term so, and he follows the despised Hume so
far as to make the knowledge described by this term a very part of the mind of
man, an element of its being and not merely an element of its equipment.

To
answer the basic question, "What can I know with scientific
certitude?" Kant wrote his book The Critique of Pure Reason. In
this work, Kant assigns to man a threefold knowing-power: sensibility,
intellect, reason. Knowable things, on the other hand, are of two classes:
appearances of things or phenomena, and essences of things or noumena. Man, by sensibility (that is, by his
senses) takes in the phenomena of the world about him. Somehow, we know not
how, the phenomena set his sense-power to work; we dare not say that the senses
perceive even the phenomena as these exist in nature; we may only say that
somehow phenomena stir the senses to act.

Now
the formal constituent, the essential element, of the sensing-power or
sensibility (that is, its character or "shape") is the twofold
determination of space-and-time. Man has sense-experiences
"here" and "now," and he recalls them as "there"
and "then." But this conditioning of phenomena by space and time
is man's own contribution to the knowledge-act. Space and time in no wise represent
things, nor are they things; they are the inborn a priori element of the
sensing-power. Just as a curiously shaped bottle will take in liquid or powder
and conform the mass of the substance taken in to its own shape, so the
sensing-power, which has the shape of space-and-time, takes in the
action of phenomena on the senses and shapes these phenomena accordingly. The
result (that is, phenomena-conditioned-by-space-and-time) is called empirical
intuition.

Now,
just as phenomena stir the sensibility to act, so the finished products of
sensation (that is, empirical intuitions) stir the next knowing power, the
intellect, to act. The intellect takes in the empirical intuitions and
conforms them to its shape, its own inborn a priori forms. These
forms are four sets of triple judgments, called the twelve categories.
These are like grooves or molds into which the molten metal of empirical
intuitions is poured, and the resultant piece of knowledge is, in each case, a judgment.

The
four master categories (each of which has three branches) are: quantity,
quality, relation, and modality. Thus the judgment "A comes from B as
effect from cause" is not the objective knowing by the mind of a state of
fact; it is merely the result of the action of intellect turning the
sense-findings (or empirical intuitions) of A and B through the groove (or
category) of relation, and through that branch of relation called cause-effect.

Once
more, just as the finished products of sensibility (that is, empirical
intuitions) stir the intellect to the act of judging, so the judgments of the
intellect stir the reason to its action. The innate a priori
shape of reason is determined by three master-ideas: the idea of the
self, the idea of the no-self, the idea of the super-self. In
other words, the three regulative ideas of reason are the ideas of self, the
world, and God. The judgments of intellect are poured through the threefold
mold of reason, and the result is reasoned knowledge.

Now,
the essential thing about knowledge, when we attempt to fix its value on the
score of truth and certitude, centers in judgments. After all, reason
merely handles judgments and learns from them. Upon judgments we must fix our
attention. There are two types of judgment, a priori and a posteriori.
Looked at in another way, there are two other types: synthetic and analytic.
We already know the meaning of a priori and a posteriori, and
indeed, according to Kant, all judgments are a priori. We must look at
the other terms.

A
judgment is rightly called synthetic when it is "put
together," for that is precisely what the word synthetic means. If
I make the judgment, "John is sick," I have a synthetic judgment; the
predicate does not necessarily belong to the subject, but I put it with
the subject because I have learned from John or from his doctor that it happens
to belong there. But if I make the judgment, "A circle is round," I
have an analytic judgment; for by analyzing the subject, by studying it
and knowing just what it is, I learn that the predicate used belongs there,
since a circle to be a circle must be round.

Kant
held that the only judgment which can give absolute certitude must be a
priori, since, indeed, he admits no other type. But, he maintains, an a
priori judgment that is analytic marks no advance in knowledge. To
build up science, there must be growth, development, advancement. Hence there
must be synthetic judgments which are also a prior.

The synthetic a priori judgment may be called
the heart of Kant's philosophy. And we may say now in passing that the
synthetic a priori judgment is a contradiction in terms and in thought; it is
an impossibility.

The
examples offered by Kant are either (in our terminology) a posteriori
judgments, or they are analytic judgments. For instance, Kant says that
the judgment "five plus seven equals twelve" is a synthetic a
priori judgment. It is nothing of the kind.
It is a simple analytic judgment.
Replace the words or the figures for five and seven and twelve by an equivalent
number of dots or strokes; you will have exactly the same thing on either side
of the equals-mark. The judgment is as plainly analytic as "A is A."

Let us
cast back a moment, and make a summing up of the Kantian theory of human
knowing:

Notice
that the sole point of connection of man's knowledge with reality outside the
mind is the vague influence of phenomena on the sensing-power. From that point
on, the whole process of knowing, and its products, are man's own. Here is idealism, here is subjectivism
with a vengeance. And Kant plainly asserts that the noumena
or essences of things cannot be known by man. The phenomenon is not strictly
knowable, but it moves the sense to act; the noumenon
is not knowable at all. The noumenon (Das Ding an sich)
lies outside the reach of mortal man.

So
Kant is as subjectivistic
as Hume ever dared be. And yet this is the man who threw Hume's book aside with
the sneer, "Dogmatic dreams!" What singular smugness could have made
Kant suppose that he was dealing with the problem of knowledge critically
and not dogmatically? Yet he calls his system "transcendental
criticism."

Metaphysics Becomes Impossible

Since
we cannot know noumena, the science of metaphysics,
the very heart of philosophy as the Greeks and Scholastics and other followers
of the Perennial Philosophy understand it, becomes illusory and impossible.

Is it not strange that a man of Kant's
undoubted intellectual gifts did not notice here an absurd contradiction? Why,
he has just finished explaining to us, in great detail, the whole nature of the
human mind; and now he concludes that we cannot know the nature of anything!

And
his reasoning about the character of the mind, and about the nature of
phenomena and noumena, is actually interwoven with
terms and thoughts metaphysical; yet he says that metaphysics is illusory
and impossible!

So
much for Kant's Critique of Pure Reason. It will be noticed that the
doctrine contained in this work opens the way to complete
skepticism, and therewith it opens the way to a denial of moral
obligation and of purpose in human existence. For if nothing can be known with
certitude, as skepticism maintains, then there are no certainties in the realm
of morals, religion, or social duties; then there is no certainty that man is
made for a purpose at all, or even that man exists.

Whether
Kant noticed this fact, and, as a Lutheran, deplored it, or whether (as has
been said) his Emperor summoned him and demanded that he furnish a
philosophical basis for morals and religion, cannot be said. But Kant wrote a
second book, The Critique of Practical Reason, to supply the defect
mentioned.

The Critique of Practical Reason

Kant
said that pure reason is not enough for man; he must live by practical
reason as well. In his first book, Kant sought the answer to the question,
"What can man know with certitude?" The answer was, "He can have
true certitude by his synthetic a priori judgments." But this is
mere statement. The real answer to which Kant's work inclines the thinking mind
is, "Man can know nothing with
certitude."

Kant's
second book, The Critique of Practical Reason, answered the question,
"Are there certitudes, outside the reach of pure reason, that I must
recognize and act upon?" Kant answers with an emphatic, There are." These
truths are known with certitude by practical reason. First, a man is
aware of duty. He knows with clear certitude that murder and stealing
are wrong, and that he has the indispensable duty of avoiding such things. He
knows that there are certain loyalties which indicate things that he is in duty
bound to observe and do. By his practical reason, man is aware of the inner
command, "Thou shalt" and "Thou shalt not." This command is categorical, that
is, it is unconditional; it is not, "Do this, if you please,"
"Avoid that when convenient"; it is a matter of simple "Do"
and "Avoid." Kant calls this inner voice The Categorical
Imperative.

A
Christian would call it conscience, and would explain that it is the voice of
reason (the same reason with which we work out a theorem in geometry)
pronouncing on the agreement or disagreement of a situation (here and now to be
decided) with the norm or law of morality. Kant's Categorical Imperative
is like conscience in its clear decision and unequivocal command; it is entirely
unlike conscience in its blindly unreasoning assumption of authority.

First,
then, man's awareness of duty is a certitude; it is a certitude because of The
Categorical Imperative. Now, this Categorical Imperative is a law. But a
law must come from a lawmaker. Neither I myself have set up my Categorical
Imperative (for it often orders me to do what I should like to avoid, and to
shun what I would willingly do) nor has it come from any earthly king, court,
or senate, for it speaks with an authority that is absolute and not one
supported by temporal sanctions of fine or imprisonment. It is a supreme law;
it is an absolute law. It must come then from the Supreme and Absolute Being.
That is, it must come from God. Therefore, God exists.

Further,
the Categorical Imperative makes a man aware, not only of duty, but of the fact
that he must freely embrace the performance of duty. He is aware that he can
disregard, although he cannot be ignorant of, this law of conduct. In a word,
he is aware, and with true certitude, that he is a free and responsible
being.

Again,
man, a free and responsible being, is aware that by freely acting in accordance
with the commands of the Categorical Imperative he perfects himself. And
he is aware that this self-perfecting may go on through the longest life
without reaching the limits of its capability. Therefore, he concludes, he can
go on becoming more and more perfect forever. In other words, man is
aware of endless existence before him; he knows he has an immortal soul.
Thus out of the cunning device of The Categorical Imperative Kant draws
the doctrines that satisfy his Lutheranism (or his Emperor), although his basic
philosophy of "transcendental criticism" knows nothing of these
doctrines. He sets forth, in orthodox fashion, the practical truths of
the existence of God, the fact of moral duty, the immortality of the soul, the
freedom of the human will.

Note:
Kant wrote a third book, The Critique of Aesthetic Judgment, in which he
brings out the attractiveness of moral goodness in a manner more striking than
that of The Critique of Practical Reason.

Despite errors, absurdities, and
contradictions, Kant's philosophy -- notably that of The Critique of Pure
Reason -- has exercised a tremendous influence upon human thinking for
almost two centuries.

It
exhibits the roots of those weaknesses we have come to regard as characteristic
of what is loosely called "the German philosophy."
It refuses to face reality (witness the wholly subjectivistic character of knowledge);
It unduly stresses the ego (witness the inner and
autonomous character of knowledge and morality);
It proclaims the
perfectibility of the will, upon which the followers of Kant were soon to harp
most strongly -- and from Nietzsche to Hitler we are to hear of "the
will to power," the will which makes "the superman" and
"the master race."

A Final Word on Kant

In
offering and defending his low estimate of pure reason as incapable of
achieving certitude (apart from the mysterious judgments which are synthetic
a priori) Kant appeals to his so-called "antinomies" or
"contradictions." He holds that when pure reason tries to apply the
categories in the abstract realm of logical inference (whereas its business is
to pour findings through fixed molds) it gets beyond itself and comes a
cropper. It finds that it can prove, with equal facility, things directly
opposed. Thus, he says, it can prove that space is finite, and also infinite;
it can prove matter divisible and indivisible; it can prove human freedom
existent and nonexistent; it can prove that God is necessary and also
non-necessary.

In all this, and in the examples offered in
proof of it, Kant is entirely gratuitous and sophistical. Besides, he stands
self-condemned in using logical reasoning to establish the fact that logical reasoning
is useless.

We
merely mention the "antinomies" because we discern in them an element
of materialism in the heart of an idealistic theory. This
materialism was to appear in full form in later philosophies which took
inspiration, at least in part, from the doctrines of Immanuel Kant.

Kant's
philosophy is fundamentally wrong and is one of the major contributors to the
intellectual insanity which we see today.