Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Religion
Edited by
D. z. Phillips
and
Timothy Tessin
Claremont Studies in the Philosophy of Religion
General Editors: D. Z. Phillips, Rush Rhees Research Professor, University of
Wales, Swansea and Danforth Professor of the Philosophy of Religion, the
Claremont Graduate School, California; Timothy Tessin
At a time when discussions of religion are becoming increasingly specialized and
determined by religious affiliations, it is important to maintain a forum for
philosophical discussion which transcends the allegiances of belief and unbelief.
This series affords an opportunity for philosophers of widely differing persua-
sions to explore central issues in the philosophy of religion.
Titles include:
Stephen T. Davis (editor)
PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGICAL DISCOURSE
D. Z. Phillips (editor)
CAN RELIGION BE EXPLAINED AWAY?
D. Z. Phillips and Timothy Tessin (editors)
KANT AND KIERKEGAARD ON RELIGION
RELIGION WITHOUT TRANSCENDENCE?
RELIGION AND HUME'S LEGACY
Timothy Tessin and Mario von der Ruhr (editors)
PHILOSOPHY AND THE GRAMMAR OF RELIGIOUS BELIEF
D. z. Phillips
and
Timothy Tessin
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Acknowledgements vii
Voices in Discussion 45
D. Z. Phillips
Voices in Discussion 89
D. Z. Phillips
v
vi Contents
Index 301
Acknowledgements
D. Z.P.
Claremont
vii
Notes on the Contributors
viii
Notes on the Contributors ix
xi
xii Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
matter would be settled, once and for all. But things are not like this.
Kant says that what we can know is to be found within our experience
and the categories of human consciousness. God is not to be found
there. Kierkegaard agrees, saying that we have no objective certainty of
God's existence.
Kant and Kierkegaard are not content with noting what cannot be
said of God. They also offer alternative, positive accounts. Kant says
that belief in God, as it actually operates, is to be found, not in the
realm of theoretical reason, but in the realm of practical reason. Kierke-
gaard says that the kind of truth to be found in religion is a matter of
subjectivity. Kant and Kierkegaard emphasize the importance of the
character of our beliefs in practice. They ought to be free of impurity
and self-deception.
The problem facing us is that philosophers who seem to agree with
these conclusions on the surface mean very different things by them,
or, at least, draw very different conclusions from them. These differ-
ences take us to the heart of disputes in contemporary philosophy of
religion.
When Kant says that religious belief is to be found in the realm of
practical reason, and Kierkegaard connects faith with subjectivity, some
philosophers do not take them to be denying the metaphysical truth of
God's reality. Religious belief, rather than knowledge, is what is open to
us as finite beings. Some philosophers embrace the view that we are not
only finite, but fallen, our reason being as impaired as other aspects of
our nature. We know in part, and see through a glass darkly. It may be
experience that gives us reason to have religious hopes, but, it is insisted,
what we hope is theoretically determinable; it is simply that it cannot
be determined during our earthly existence. We have good reason to
trust that 'how things are' is such-and-such, but we cannot know 'how
things are'. 'How things are' is quite independent of what we say and
think. As far as religion is concerned, we are put to the test by being
asked to believe now what we shall know later. This view, and various
relations to it, is often called realism.
It is sometimes said, against such a view, that it offers no way of deter-
mining the right to say that we shall know certain things when this life
is over - that we shall know how things are. We do not know how to go
about either agreeing or disagreeing with this claim. In reply, however,
it is said that this criticism is a form of verificationism. It assumes that
whatever we cannot verify is unimaginable. In reply it is said that since
I can imagine what is false, I can clearly imagine what is unverifiable. In
religious belief we may have experiential grounds for believing that
Introduction xiii
something is, or will be, the case, although we cannot know that it is, or
will be, the case. This is so where God's existence and immortality are
concerned.
As against this view it is argued that Kant can be seen, and Kierke-
gaard would be seen, as marking out the conceptual space that religion
occupies. Thus, Kant would be seen as saying that religious belief is a
practical, moral belief of a certain kind. It is true that Kant says that
belief in God's existence and immortality arise from reflection on our
moral experience, but it is important to remember that the beliefs so
generated are themselves practical, regulative ideas. It would be con-
fused to search for their theoretical counterparts, since that places the
beliefs in a category to which they do not belong. Similarly, when Kier-
kegaard says that God's existence is objectively uncertain, he is not
referring to an inadequacy on our part, to be contrasted with the certain
existence of God in itself. Rather, he is saying that in the objective, fac-
tual realm the most we get are uncertainties. But an uncertain God does
not meet the requirements of faith. The 'God' of faith is the God who
could only be experienced, or be conceived of, in the realm of subjectiv-
ity. It would not make sense to talk of God in the objective realm.
The 'objective' realm is not one which has any priority over 'subject-
ivity'. 'Existence' is made up of many realms and it is important not to
confuse them. The philosophical realist wants to speak of a reality
which transcends any conceivable realm, but the attempt to do so is
vacuous. The objection is not to distinguishing between the real and
the unreal, but to the assumption that that distinction is simply given. We
have to look to the ways this distinction is used to see what it comes to -
and it doesn't come to the same thing in every context. When it is said
that we cannot do anything with a context-free conception of 'the real'
or 'existence', this is not an instance of verificationism. Rather, it is the
exposure of the illusion that concepts can have a meaning free of the
surroundings, the applications, in which they have their sense.
The philosophical difference I have outlined affects the second issue
of the sense in which Kant and Kierkegaard leave room for faith. It
could be put, from one point of view, by saying that Kant and Kierke-
gaard tried to extend our conceptions of rationality. They are no longer
seen as philosophers who, because religious belief is not rational, try to
locate it in alternative accommodation. Rather, they attempt to show that
an attempt at a purely rational defence of religion is subject to a rational
critique, whereas a resort to the irrational is simply irresponsible. It must
make a difference whether we believe in one thing rather than another.
In this way, we are shown possibilities that we would miss otherwise.
xiv Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
however, the hopes refer to states of affairs which have a theoretical sta-
tus, even if they cannot be verified in this life, we have the difficulty
of ascribing hopes, which have 'theoretical' states of affairs as their
objects, to a form of discourse in which such hopes are not supposed to
make sense. In this way, Kant would be seen as reintroducing theoret-
ical beliefs into the context of practical reason to which, initially, they
were said not to apply.
It is argued, in this connection, that there is a difference between
Kant's first Critique and the second Critique. In the former, religious
belief is treated as a logical possibility, but in the second Critique, we
are told, God and immortality are offered as real possibilities. But it is
the possibility of a hope. What is more, reflection on the moral law
shows that this hope is a necessary one. It follows from the nature of
the moral law. Kant, it is said, is a minimalist in this respect. He offers
us the necessary possibility of a real hope although it cannot be justified
theoretically.
Yet, even if we grant that Kant is a minimalist in this sense, I do not
see how it circumvents the question of the nature of the hope that is a
necessary possibility, or the question of the nature of the object of the
hope. As we saw in the discussion, some could accept this minimalist
picture by asserting that the God and immortality hoped for, while not
theoretically justifiable here, will be theoretically justifiable in the here-
after. In that case, there is no grammatical difference between what is
discussed theoretically in the first Critique and what is the object of a
practical hope in the second Critique. This would mark a real philo-
sophical difference from those who see Kant elucidating a different
grammatical sphere in the second Critique. A parallel disagreement arises
in the treatment of Kierkegaard in our discussion of faith.
The issue can be put in this way: we have already noted that if we had
theoretical knowledge of what is now faith, it would be a denial of our
freedom. Are we to understand this as meaning that what we believe,
say that God exists, does have a theoretical status, but that this is
denied us in this life, so that we may be free to believe or not through
faith? Or are we to say that turning spiritual reality into theoretical
knowledge destroys its very character and that is what faith recognizes?
It does not make sense, on the latter view, to speak of these matters in
theoretical terms. This was a central issue for the conference, as it is in
contemporary philosophy of religion. I suspect that these issues cannot
be resolved in Kantian terms. It would require, as some symposiasts sug-
gest, a rejection of the dualism between the phenomenal and the nou-
menal which lies behind many of these problems. I am reminded of
xvi Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
wine mere symbols or metaphors. Reason does not prevent one from
assenting to the words, 'This is my body' and 'This is my blood'.
It may be said that Kant on grace is very much work in progress, but
his conception of grace seems to be that of a 'top-up' by God after we
have done what we can. The Christian conception of grace, however,
expresses a very different conception of God's relation to the world. For
Kant we have to be worthy of grace by virtue of our general moral dis-
position. By contrast, in Christianity the gift of grace is a mystery. Some
contributors think that this reference to mystery simply refers to our
ignorance about how it works. Others, however, disagree and regard
'mystery' as a category in its own right. It refers to the 'given' character
of grace. There is no underlying explanation. It is as though we are
offered a way of looking at ourselves and are told, 'There it is! It is
offered freely! Grasp it lovingly.'
These issues lead naturally to a discussion of the kind of hope involved
in belief in eternal life. Some symposiasts argue that we are led down a
confused path if we think this hope concerns the prediction that a soul-
substance will enjoy endless duration after death. They argue that both
notions are conceptually confused. Others agree that the former notion
is confused, but still think that the idea of some kind of bodily survival
after death makes sense, as does the notion of endless duration. The latter
idea certainly deserves further attention, since its intelligibility is simply
taken for granted.
Some symposiasts thought it important to distinguish between two
senses of hope. In one case, we hope for something unrealized on the
basis of our present limitations. In the other sense of hope, it is a spirit
one abides in. In terms of this distinction, hope is either seen as a hope
for survival after death, or as a dwelling in the eternal, dwelling in
eternal verities. Even within the second conception there can be disag-
reement about the nature of the abiding. A dispute we have mentioned
previously returns: is grace an enabling gift which allows us to progress
further than we would unaided; or is grace a gift in terms of which we
understand our lives whether we progress or not, an understanding
which is our God-given salvation? Within the second alternative, there
is a temptation to emphasize the eternal present at the expense of death
as the end of all things. This need not be the case, since death still occu-
pies an extremely important position as 'the end of all things' which
marks the eternal destiny of the soul, what I am for all eternity. The
main issue, however, is whether acceptability in God's eyes depends on
a redirection of the will or whether acceptability is rooted in the God-
given possibility of our being seen other than we deserve ethically.
Introduction xix
is easy to identify the speaker to whom my letter refers, but, for obvious
reasons, that cannot be avoided. One reviewer noted that the letters
outnumber the symposiasts. This is because in each session an oppor-
tunity was given for contributions from the audience. Sometimes, when
the same point is elaborated, or a closely related one is made, I have not
hesitated to place it under a single voice if this is philosophically or styl-
istically desirable. That has been done less in the present volume, how-
ever, than in those published previously. The Voices do not take into
account changes in the papers after the conference.
Having come to the end of this collection, you may find yourself
among those who think we need to go beyond Kant and Kierkegaard.
What is clear, however, is that it is extremely difficult to go round them.
Along with Hume, they have determined many of the issues which still
have to be faced in contemporary philosophy of religion. Of course, we
can ignore their questions, but we would be all the poorer for doing so.
Note
1. Religion and Hume's Legacy, ed. D. Z. Phillips and Timothy Tessin (Macmillan
and St. Martin's Press, 1999).
Part I
Kant, Kierkegaard and
Metaphysics
1
Kant and Kierkegaard on the
Possibility of Metaphysics
c. Stephen Evans
3
4 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
Pure reason is, indeed, so perfect a unity that if its principles were
insufficient for the solution of even a single one of all the questions to
The Possibility of Metaphysics 9
On his view, reason should be able to treat questions about the powers
of the human intellect with both completeness and finality. Hence
Kant informs us that he has made completeness his chief aim, and he
ventures 'to assert that there is not a single metaphysical problem
which has not been solved, or for the solution of which the key at least
has not been supplied'. 16
I think that this 'critical' metaphysical project of Kant carries with it
the same kind of claim to finality and certainty that Kierkegaard rejects
when he ridicules the system that is not quite finished. On this key
point Kant stands with Hegel over against Kierkegaard. So if we are to
see a parallel between Kierkegaard's own metaphysics and Kant, we
must look at another side of Kant.
And of course that side is present. Besides speaking of metaphysics as
failed pseudo-science of the transcendent and as successful critique of
the powers of human reason, Kant sometimes speaks of metaphysics in
a third sense, as an enterprise that is closely linked to practical reason. In
speaking of those philosophers who seek an understanding of ultimate
reality, Kant says the following:
One might construe this fairly obscure passage as meaning that aware-
ness of God's reality is simply awareness of some infinite 'idea' in con-
sciousness, perhaps consciousness of an infinite moral demand, which
has no existence independently of consciousness. On this reading, belief
in God would be something rather like belief in an absolute moral
standard, and while such a standard could be seen Platonically as an
'objective reality', it could also be seen as a kind of subjective ideal to
12 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
When the question about truth is asked objectively, truth is reflected upon
objectively as an object to which the knower relates himself. What is
reflected upon is not the relation but that what he relates himself to is the
truth, the true. If only that to which he relates himself is the truth, the true,
then the subject is the truth, the true. When the question about truth is
asked subjectively, the individual's relation is reflected upon subjectively. If
only the how of this relation is in truth, the individual is in truth, even if
he were to relate himself to untruth. 35
The Possibility of Metaphysics 15
This passage, so far from denying that there is such a thing as objective
truth, clearly presupposes that there is such a thing. The question is
whether or not having a relation to that objective truth suffices to make
the individual's life true, and the claim is that it does not. Climacus
maintains rather that if the individual is related in the proper manner
to what the individual perceives as true, the individual will be living
truly even though the individual is related to what is objectively false.
This claim may be vulnerable to criticism in a number of ways; some
may think Climacus naive to believe that the manner in which an indi-
vidual appropriates what he or she perceives as truth is sufficient to
make the individual's life true, though I shall argue below that his view
is defensible in the proper metaphysical context. However, it is in any
case not a denial that there is such a thing as objective truth and it does
not imply that this propositional truth should not be understood in a
realistic manner.
The realistic character of Kierkegaard's thought comes through most
strongly in the emphasis on risk and objective uncertainty. Climacus
argues time and time again that religious faith is a passion and that this
passion, far from being incompatible with objective uncertainty, thrives
on such uncertainty, even demands it. However, the uncertainty and
risk that passion craves is logically linked to the realistic interpretation
of truth as that which even the best human cognitive efforts may miss.
this principle and goes on to argue that since there is knowledge, there
must be access to reality that provides us with foundational absolute
knowledge. The contemporary anti-realist argues that since there is no
such absolute foundational knowledge, there is no such thing as know-
ledge of objective reality. If we couple this claim with some kind of
commitment to verificationism (taken in a broad sense), then the very
notion of an objective reality becomes dubious and even meaningless.
Kierkegaard, however, rejects this conditional premise. On his view,
empirical knowledge necessarily aims at such objective knowledge, even
though there is no such thing as an 'absolute given' nor any 'absolute
method' guaranteed to lead to final knowledge. There is neither unme-
diated nor mediated absolute knowledge, but the whole enterprise of
knowing loses its point if we cease to think of it as a quest for know-
ledge of reality as it is. Rather, he assumes, in a common sense manner,
that knowledge is an attempt to find out how things really are, inde-
pendently of the knower. For example, in arguing against the Hegelian
view that the past can be understood as necessary, Johannes Climacus
claims that historical events are contingent events and that knowledge
of the historical as necessary would not be genuine knowledge, since it
would involve a change in what is known: 'If what is apprehended is
changed in the apprehension, then the apprehension is changed into a
misunderstanding. ,38
Nevertheless, one might think that even if Kierkegaard is a realist
with respect to ordinary empirical knowledge, he is not a realist with
respect to religious knowledge. To see whether or not this is so, let us
examine the case of knowledge of God. If Kierkegaard accepted the
conditional premise specified above, he would certainly reject any real-
istic account of God, for he clearly rejects the claim that any knowledge
of God that is 'objectively certain' can be had, whether immediate or
mediate. The claim that one can have a direct and unmediated experi-
ence of God is stigmatized as paganism,39 and one of the most famous
sections of Philosophical Fragments argues that no logical arguments for
the existence of God can be conclusive. 4o
However, it does not follow from these denials that God cannot be
known at all. It certainly does not follow that one's beliefs about God
cannot be beliefs about a God who has a reality independent of human
thinking. At least these implications do not follow if one rejects the
conditional claim that knowledge of objective reality depends on
absolute foundational knowledge of that reality. Johannes Climacus
does not think of God merely as a set of subjective possibilities. He sees
God as in fact present in or behind the natural world. However, God's
The Possibility of Metaphysics 17
reality and even have a kind of confidence about that reality. How can
the reality of God be both uncertain and certain in this way for the
same individual?
Kierkegaard's answer is that this is the very nature of faith or belief.
Human beliefs in general are objectively uncertain once we go beyond
logical truths and truths about how reality immediately appears to US. 43
Faith or belief is simply the human capacity to resolve this objective
uncertainty and arrive at a conviction. 44 There is a special kind of uncer-
tainty involved in belief in the incarnation, an uncertainty that requires
faith in a special or 'eminent' sense. 45 That special kind of faith should
not obscure the fact that faith in general is simply the human ability to
arrive at conviction about what appears objectively uncertain. There is
what we might call 'Socratic faith', a faith in God's reality grounded in
general human moral and religious experience, and this faith shares in
the general character of faith.
Kierkegaard's view here is not at all strange or bizarre when we turn
our attention away from the modern philosophical tradition and look
at actual human life. All of us do have some convictions, convictions
that may have great strength, and yet we understand that for other
people who do not share the values and assumptions we bring to bear
on the consideration of those convictions, the beliefs in question may
appear uncertain or even plainly false. I am personally absolutely con-
vinced that during the Reagan-Bush presidency the status of the poor
in the United States was severely damaged and the middle class severely
weakened. My confidence in those beliefs is not appreciably weakened
by my knowledge that those who approach the economic data with a
certain set of conservative assumptions find my beliefs dubious. In a
similar manner a person of faith understands that the lack of faith makes
religious convictions seem dubious; nevertheless, if I am a person of faith,
such convictions do not seem dubious to me.
But note that the recognition of the 'subjective' grounds of the belief
in no way entails that the content of the belief must be subjective. My
conviction about the conditions of the poor and the middle class in
the Reagan-Bush presidency is a conviction about how things really
were and are. My conviction about God is Similarly a conviction about
how things are. The objective content of the belief is determined by
the nature of belief itself; it does not rest on or presuppose any special
method that guarantees infallible access to the final truth. I could be
wrong about Reagan and I could be wrong about God. I could protect
myself against a certain kind of risk by transforming my belief about
how things are into a belief about my own future possibilities for
The Possibility of Metaphysics 19
modern people. It is not that earlier people were more credible and
modern people have higher intellectual standards. The claim that unbe-
lief is due to a lack of intellectual evidence is for him simply part of the
self-deception of the modern age, which would like to disguise its rebel-
liousness and insubordination as intellectual honesty.
For Kierkegaard, subjectivity is no 'second-best' fall-back position
with respect to religious knowledge. It is the ground of all genuine reli-
gious knowledge in all times. Even in the times when objective proofs
were regarded as successful, it was faith that supported the proofs, and
not the proofs that supported the faith.48 The reasons why Kierkegaard
thinks that religious knowledge must be grounded in subjectivity have
nothing to do with the limitations of theistic arguments; it is not
the case that religious faith would suddenly become intellectually more
respectable if a new version of the teleological argument were to be con-
structed that would be rooted in the latest findings of biology. Rather,
religious knowledge is linked to subjectivity because there is an essen-
tial link between the attainment of religious insight and the develop-
ment of religious character.
For Kierkegaard, if religious beliefs were purely theoretical in charac-
ter, then there would be no essential link between recognizing the truth
and becoming a different kind of person. Because God is a God of good-
ness and holiness, and because God desires his human creatures to
develop these same qualities, he has designed the world in such a way
that those creatures can only come to know him if they are engaged in
the struggle to become like him. Ultimately, then, for Kierkegaard the
claim that the knowledge of God is grounded in subjectivity is itself
grounded in a traditional picture of God as the creator who has created
a world with a particular structure.
If one thinks, as Kierkegaard clearly does, that the knowledge of God
is essential for a full human life, and if one thinks, as Kierkegaard also
does, that God loves all his creatures and wants them all to enjoy that
knowledge, then linking the knowledge of God to subjectivity makes
sense. Human beings differ markedly in their intellectual abilities and
in their educational opportunities. Every normal human being, how-
ever, is faced with responsible choices about the character of existence.
Every normal human being struggles with guilt and personal responsib-
ility and the development or failure of relationships with others. If the
knowledge of God is grounded in these experiences, and if it depends
essentially on the honesty and courage with which people face the issue
of who they are and how they should live their lives, then that know-
ledge is in principle available to all. It is certainly not limited to those
The Possibility of Metaphysics 21
In all the usual talk that Johannes Climacus is mere subjectivity etc.,
it has been completely overlooked that in addition to all his other
concretions he points out in one of the last sections that the remark-
able thing is that there is a How with the characteristic that when
the How is scrupulously rendered the What is also given, that this is
the How of 'faith'.49
One does not necessarily become the right kind of person merely by
having the right beliefs; in fact, the beliefs cannot even be right in an
important sense if they are not held in the right way. This is so, not
because the beliefs themselves lack objective content or are unimport-
ant, but because God has ordained that it will be this way:
Notes
1. William lames, 'The Dilemma of Determinism', in The Will to Believe and
Other Essays in Popular Philosophy (New York: Dover Publications, 1956),
pp. 145-83.
2. Michael Weston, Kierkegaard and Modern Continental Philosophy: an Introduc-
tion (London: Routledge, 1994), p. 1l.
3. See From the Papers of One Still Living, published as part of S0ren Kierkegaard,
Early Polemical Writings, ed. and trans. lulia Watkin (Princeton: Prince ton
University Press, 1990).
4. Smen Kierkegaard, Concluding Unscientific Postscript, trans. Howard V. and
Edna H. Hong (Princeton: Prince ton University Press, 1992), p. 107 (trans-
lation modified).
5. Kierkegaard, Postscript, p. 122.
6. See Postscript, pp. 304-9 and 313-14, where a distinction is made between
the kind of abstract thinking found in Greek philosophy, which still pre-
served a relation to existence, and the so-called 'pure thought' of modern
philosophy.
7. See, for example, Postscript, pp. 309 and 311, where we are told repeatedly
that 'Greek philosophy was not absentminded', that 'the Greek philosopher
was an existing person, and he did not forget this' and that 'every Greek
thinker was essentially also a passionate thinker'.
8. lames, 'The Dilemma of Determinism', p. 151.
9. lames, 'The Dilemma of Determinism', p. 158.
10. lames, 'The Dilemma of Determinism', p. 152.
11. Immanuel Kant, Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics, ed. and revised
translation by Lewis White Beck (Indianapolis, Indiana: Bobbs-Merrill, 1950),
pp. 8-9.
12. Kant, Prolegomena, p. 25.
13. Kant, Prolegomena, pp. 4-5.
14. Kant, Prolegomena, pp. 76-7.
15. Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, trans. Norman Kemp Smith (New
York: St. Martin's Press, 1965), p. 10.
16. Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, p. 10.
17. Kant, Prolegomena, p. 25.
18. Roger Scruton, A Short History of Modern Philosophy (London: Routledge,
1984), p. 139. Of course Scruton's claim here is doubly wrong. Not only is
he wrong in saying that rational theology is unthinkable, as I here argue.
He is also wrong to say it is unbelievable for Kant. For Kant rational theo-
logy cannot be science; it cannot be known. However, it can and should be
believed.
19. Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, p. 327.
20. Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, p. 327.
21. Kant says repeatedly that speculative metaphysics is not a mere mistake but
a kind of 'natural illusion' rooted in the nature of reason itself, since reason
cannot avoid concerning itself with the ideas in question. See Critique of
Pure Reason, pp. 7,300 and 327.
22. Immanuel Kant, What is Orientation in Thinking?, in Critique of Practical
Reason and Other Writings in Moral Philosophy, ed. and trans. Lewis White
Beck (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1949), p. 302.
The Possibility of Metaphysics 23
23. See Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, pp. 210-11 and many other passages.
24. Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, pp. 530-1.
25. Hans Vaihinger is of course famous for developing such a reading of Kant.
See his The Philosophy of As If (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Co., 1924).
26. Don Cupitt, The Sea of Faith (London: BBC, 1985), p. 154.
27. In this paper I shall assume that the writings ofJohannes Climacus, though
expressed in the 'voice' of a non-Christian, nevertheless represent an accurate
picture of Christianity as seen by such an individual, a picture that is con-
sistent with Kierkegaard's own views. This assumption is not uncontro-
versial, and anyone who finds it dubious may treat the views I discuss as
'Kierkegaardian' (found in Kierkegaard's writings) rather than Kierkegaard's.
For more on the relation of Kierkegaard to Johannes Climacus, see my Kier-
kegaard's Fragments and Postscript: The Religious Philosophy of Johannes Clima-
cus (Atlantic Highlands, New Jersey: Humanities Press, 1983), pp. 6-32; and
also my Passionate Reason: Making Sense of Kierkegaard's Philosophical Frag-
ments (Bloomington, Indiana: Indiana University Press, 1992), pp. 3-12.
28. Postscript, p. 138. For a fuller account of this anti-realist reading of Kierke-
gaard as well as criticism of it and defence of Kierkegaard as a realist, see my
essay, 'Kierkegaard, Realism, and Anti-Realism', in The Cambridge Compan-
ion to Kierkegaard (forthcoming).
29. Richard Rorty, 'The Priority of Democracy to Philosophy', in Philosophical
Papers I (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), p. 188. This claim
is echoed in Volume II of Rorty's Philosophical Papers as well; see p. 32.
30. Hilary Putnam, 'Realism and Reason', Proceedings and Addresses of the Amer-
ican Philosophical Association (50, 6), p. 485. This is quoted approvingly by
William Alston in his own presidential address, 'Yes, Virginia, There Is a
Real World', in Proceedings and Addresses of the American Philosophical Associ-
ation (52, 6), p. 780.
31. Kierkegaard, Postscript, p. 118.
32. Kierkegaard, Postscript, p. 189.
33. I wish to thank my colleague David Hoekema for drawing this objection to
my attention.
34. Kierkegaard, Postscript, p. 199n.
35. Kierkegaard, Postscript, p. 199. (Italics in original.)
36. Nelson Goodman, Ways of Worldmaking (Indianapolis, Indiana: Hackett
Publishing Co., 1978), p. 4. There are plenty of passages where Goodman
could be taken as denying outright the existence of any objective reality.
For example, on p. 6 of Ways of Worldmaking he claims that we construct
worlds not out of nothing, but out of other worlds that are clearly con-
structed as well.
37. Richard Rorty, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature (Princeton: Princeton Uni-
versity Press, 1979), p. 176.
38. Soren Kierkegaard, Philosophical Fragments, ed. and trailS. Howard V. Hong
and Edna H. Hong (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985), pp. 79-80.
39. Kierkegaard, Postscript, pp. 243-5 and 600.
40. Kierkegaard, Philosophical Fragments, pp. 37-44.
41. Kierkegaard, Postscript, pp. 246-7.
42. Kierkegaard, Postscript, p. 545 (my translation).
43. Kierkegaard, Philosophical Fragments, pp. 81-4.
24 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
2S
26 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
context: 'At that very moment begins the learned, the uneasy, the tim-
orous contradiction of approximation. The approximation can go on as
long as it wants to, and because of it the decision by which the indi-
vidual becomes a Christian is eventually forgotten completely' (Kierke-
gaard, 1992, pp. 607-8). But I don't want to press this issue at present.
Rather, I want to note that this position must end in the following as
the only justifiable expression of religious faith: 'I believe in God, but,
of course, I may be wrong.' Now, this seems to me precisely not an
expression of religious faith. Scriptural exemplars of such expression
give no warrant for such a formulation, indeed, rather the opposite.
(See 'On Really Believing' in D. Z. Phillips, 1993, p. 55.) This philosoph-
ical reconstruction of religious belief has lost touch with the actuality of
religious usage. But such a move to 'language on holiday' is not an
incidental feature of metaphysical thinking.
The sense of metaphysics, as Stanley Cavell has argued (Cavell, 1979),
is tied up with the possibility of sceptical questioning. The sceptic raises
a question of justification in relation, not to particular claims to know-
ledge, but to a whole practice of making claims, giving reasons, explain-
ing and justifying. The sceptic does not question whether you are in
pain, but whether we can ever justifiably claim that any human being,
other than the sceptic himself, is, and indeed, whether he is ever con-
fronted by other sentient intelligent beings. And so forth. The sceptic
sees his questioning as directed towards presuppositions he takes to be
involved in any of the ordinary claims we make about other people,
things in our environment, the past, and so on. These presuppositions
have the form, as a presupposition must, of propositions: 'there are
"other minds''', 'there is an "external world''', 'there is a "real past'''.
These propositions are synthetic and so are either true or false. But the
sceptic claims we cannot determine their truth or falsity since they are
presupposed by all the propositions (of that particular kind) whose
truth and falsity we ordinarily claim to be able to determine. Having
stepped (apparently) outside of all our practices, there appears to be
nothing in terms of which justification could be given. Do the judge-
ments we ordinarily claim to be true really correspond to the way
things 'really are'? How could we ever know? Metaphysics is a response
to the sceptic's question, whether claiming, in the kinds of rationalist
metaphysics Kant objected to, that we can indeed know 'the way things
are in themselves' through the use of reason, or in Kant's more modest
form, that, although it is true we cannot know this, nevertheless we are
required to believe that this ('we are embodied immortal souls etc.') is
indeed the way things really are. The metaphYSician of whatever stamp,
28 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
like the sceptic, claims that our ordinary ways of determining truth
presuppose the 'truth' of some further propositions which lie, therefore,
outside their possible reach. These propositions relate to 'the way things
are', which as outside the scope of our ordinary talk of truth and falsity,
reality and unreality, refers to 'things as they are in themselves, reality
as it really is'.
This whole intellectual structure, sceptical or metaphysical, is, how-
ever, confused. The picture of 'things as they really are in themselves' is
mythology. It cannot, as it apparently desires, point beyond our ordin-
ary language since it is itself expressed in it (how else?). To say 'how
things really are' is simply to speak truly. 'The truth' is what a true pro-
position says. But to say 'p is true' is simply to assert p, whilst emphasiz-
ing that this is being done on appropriate grounds, to insist that I am
justified in asserting p. (See P. Winch, 'Im Anfang war die Tat', in
Winch, 1987.) Hence, the issue of what 'true' and 'truth' amount to is a
matter of understanding what 'p' means and what counts here as appro-
priate grounds. But that has to be seen in terms of what we mean by 'p'
and what we count as appropriate grounds. The metaphysician, how-
ever, wants 'the truth' to mean something beyond any ground we take
to be appropriate since it is intended precisely to determine whether
those grounds really are grounds for justification at all. But this is an
empty gesture. The metaphysician or sceptic has himself to be seen as
questioning, raising doubts, and (in the case of the former), as answer-
ing. A proposition is asserted. But, as Cavell points out, 'not just any-
thing people will do will be asserting, calling', 'to say (or think)
something is the case you must say or think it and "saying that" (or
"thinking that") has its conditions' (Cavell, 1979, p. 239). The sceptic
wishes to question our knowledge in its totality, but in order for his
questions to have the alarming consequences he proposes (and which
the metaphysician wishes to counter) he must allow his questions to
arise naturally. But this he cannot do. The oddity we experience in his
questioning, which the sceptic takes for illumination, is produced by
his abandoning the conditions for his asserting, questioning, etc., that
is, for doing something with his words. So he asks how we can know
someone is really in pain in a situation where the question 'why do you
think this expression of pain gives a false picture of it?' has no answer
(Cavell, 1979, p. 216). Or, in order to raise the question of whether we
really do know there is a fire (table, chair, etc.) here, he must first claim
that we think we 'know' it (that we are making a claim to knowledge) in
a situation where 'how does he know it?' has no answer, or not the
right kind of answer, where the 'reasons' that are given (he just looked
The Possibility of Metaphysics - a Reply 29
on our lives. The religious believer is meant to say 'Our Father which
art in Heaven (although possibly not)', or we are meant to say 'She's
terribly cut and crying out, but whether she's feeling anything, of
course, I can't know', but then this is to make no practical difference.
The sceptic and metaphysician both claim that the religious believer's
worship and her religious life in general, all her use of religious lan-
guage, rest on the belief that there really is a God to worship and for
that language to be about. 'God exists' is here meant to be a claim about
'what really is in itself' and which underlies the possibility of truth for
all other religious utterances. As such a claim, it could be false. But this
is precisely such a distortion of religious use. The religious believer is
not prepared to say 'God may not exist' (see 'On Really Believing', in
Phillips, 1993). It is not 'a matter of fact' that God exists. God is said to
be 'eternal', but this doesn't mean 'always exists' since something
which always exists might not have done. To say 'God exists, but might
not have done' is to utilize the language of physical objects, animals
and people. But a physical object or a person is one of a kind. God,
however, is not one of a 'kind', is not 'an object', even a unique one,
since a unique object might not have been so. But then 'God' is not a
'name' (see Rhees, 1969). The 'reality' of God is not something shared
with anything else, as would be suggested by the sceptic's and meta-
physician's gesturing towards 'reality as it really is' in which God is
meant to participate. God has 'divine reality', and what this means
must be seen in the way we speak in religious contexts of 'truth', 'fals-
ity', 'belief' and 'unbelief'. The usage here of the latter term is suggest-
ive. I may believe there is a Yeti. You may believe there is not. But we
wouldn't speak of 'unbelief' here since we both share a common form
of language within which the claim is being made: we share common
criteria for what we are talking about, standards of evidence, reason giv-
ing, and the rest, which will be exemplified in the other ways we talk
about animals. But 'There is no God' (said by one person) is not related
to 'There is a God' (said by another) as -p is to p. They are not contra-
dictory opinions within a shared form of language. To come to 'believe
in God' is not to come to believe that what one thought was false
('There is a Yeti') is true, according to standards already accepted, but of
coming to inhabit a new form of language, coming to have new con-
ceptions of what can be said. 'Coming to believe' is 'converSion', a
'turning around' of one's life. 'Belief' here is not, as the sceptic or meta-
physician claim, an 'epistemic' notion. 'I believe there is a Yeti' is an
admission I am not in a position to say 'I know'. This inadequacy is
judged in terms of where my pOSition would be (in terms of the sort of
The Possibility of Metaphysics - a Reply 31
11
else, into another kind of certainty' (pp. 11-12), that form (epistemic)
of 'certainty' which is appropriate to intellectual and scholarly matters.
This 'delusion' is to be revealed by the 'dialectician' (clearly in the
Socratic rather than the Hegelian sense) who reveals the contradiction
between such matters and the issue of faith. Thus, Climacus as dialecti-
cian in Part One of the Postscript is concerned to distinguish between
the senses which 'belief', 'certainty', 'truth' and related notions have in
historical and philosophical (speculative) contexts from those they
have in religious, specifically Christian, ones, by showing the confu-
sions involved when the 'truth' of Christianity is construed as the
object of historical or philosophical research. In the latter, 'truth' is
'objective'. That is, the object of research is the standard, and the sub-
ject who conducts the research is to do so 'disinterestedly', imperson-
ally so as to claim universal validity for her findings. Such a claim,
whether of certainty, or that the result is the best possible hypothesis
available at present, or that the issue is doubtful, must be justifiable by
the production of equally impersonal evidence. But our relation to the
'truth' of Christianity can't be like this, since this 'truth' would be one
for our lives and we cannot regard our own life 'disinterestedly' as an
'object'. What is at issue here is the very subjectivity of the one who
raises the question itself. Hence the sense of 'question' must itself be
different: it is the question of the meaning of one's own life, and so the
issue can only be present where the individual has such a 'problem':
that is, in the context of a certain kind of radical despair. We can recog-
nize the 'objective truth' but it remain a matter of indifference to
us, but we can't intelligibly say 'I know Christianity is true, but so
what?' To imagine that the 'truth' of Christianity is a matter for dis-
interested inquiry is to be confused. 'Christianity, therefore, protests
against all objectivity; it wants the subject to be infinitely concerned
about himself. What it asks about is the subjectivity; the truth of Chris-
tianity, if it is at all, is only in this; objectively, it is not at all. And even
if it is only in one single subject, it is only in him' (p. 130). The 'truth'
of Christianity is 'in' the subject. To say 'Christianity is true', therefore,
is always a personal utterance: it only has a sense in the first-person.
'The truth of Christianity' has no impersonal sense and there is no
general problem which is that of 'the truth' of Christianity: hence, one
cannot 'become a Christian' (and Climacus poses the 'question' of the
Postscript as that of what it is to 'become a Christian') by first inquiring
whether Christianity is 'true', assuming that if one could find out then
one would know whether to become a Christian or not. The sense of
the 'certainty' of faith is different from the 'certainty' of an objective
The Possibility of Metaphysics - a Reply 33
result. Existential certainty 'can be had only in the infinite in which ...
(the individual) cannot be as an existing person but at which he is con-
stantly arriving' (p. 81); 'The infinite and the eternal are the only
certainty, but since it is in the subject, it is in existence' (p. 82). The
'infinite' and the 'eternal' are 'in' the subject, characterize the kind of
certainty at issue. Such certainty is a matter of how the individual lives
in that this how is not dependent on 'objective results' and so on how
things turn out. In this sense, she lives in God (God is not 'something
external').
Professor Evans notes how things said later in the Postscript appear to
contradict this. But such contradictions are the deliberate result of Cli-
macus engaging in Part Two in exactly the kind of intellectual inquiry
he has just shown to be confused, one which results in the revelation
of Christianity as 'the truth' for the existing individual. 'I shall now
describe subjective reflection in its search back inward into inwardness'
(p. 199). Now, according to the sense of 'subjectivity' in Part One, 'sub-
jective reflection' could either mean a reflection (disinterested) into the
categories of subjectivity, one result of which is to show that no disin-
terested inquiry can show the 'subjective truth', or a reflection by an
individual about her own life in relation to a 'problem' in the existen-
tial sense (some form of despair). But 'subjective reflection' in Part Two
is neither. It is a diSinterested inquiry into subjectivity which claims to
reveal the 'subjective truth' and so constitutes (according to Part One) a
confusion. The results of this inquiry are summarized on page 230:
'if ... subjectivity is truth and subjectivity is existing subjectivity, then
Christianity is a perfect fit. Subjectivity culminates in passion, Christian-
ity is paradox, paradox and passion fit each other perfectly.' Reflection
on the nature of subjectivity reveals Christianity as its truth. Climacus'
argument is that only the passionate involvement which is Christian is
adequate to satisfy the individual's need for meaning for her life as a
whole, so that all the individual's attempts at living a meaningful life
find their telos in Christianity. (The Hegelian form of this is clear
enough.) Only as a Christian does the individual become a self and so
becomes who she is. This argument is presented concretely in the form
of a pseudo-Hegelian dialectic of individual existence through which
Climacus expounds the other pseudonymous writings (Kierkegaard,
1992, pp. 251-3) and which seems to be as follows.
In Either/Or, Judge William criticizes the aesthete A for failing to be a
self through attempting to live his life in terms of constant possibility.
In order to attain selfhood, the individual must make herself actual, by
imprinting the very form of the'!', of that which she always is, upon
34 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
art of being able to communicate eventually becomes the art of being able
to take away or to trick something away from someone' (p. 275). Since
the second part of the Postscript is said by Climacus to be another
attempt at what Philosophical Fragments did, we can apply this to the text
we are reading. It, too, is written for people who 'know too much' and
its form of communication is not to give them something more to know
(an intellectual demonstration of the superiority of Christianity) but to
take their presumed knowledge away, to 'trick' them out of it. The dem-
onstrations of the Postscript are themselves a 'parody' whose intention
is to get the cultured reader to recognize this and so to recognize that
their desire for an intellectual justification for Christianity, apparently
defeated in Part One but which the 'enormous effort' in trying to under-
stand the demonstrations of Part Two shows they still harbour, is a desire
for an illusion and one which prevents them relating to the existential
communication of Christianity in the way any simple person must. That
communication is the person of Christ who summons us to give up all
we have and follow Him, to take Him as 'the Way, the Truth and the
Life'. To require a justification (a 'metaphysics' which shows through a
disinterested reflection on 'existence' and 'subjectivity' that this really is
'the truth') is not to give up everything. This is why Climacus appends
to the book its revocation: 'everything is to be understood in such a way
that it is revoked, that the book has not only an end but has a revocation
to boot' (p. 619).
III
their own lives. This 'how' is to be their own 'truth', the 'truth for you',
the 'truth' which is true as lived. The intellectual way of evading such
responsibility is thus to assume there is 'the truth' of human life in
terms of which the significance of one's own life would be determined,
an 'objective truth' rather than the 'subjective truth' of 'truth for you'.
In this way, the illusion of the modern age is to have 'abolished the "I",
the personal "I'" (Journals, entry 656) through making 'everything
objective' (ibid.). Kierkegaard's 'indirect' communications are directed
towards intervening in this illusion, in recalling his readers to them-
selves, to the resposibility they have for their own lives, to regaining a
'primitive impression' of existence.
This in itself suggests that it is mistaken to regard the pseudonymous
works as presenting 'possible' forms of existence. This is indeed what
much literature does for Kierkegaard. The 'more artistically finished the
novel becomes, the less it enters into life, the more it pampers and cod-
dles people by dealing enjoyably with such things in the realm of the
imagination. To believe that the artistic helps one into actuality is just
as mistaken as to believe that the more artistically complete the
sermon, the more it must influence the transformation of life - alas, no,
the more it influences life esthetically, the more it influences away from
the existential' (Journals, entry 827). And in general, the presentation of
possibility does not enter into the transformation of life: 'The fact is
that when I understand something in possibility, I do not become
essentially changed, I remain in the old ways and make use of my
imagination; when it becomes actuality, then it is I who am changed,
and now the question is whether I can preserve myself' (Journals, entry
3346). The pOint of the 'indirect' communications is that they should
enter into the actuality of the reader's life through occasioning a self-
recognition of an illusion in relation to the ethical or religious. In this
way, the only model Kierkegaard recognizes is Socrates. The Socratic
dialogues 'end without a result' (Journals, entry 4266), and in this they
'are a reproduction of Socrates' maieutic skill which makes the reader or
hearer himself active, and therefore they do not end in a result but in a
sting' (ibid.). They enter into the actuality of the reader's or hearer's
existence through leading them to a moment of self-knowledge, that
they do not know what they claim. And it is this character of Socrates'
activity which distinguishes him from the poets and underlies his rejec-
tion of them. 'What Socrates really meant by wanting to have "the
poets" expelled from the state was that by writing in the medium of the
imagination instead of precipitating men into ethical realization in actu-
ality, the poets spoiled them ... or kept them from it ... Plato himself is
42 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
References
Cavell, Stanley, The Claim of Reason (Oxford, 1979).
Conant, ]., 'Wittgenstein, Kierkegaard and Nonsense', in T. Cohen and P. Guyer
(eds.), Pursuits of Reason (Lubbock, 1993).
Conant, J., 'Putting Two and Two Together', in T. Tessin and M. von der Ruhr
(eds.), Philosophy and the Grammar of Religious Belief (London, 1996).
Kierkegaard, S., The Point of View for my Work as an Author, trans. W. Lowrie (New
York, 1962).
Kierkegaard, S., Journals and Papers, trans. H. and E. Hong (Bloomington, 1967).
44 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
4S
46 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
those who deny God are certainly contradicting those who believe that
he exists.
Belief is an epistemic notion. If I say that I believe in the Abominable
Snowman, but admit to having no evidence, it does not follow that I do
not have the belief. We often look to the life to see what a person
believes, not to the evidence.
For Kierkegaard, the problem is not evidence, where belief is con-
cerned, but self-deception. He holds that no evidence is necessary, but
it is still belief and he can be right or wrong about it. It is connected
with having the proper attitudes.
I think B confuses the stance from which these questions must be
addressed, with the nature of the questions. Just because the stance is
subjective, it does not follow that the questions aren't real questions, or
that I can't be wrong.
I don't agree at all with B that the second half of the Concluding Unsci-
entific Postscript is a parody of intellectual inquiry. If that were so, it
would be a parody which has misled many great minds in their reading
of Kierkegaard.
B: I am concerned to identify something which is taken for granted in
disputes between realists and anti-realists. The former say that for the
believer God is real. Well, of course, who is denying that? The question
concerns what that means. The believer thinks that belief in God is true or
justified if and only if there is a God. Well, yes, who would deny that?
Metaphysics, however, is an extrapolation from such ordinary talk.
Real words are taken out of their ordinary contexts. A offered us a pic-
ture: the propositions of language refer to reality, whether or not we
can find this out in all cases. Here we see a separation of 'the real' from
epistemological considerations - that is what I am concerned with. This
separation is an illusion, and yet it is what realism presupposes. 'The
book is on the table only if the book is on the table' - sure. But we can
only make sense of this if we look at the conditions for such assertions.
If the book was not on the table, but you keep on saying, in the pres-
ence of the empty table, There is a book on the table', your words have
become quite empty. You would not be making an assertion at all. We
wouldn't know what you were saying. It is only when we know what
the conditions for assertion are that we can speak of doubt.
What is essential to note is that these conditions are not simply
given. We must look to the context to see what distinctions between
truth and falsity amount to. Distinctions between the real and the
unreal are extremely varied. You can't just ask in the abstract, 'Is it like
that or not?'
Voices in Discussion 47
That is what makes it a belief, and we can have doubts about it. Indeed,
it may be false. There is a story Kierkegaard tells about a pastor who, see-
ing his flock weeping because of conviction of sin, said, 'Don't worry
little flock, it may all be an illusion.' That is a real possibility.
F: Sure it is, but you need to distinguish between making a mistake
within a way of thinking and coming to the conclusion that a whole
way of thinking is an illusion. When we look to religious language
games we may find that belief there does not mean 'hypothesis'. But
this does not mean, that it could not be false. Things other than hypo-
theses can be false. B needs to say more on this.
Q: There is a danger in saying that what we mean by God's reality is to
be found in our inter-subjective discourse, namely, that this does not
do justice to God's incomprehensibility. God is always more than we
can say.
G: I take the point that conditions for assertability vary and that, with-
out them, our words would mean nothing. Taking these differences
into account B says that we see that God is not a thing. What I do not
see is how that must lead to the conclusion that we are not making
assertions where God's reality is concerned.
B: What I was protesting against was the attempt to separate notions of
truth from epistemological considerations. It is then assumed by A that
I am denying something, say, God's reality. But I am not denying any-
thing. I'm exploring the meaning of 'real' or 'unreal' here.
G: I recognize that. What I do not see is the relevance of that point to
the issue of whether assertions are being made.
B: Well, I don't think assertions, so conceived, have a natural home in
the way believers speak. I do not think they go around asserting that
God exists.
What the realist does is to use the assertion in a way which is innocu-
ous if it refers to a natural context, as when he says that no one would
pray to God unless he thought there was a God to pray to, but, then, in
his philosophizing, use that phrase in a way which distorts its religious
use. The realist keeps moving back and forth, in confusing fashion,
between innocuous statements to which everyone would agree, and the
metaphysical use which is not innocuous, but confusing. Suppose
someone said, '5herlock Holmes exists.' Fine. But we need to know
something about fiction before we know what saying that amounts to.
The same goes for 'God exists.' You have to look to religious contexts.
H: I think you are assuming that to be a realist one must embrace a
correspondence theory of truth. That is not so. I'm a realist, but I do not
accept that theory.
50 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
B: I just want people to pay attention to the constant moving back and
forth between natural, innocuous uses of 'real' and what the realist does
with that term.
By the way, people seem to assume that if one wants to reject realism
one must be an anti-realist. But if realism is a confusion, its negation
would be equally confused. My main point is that the realist talks as
though the meaning of 'real' is simply given, as though no grammatical
work needs to be done.
A: B says the use of 'real' is often platitudinous. Well, a great deal is at
stake. Those who believe in God think that there is such a being and
those who deny this proposition, such as Bertrand Russell, do not.
e: But then what does 'assenting to a proposition' amount to? In an
earlier conference it was asserted that in the three days for which
Russell thought the ontological argument was valid, Russell believed in
God. But, surely, Kierkegaard would regard that as a joke, as an intellec-
tualized displacement of religious belief.
I: It seems to me that the distinction between conceptual and factual
issues clouds the discussions between A and B: A wants to insist on fac-
tuality, and B wants to insist on clarifying our concepts. But it seems
clear, does it not, that unless we are clear about the concepts we are
using, we don't know what it means to determine what is the case in
situations governed by those concepts.
Take the notion of 'the end of time', or infinite duration. I may under-
stand 'the end of this conference', 'the end of the semester', but I'm puz-
zled if I try to think of 'the end of time' as though it indicates a time.
A: I do not think the burden of proof is on me. I am being told that
I can't imagine this or that - endless duration, or survival after death.
Well, I say I can imagine it quite well. Just because I can't verify it, it
doesn't mean that I can't imagine it. The ancients thought that the
motion of the planets was eternal. That was false, but it was certainly
imaginable.
J: But the difficulty is deeper. You assume that we know what the fact
means, but that while some can imagine it, others cannot. But what
fact? The difficulty comes in spelling out the intelligibility of what is
being said.
A: Socrates said that no wise man would insist on the details of life after
death, yet he still believes it is true. So it could be factually true, while
being conceptually problematic.
F: But we can ask certain questions to clarify the grammar. For example,
Does it make sense to think of the Day of Judgement coming at a certain
date? This may cast light on the notion of 'the end of time'.
Voices in Discussion 51
ss
56 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
namely, God. Faith, then, is entirely a gift of God. Like Kant, Kierke-
gaard has set aside reason in order to make faith both possible and
necessary.
Having laid out the skeleton of his position in the Fragments, Kierke-
gaard proceeded to 'clothe' it with religious significance in his Conclud-
ing Unscientific Postscript, under the pseudonym ]ohannes Anti-Climacus.
Here he delineates the dichotomy between objective knowledge and
subjective faith even more forcefully. Put bluntly, the point is simply
that a relationship to eternal truth can in no way be dependent on
either speculative philosophy or empirical reason because it is strictly
a matter of personal commitment and faithfulness in living, not cognit-
ive activity. 'Christianity does not lend itself to objective observation
precisely because it proposes to intensify subjectivity to the utmost.'
By way of summary of this brief review of the standard interpretation
of the approach to the relationship between reason and faith offered by
Kierkegaard, it can be said that he distinguishes between the two, not in
order to call attention to two forms of knowledge, but in order to set
faith, as a mode of existence, over against all forms of knowledge. He is
not opting for subjectivity in matters of objective knowledge, but for
subjectivity in matters of human existence, or faith, which is in no way
involved with epistemological considerations. Thus, in Kierkegaard's
view, the realms of faith and knowledge are entirely separate, thus they
can neither support nor conflict with one another.
That this position is essentially Kantian should be fairly clear by now.
The basic dichotomy between what we can have knowledge of and
what we cannot, the role of reason in pointing out its own limitations,
and the association of matters of religious faith with those of ethical
values and personal decision-making are all central to the thought of
both of these important thinkers. Moreover, together these emphases
have formed the fulcrum of what we have come to know as the 'modern'
understanding of the relationship between reason and faith, one which
avoids the more traditional conflicts between them by granting to each
its own domain. Each is autonomous in its appropriate arena and nei-
ther can interfere in the business of the other.
11
what can be known, while in the latter case this is not true. Thus in the
latter case the very incompleteness suggests something beyond itself. As
Kant says: 'Metaphysics leads us towards in the dialectical attempts at
pure reason, not undertaken arbitrarily ... but stimulated thereto by the
nature of reason itself.' It is nature itself that has endowed us with the
predisposition to seek 'not only the bounds of the use of pure reason,
but also the way to determine them'.
In Kant's view, then, it is the transcendental Ideas (of God, freedom
and immortality), which we can neither keep from thinking nor ever
give content to, that lead us, not only to the acknowledgement of the
reality of the bounds of reason, but to their location and nature as well.
The very possibility of such ideas leads us to 'the spot' where experi-
ence, structured by the categories of the understanding as the phe-
nomenal world, 'touches the void (that of which we can know
nothing, namely the noumena)'. Kant's use of embodied, kinaesthetic,
and tactile metaphors at this juncture is especially significant in its
own right, and I shall return to it momentarily. The main point here is
that whereas limits are experienced exclusively as negations, bounds
carry as well a positive significance. The point at which what we
know, phenomenal reality, 'connects' with what we do not know,
noumenal reality, is the pOint at which we are rationally forced to
think the transcendental Ideas, even though we can never rationally
know them, content-wise. These Ideas necessitate positing the exist-
ence of the noumena, of things-in-themselves, beyond our experience
in the phenomenal world because they 'actually have reference to
something distinct from them ... as appearances always presuppose
an object in itself, and therefore suggest its existence whether we can
know of it or not'.
On his way to proposing what might be called a 'chastened theism',
Kant makes a further distinction between attempts to project human
characteristics directly on to God, what he calls 'dogmatic anthropo-
morphism', and 'symbolical anthropomorphism', which reason not
only allows but requires. This latter, which leads to a transcendental but
not to a transcendent metaphysics, only attributes characteristics of human
experience to the relation of God to the world, not to God's nature as
such, and thus is concerned with language rather than with noumenal
reality itself. The crux of this distinction is presented in terms of the
notion of analogical predication. To speak of God as 'Supreme Under-
standing and Will' in relation to the world is not to convey knowledge
of divinity as it is in itself, but only as it is known to us, just as to speak
of a shipbuilder or a commander as wise and powerful, respectively,
Faith Not without Reason 63
says nothing about them as such, but only in relation to their ship or
regiment.
This shift from the idea of analogy of attribution to that of analogy of
relationality allows Kant to move beyond the limited deism generally
associated with his approach to a theism which yet avoids attributing
human characteristics to divinity. For his brand of theism only speaks
of God on the basis of analogies drawn from the categories of the under-
standing in a formal rather than in a material manner. Rationality, for
instance, is attributed to God, not directly and per se, but as the ground
of all rationality as it is experienced in the world. Thus we speak of the
world as if its existence and nature are the result of the wisdom of a
Supreme Being by analogically transferring the ground of causal rela-
tionships from this world to its source. Kant calls this 'chastened' or 'crit-
ical' theism 'the true mean between dogmatism, which Hume combats,
and scepticism, which he would substitute for it'.
Kant returns to the spatial and kinaesthetic metaphor of a boundary,
which differs markedly from the static, passive imagery of the first Cri-
tique, in order to underscore his contention that the brand of theism he
is promoting signifies a positive cognitive dimension as well as a negat-
ive one. He stresses the point that a boundary 'belongs to that which
lies within as well as to the space that lies without' itself and thus yields
'an actual positive cognition which reason only acquires by enlarging
itself to this boundary'. The bounds of reason constitute a relation as
well as a negation between the phenomenal reality of our experience
and the noumenal reality beyond our experience. In this way Kant can
be understood as making room for faith, but a faith which is not
entirely without reason. I would submit that such a faith alone may be
called responsible.
It is helpful to bear in mind that the term 'limits' in the title of Kant's
book Religion Within the Limits of Reason Alone should actually be trans-
lated 'bounds'; Kant works out his distinction between the phenomenal
and the noumenal, and thus his understanding of the place of faith, in
relation to boundaries, not limits. Thus the title of P. F. Strawson's
excellent work on Kant's philosophy, The Bounds of Sense. I am indebted
to Professor Stephen Palmquist for bringing this important point to my
attention.
I should like now to explore the possibility of understanding Kierke-
gaard's approach to reason and faith in a way quite different from the
standard interpretation. My overall claim is that in his pseudonymous
writings Kierkegaard was not seeking to contrast reason and faith, but
was intent on 'deconstructing' this traditional dichotomy in its entirety.
64 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
III
of dance he or she wishes, for reality often has an agenda of its own as
well. Nevertheless, through interactive co-operation, conflict and res-
olution, the two dancers together create the world as we know it, and
thus the knower comes to 'know' reality.
The same issue arises when Kant speaks of our reasoning analogically
from the world to its cause as we do from a watch or a ship to its maker.
He focuses on the relationship between the artifact and the creator, and
only in passing mentions that between 'a regiment and its commander'.
What is surprising, however, is that Kant never notices that the relation-
ship in the former case is a one-way, causal and thus passive one from
the point of view of that which is made, while in the latter case this is
not true. A commander does not cause or create a regiment in a one-way
fashion; rather, the relationship between the two is an interactive, per-
sonal one that far exceeds the limitations of mere causal connections.
Kant would have been well advised to pursue this interactive example
more thoroughly.
The significance of all this for our purposes here is indeed consider-
able. Clearly, the results of one's approach to natural theology are going
to be different depending on the sort of root metaphor one begins with.
Kant's initial commitment to a visual metaphor led him to an inter-
pretation of the bounds of reason whose inherent passivity and staticity
renders the cognitive gulf between the human and the divine essen-
tially unbridgeable. Had he followed up on his more interactive, rela-
tional motif, employing movement and touch, he might have been able
to develop an interpretation of the bounds of reason which enables our
knowledge of reality, including God, to be more viable and positive. If
we begin by assuming a fundamental gap between the knower and the
known, between ourselves and reality, it is little wonder that we can
never fully exorcise the demon of scepticism. What, it must be asked, is
the rationale for such an initial assumption? Given the ]udaeo-Christian
belief in the image of God in human nature, as well as in the created
structure of the world, it would seem more likely and profitable to begin
by assuming an interactive relationship between ourselves, the world
and God.
When the issue is approached from this angle, the concept of 'things in
themselves' has no function whatsoever. There is nothing left unex-
plainable or unknowable in principle; what we can know, we know
through interaction, and what we cannot know we have no need or way
to talk about. This is neither a limitation nor a lack, it is simply the nature
of human cognition. We are led into thinking that we are somehow
falling short of true knowledge by first positing 'things in themselves'
70 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
and then lamenting that we cannot know them. The very distinction
Kant makes between how things are in themselves and how they are
known by us is itself made within the structures and functions of
human cognitive activity. Had Kant taken a more relational image for
his model of knowledge at the outset, he might never have had to speak
of reality, including God, as independent of its interaction with those
cognitive agents whose participation contributes to that reality's essen-
tial character.
For his part, Kierkegaard develops and demonstrates the metaphoric
mode of expression and reasoning by juxtaposing his attack on ration-
alism, the message of his pseudonymous works, and his voluntarist
alternative, the medium of these same works. The elements of this jux-
taposltioning cancel each other out, leaving the reader free to discern
the basic truth that faith is neither a matter of reason nor unreason;
rather, it is a mode of existence based in trust and characterized by faith-
fulness. It certainly is not mere mental assent, but neither is it an
emotional state nor a superhuman act of the will.
A brief analysis of the New Testament use of the terms which are gen-
erally translated 'believe' (pisteuo) and 'faith' (pistos) should make it
clear that the above definition of religious commitment harmonizes
rather nicely with the original Christian meaning. The former usage
divides into two categories depending on the particle used directly after
the verb. Sometimes it is followed by 'that' (hoti), in which case the
meaning is that someone believes that something or other is in fact the
case. This is usually said to signify the cognitive aspect of faith as
expressed, for example, in stating a creed or theological doctrine. At
other times the verb 'to believe' is followed by a preposition meaning
'in' or 'on' (en or eis). This is generally understood as signifying the
commitment aspect of faith, as when a person puts their trust in
another person or in God. Thus the dichotomy between 'belief in' and
'belief that'.
However, I do not think that there is as much difference between
these two aspects of belief as the standard way of posing the dichotomy
claims. There clearly is a great deal of commitment involved in cognit-
ivity, since any such judgements entail accrediting one's own rational
powers, what Michael Polanyi has termed 'the personal dimension' of
all knowing. Likewise, there is a great deal of cognitivity in any serious
commitment, otherwise it is impossible to tell the difference between
trust and credulity. Some would have us believe that 'belief that' must
precede 'belief in' and others would say just the opposite. I am con-
vinced that it is impossible to separate these two dimensions of human
Faith Not without Reason 71
From my graduate school days when I first read ]erry Gill's work,
through the days when he introduced me to the Society for Philosophy
of Religion and encouraged me as a scholar, I have had reason both to
admire and be grateful to him. I continue to benefit from his ways of
thinking in this rich and provocative paper, 'Faith Not without
Reason'. I find congenial Gill's suggestion that Kant and Kierkegaard
both made 'room for faith' by mitigating or undercutting dichotomies
between reason and faith, as well as between intellect and volition. In
part this is because I would expect affinities between Kant and Kierke-
gaard (based on the principle that 'the enemy [SK] of my enemy [Hegel]
is my friend'), and in part because I expect great minds to undercut or
transcend traditional dichotomies. I am in sympathy with his claim
that both Kanfs understanding of the 'bounds' of reason and his view of
analogical or metaphorical uses of language preclude the need to oppose
reason and faith starkly, and hence the need to set reason aside. More-
over, I have elsewhere argued at length that one can find in Kierkegaard's
writings resources for transcending the dichotomy between intellect
and will, between passive and active. 1 Thus, I am in sympathy with his
suggestion that Kierkegaard points us beyond a rationalist/volitionalist
divide. In principle, then, I could affirm and further develop Gill's 'pos-
sible and fruitful' readings, but what I want to do here instead is sketch
an alternative way in which to see Kant and Kierkegaard making 'room
for faith'. My alternative is not intended to undermine Gill's readings,
but in the process of developing my alternative, I will, in effect, raise
some questions about Gill's readings.
Since I find Gill's construal of faith as 'faithfulness' important, my
alternative will suggest that Kant and Kierkegaard made 'room for
faith(fulness)' by using categories of possibility and hope to transcend
73
74 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
(a) Kant's Critique of Pure Reason obviously highlights the marked con-
trast between theoretical and practical approaches, but it does not leave
us with a simple opposition. Kant also reminds us of a third dimension
when he adds to the questions 'What can I know?' and 'What ought
I do?' the following question - 'What may I hope?'4 While the first
question, he says, is 'merely speculative', and the second is 'purely
practical', the third - 'If I do what I ought to do, what may I then
hope?' - 'is at once practical and theoretical, in such fashion that the
practical serves only as a clue that leads us to the answer to the theoret-
ical question, and when this is followed out, to the speculative ques-
tion.' The character of human anthropology in general and of religion
in particular is not complete without accounting for hope: 'all hoping is
Making Room for Faith 75
(b) The Critique of Practical Reason explores these two postulates further
and suggests that Kant makes 'room for faith' precisely by guaranteeing
an affirmation of possibility. What kind of affirmation of what kind of
possibili ty?
Consider some textual warrant for the claim that reason in its practical
employment postulates the possibility of God and immortality. In the
preface we find Kant insisting that 'The idea of God and immortality ...
are the conditions of applying the morally determined will to the object
which is given to it a priori ... Consequently, the possibility of these
conditions can and must be assumed in this practical context without
our knowing or understanding them in a theoretical sense' (emphasis
mine, 4). Contrasting the postulates of mathematics with those of pure
practical reason, he writes that the latter 'postulate the possibility of an
object (God and the immortality of the soul) from apodictic practical
laws, but therefore only for the use of a practical reason. The certainty
of the postulated possibility is not in the least theoretical ... it is a neces-
sary assumption, rather, with reference to the subject as conforming to
the objective practical laws of reason. Thus it is merely a necessary
hypothesis' (emphasis mine, 11, n. 9). These claims in the preface are
later reiterated when Kant says that 'through the practical law ... there
is postulated the possibility of those objects of pure speculative reason
whose objective reality could not be assured by speculative reason'
(emphasis mine, 134).
Now, presumably, some kind of possibility had already been assured
by theoretical reason's inabilitv to rule out God and immortality, so
what is involved in this case is the guarantee - because of practical
needs - of a kind of possibility which exceeds that reached in the first
Critique. The character of this 'objective reality [which] could not be
assured by speculative reason' is clarified in a footnote in the first Critique
76 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
In other words, it is not the case, as Gill suggests, that for Kant the
experience of the moral life 'makes it "possible" but not necessary to
postulate the existence of God' (Gill, p. 57). Rather, I suggest that Kant
argues for the necessity of postulating the possible existence of God.
I agree with Gill in rejecting the interpretation that Kant intends to
justify the necessity of postulating the existence of God, but I think
there is, nevertheless, a crucial difference between arguing for the pos-
sibility of postulating the existence of God and arguing for the necessity
of postulating the possibility of God. 6 Kanfs references to 'practical
belief' in God's existence seem to amount to the necessity of postulat-
ing the possibility of God's existence coupled with the desire for it -
and this is what hope amounts to. That is, 'practical belief' in God's
existence cannot equal 'theoretical belief' in God's existence - 'practical
belief' means hope, which depends on the theoretical affirmation of the
real possibility of God and immortality. The possibility of God and
immortality is all that is affirmed because the practical postulate is the
'theoretical proposition' which is inseparably tied to duty.7 On his own
terms, whatever Kant means by the 'positive cognition' we gain at the
boundary of reason cannot go beyond that.
(c) Religion Within the Limits of Reason Alone (hereafter RWLRA) reaf-
firms the relevance of possibility: 'Indeed, the minimum of knowledge
(it is possible that there may be a God) must suffice, subjectively, for
whatever can be made the duty of every man.,g In addition, however,
the recognition of the radicality of evil in us prompts a corresponding
sensitivity to our possible needs and hence an intensification of the lan-
guage of 'hope'. As we all know, RWLRA is devoted to exploring the
complexity of the problem generated by the fact of evil, its origin and
the locus of responsibility, and the requirement that any moral good
Making Room for Faith 77
includes within itself the second, as a narrower one (not like two circles
external to one another, but like concentric circles)' (11).
All this, I think, suggests that RWLRA legitimates a postulate in addi-
tion to those legitimated in the second Critique. I suggest that Kant makes
'room for faith' by eliminating the obstacles to postulating the possibil-
ity of God, of immortality, and of any assistance we may need, as well
as by showing the need to postulate those possibilities. Without these
postulations we cannot reasonably devote ourselves to the moral enter-
prise, but none of these postulations constitutes a theoretical belief in
more than the real (more-than-Iogical) possibility of any of the three.
In sum, Kant legitimates a faith which is a hope - a hope for the
happiness we would deserve if we did what we ought to do, and addi-
tionally, a hope for any assistance we might need in order to do what
we ought (be virtuous). He allows the postulation of such assistance
because the demands of duty carry in its train an inseparable theoretical
corollary (the affirmation of the possibility of assistance). He locates the
basis and the limits of hope: Reason 'does not dispute the possibility or
the reality of the objects of these ideas', but they cannot be appropriated
'as an extension of her domain'; we can neither 'define these things the-
oretically' nor, he says, do they have a 'practical application' (48).12 Thus,
he allows us to hope for such assistance as we might need, but cannot
theoretically define, as long as it does not affect our practical striving
(except in the sense of preventing despair).
An alternative proposal to Gill's would thus claim that Kant under-
cuts the dichotomy between reason and faith precisely by highlighting
the practical interests of reason which require (are premised on) the
theoretical affirmation of real possibility. Practical needs imply the
necessity of the possibility of assistance, and require a hope, but do not
ever obliterate the distinction between theoretical and practical employ-
ments of reason. We do not need to set reason aside, because reason has
a practical employment which supports a theoretical affirmation of the
real possibility (a necessary possibility) of God, assistance, etc.
Before turning to the rest of Gill's project, I want to make one sugges-
tion concerning any purported parallel between Kant and Kierkegaard
on practical reason. I would argue that it is not enough to show that
both appreciate the practical (moral, existential) needs in our life. They
can both do that without making the same distinction between theoret-
ical and practical employments of reason. That is, it may be that Kant's
insistence on the terminology of the practical employment of reason
shows that something important is at stake for him in refusing to let
practical interests be contrasted with rational interests. Kierkegaard, on
80 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
himself uses indirection. That is, Gill has emphasized the level (A) at
which one can say that Kierkegaard uses indirection by employing
pseudonyms - but there is another level (B) since Climacus himself uses
indirection. Indeed, it is Climacus who revokes the Postscript in the
'Understanding with the Reader' he appends to the Postscript and it is
Climacus who explains the limits of direct communicationY
Here, at the level (B) at which the pseudonym himself uses indirec-
tion (has a style, employs a form) one can distinguish two sub-kinds of
indirection, two ways in which style or form can be in tension or jux-
taposed to content. For shorthand, we could say that one is form vs.
content (BI); another is content vs. content (B2).
Bl. Form vs. content: One could say that Climacus' pedantic, systematic
style in Fragments contrasts with the irrationalist content or message of
the non-Socratic alternative. This, however, ignores the details of the
text: the way in which Climacus also offers there a poetic version of his
story, retelling the systematic tale of the Teacher, Learner and Moment
in terms of Love between Maiden and King, and Lilies of the Field. This
suggests another category of pseudonymic CB) indirection: a tension or
juxtaposition between two styles or between two contents.
B2. Style vs. style; content vs. content: In Fragments, Climacus offers first a
'Thought-Experiment' and then a 'Poetic Venture', and one can even
see the third chapter, 'A Metaphysical Whimsy', as echoing both
dimensions. One could see the form of the text as a creative tension
between two styles; one could say that the tension between the two
styles performs a heuristically useful function by stressing us to the
point of acknowledging another option (Gill's metaphor?). Moreover,
one can see in Fragments a distinctive style in the juxtaposition between
a rationalist content (the Socratic position) and an irrationalist content
(the non-Socratic alternative). Thirdly, one could see a tension between
the form and content internal to the exposition of the non-Socratic
alternative. Any of these could account for Climacus' self-assessment of
the book when in his 'Glance at Danish Literature' in the Postscript
he highlights 'The contrast of form, the teasing resistance of the ima-
ginary construction to the content, the inventive audacity (which even
invents Christianity) ... the indefatigable activity of irony, the parody
of speculative thought in the entire plan, the satire ... ' which mark the
Fragments. 28
Gill's conclusion that 'works by Climacus and de Silentio' are extreme,
obviously overstated irrationalist attacks on an extreme overconfident
86 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
Notes
1. This includes the tension between passion and leap, and the role of imagina-
tion in holding elements in paradoxical tension; see my Transforming Vision:
Imagination and Will in Kierkegaardian Faith (Oxford, 1991).
2. I say this in full recognition of Gill's warning at the end of his paper that pro-
positioni:\l accounts of faith risk confusing it with hope.
3. Sitting in a cafe with a Cigar and pondering his life, Climacus reports: 'Suddenly
this thought crossed my mind: You must do something, but since with your
limited capabilities it will be impossible to make anything easier than it has
Making Room for Faith 87
become, you must ... take it upon yourself to make something more difficult.
This idea pleased me enormously; it also flattered me that for this effort
I would be loved and respected, as much as anyone else, by the entire com-
munity' (pp. 186-7). Johannes Climacus repeats the idea three times: 'I ven-
ture according to my poor ability to take on the responsibility of making it
difficult, as difficult as possible, yet without making it more difficult than it is - I
take the responsibility upon myself. One can certainly do that, in an imaginary
construction' (Concluding UnScientific Postscript, trans. Hong and Hong, Prince-
ton University Press, 1992, p. 381, emphasis mine; also pp. 186-7 and 557).
4. KrV, A 805/B 833, p. 635. The remainder of the paragraph uses material
from A 804-12, pp. 635-9.
5. KrV, Bxxvi, note, emphasis mine; note that Kant treats 'objective reality'
and 'objective validity' as equivalent (in the Preface to the Critique Of Prac-
tical Reason, Kant contrasts what can be thought without contradiction
with what has 'objective reality'; he also puts in opposition the claims that
ideas can gain 'stability and objective reality' with the claim that 'their pos-
sibility is proved').
6. More detail can be found in my 'Kant's Postulate: The Possibility or the
Existence of God?', Kant-Studien, 74 (1983).
7. Kant's description in the second Critique of a 'practical postulate' as a neces-
sary assumption or hypothesis of practical reason (11, n. 9) was elaborated
later in his definition of it as a 'theoretical proposition, which is not as such
demonstrable, but which is an inseparable corollary of an a priori uncondi-
tionally valid practical law' (122).
8. RWLRA, p. 142 note; also see p. 60.
9. The English translation is misleading; the German reads '(olglich miissen wir
es auch konnen, sollte auch das, was wir tun konnen . .. " and so means 'even
if ... ' - as such it does not assert that we need something.
10. Other references to 'hope' are found on pp. 162 and 170, as well as continu-
ing references to 'grace'.
11. Although RWLRA, p. 132, seems to affirm our 'inability', it can be argued
that the pOint he is making concerns the condition of being well-pleasing
before anything could be done to make good an inability.
12. 'Hence,' he concludes, 'we can admit a work of grace as something incom-
prehensible, but we cannot adopt it into our maxims either for theoretical
or for practical use' (49).
13. Note that Kant does not, as Gill claims (p. 57), divide pure and practical -
Kant specifically makes a pOint of noting the lack of parallelism in the titles
of the critiques and contrasts pure theoretical with pure practical, or pure
reason with empirically conditioned reason.
14. Soren Kierkegaard's Journals and Papers, trans. Hong and Hong (Indiana
University Press, 1975), Vol. 3, p. 247 (1845); hereafter JP.
IS. See my Transforming Vision for a detailed account of these positive apprecia-
tions of ethical uses of imagination.
16. Kierkegaard later identified himself with this particular pseudonym in 'Til
det nye Oplag at'lndovelse i Christendom, Faedrelandet, no. 112, Onsdag, 16
May 1855.
17. The Sickness Unto Death, trans. Hong and Hong (Prince ton University Press,
1980), p. 38; the immediately following quotations are from pp. 39-40.
88 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
18. Practice in Christianity, trans. Hong and Hong (Prince ton University Press,
1991), p. 195.
19. JP 3: 246 (1840).
20. Works of Love, trans. Hong and Hong (Princeton University Press, 1995); fur-
ther parenthetical page references in this paragraph are from this volume.
2l. Works of Love, pp. 250, 262.
22. On the other hand, it is worthwhile noting that at times he keeps his own
name on the title page until the day before it goes to the publisher, e.g.
Philosophical Fragments and The Concept of Anxiety.
23. A particularly interesting discussion of the what and the how is found in the
JP 1: 317-18.
24. Even this is not quite true, since Climacus does periodically indicate that
the how and the what are inseparable, that the right how constitutes the
right what, that the relevant how can only fit one thing (Concluding Unscien-
tific Postscript, pp. 610-11, 613-14 note).
25. Here and in what immediately follows the emphases are my own.
26. These claims are found in 'A First and Last Declaration', which is appended to
Climacus' appendix in the Concluding Unscientific Postscript; this 'declaration'
is not paginated as is the rest of the book, and it is signed'S. Kierkegaard'.
27. Concluding UnscientifiC Postscript, pp. 619, 621; the sections in which he dis-
cusses 'possible/actual theses by Lessing', esp. pp. 73-80.
28. Concluding Unscientific Postscript, footnote, p. 275.
29. See the lectures and comments on direct and indirect communication, JP 1:
267-319; especially note pp. 273-89, pp. 303-18.
30. 'First and Last Declaration'.
V oices in Discussion
89
90 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
E: I should have said that he put aside theoretical reason. Kant is telling
us not to go beyond the bounds of practical reason. He is telling us not
to venture out beyond the categories we are acquainted with.
N: No, I disagree; the limits are the limits of what we can know, but not
of what we can think. We are encouraged to launch out beyond what
we can know - that is the dialectic.
0: I do not think that practical belief is merely belief in a real possibil-
ity. That real possibility is groun-ded in a fundamental belief. 'I will that
there be a God' cannot be equated with 'I create God'. It means that
I must appropriate God. We can compare the matter with belief in the
ethical commonwealth. The hope is that it is coming. Belief in God is
the same.
L: I do not think Kant is concluding that we need grace and are going to
get it. The most Kant concludes is that if we need grace, we'll get it. We
do not know enough to say that we will get help, but it is a real possib-
ility. I do not see that Kant needs to go further, and he'd be in trouble if
he did.
0: I do not think it is only a real possibility. The grace is available.
L: It is available, but he does not say we need it. It is available only if we
need it.
0: The reason he says we cannot 'know' this is his idiosyncratic view of
knowledge.
P: Kierkegaard is not trying to establish what we know. The point of the
pseudonymous works is that the teacher must disappear. Where values
are concerned, we must find something for ourselves.
L: But the teacher must not disappear too soon. To write a book and
revoke it is different from not writing a book at all.
P: Are you saying that there are many Kierkegaards?
L: There are as many Kierkegaards as there are characters in his pseud-
onymous works.
Q: My problem is that E seems to minimize the differences between
Kant and Kierkegaard. Think of what faith means for Kierkegaard. Do
we find that in Kant? I sympathise with much of what L says, but I can-
not find Christianity as a historical religion in Kant. Revelation is out
for him. Even the Holy One must be brought to the bar of reason.
'Moral autonomy' does not seem to be what Kierkegaard means by
faith. For him, reason tells us what faith is not.
E: Kant gets caught in a trap he sets for himself. I was simply trying to
get him out of that trap. I wanted to say what you do about Kierke-
gaard, but I wanted to give him a break by reading him through the
pseudonyms.
92 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
95
96 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
from the universal and hence from reason is but a creature forced into a
natural state and doomed to subjectivism, a menace to himself and
others, and an offence to God, or it would decide with Kierkegaard that
while religion requires the moral rational perfection of the individual,
this perfection is not the absolute relationship to the absolute that we
see at work in Abraham, that religion is precisely the task by which the
individual relinquishes the comfort of the universal for 'the climb to
the infinite'.
In this paper, however, I would like to pursue another approach to
the topic of the individual in Kant and Kierkegaard, one more in keeping
with the approach I have taken in my previous papers on these two
thinkers.! Rather than seeing their views of the individual as being in
opposition to each other, I would like to see them as stages in the devel-
opment of a common philosophical tradition, one that makes the indi-
vidual (as opposed to nature, God, the polis, or history, for example) the
central feature of philosophical reflection. One can trace this tradition
to the thought of the seventeenth century; it is a tradition integral to
the rise of modern philosophy and it is a tradition that persists into our
own time. It is at once deeply affected by the sceptical rejection of the
claims of human knowledge, particularly with regard to the claims
of metaphysics, and yet eager to take human decision-making and
responsibility very seriously. Both Kant and Kierkegaard operate within
this tradition and both do much to advance its cause. This is the first
point I wish to make in this paper. The second point calls attention to a
certain ambiguity in this tradition, an ambiguity which Kant and Kier-
kegaard do much to advance. (He gel would have called this ambiguity a
contradiction at the core of the tradition of 'the individual' that works
its way through the development of this tradition, ultimately produ-
cing its failure.) The individual that emerges is both metaphysically
blind and yet necessarily active. This ambiguity is at work in both Kant
and Kierkegaard, in an emphasis on bold choices and actions commit-
ted independently of metaphysical knowledge, as is the case in Kant, or
in an emphasis on the mechanics of choosing, as is the case with Kier-
kegaard. Kierkegaard's position is, I think, an extension of Kant's posi-
tion, and his view of the individual ends less with the 'absurd hero'
than with 'psychological man', the individual confronting himself and
caught up in the dynamics of his own decision-making.
The key to' Kant's philosophical elevation of the individual is his ana-
lysis of morality. Morality, Kant knows, has been a part of philosophy
almost from its origins among the pre-Socratic philosophers, and of
'The Individual' in Kant and Kierkegaard 97
obedience, rooted in the Biblical ideal, the Golden Rule. 12 It will not
make human beings wise, but it will make them good. It will also ensure
conformity to rules of social conduct and to those rules necessary to
maintain political stability. A morality of limit and denial, it would be
ineffective, Spinoza believes, unless conjoined with a system of rewards
and punishments, and this in turn will require the introduction of God,
without whom the rules would go completely unheeded. This morality
does not take that knowledge seriously, but it does take choice seriously,
as it does the social and political need to direct or even compel choice
such that consequences thought to be beneficial will be produced while
other consequences will be avoided.
Kant rejects the philosophical morality of Spinoza's Ethics. He denies
the possibility of metaphysical knowledge, the pOSSibility of the intel-
lectual love of God, and he denies that knowledge is the highest good.
A human being thought to be wise but not good does not command
our admiration, Spinoza observes, while one who is good but not wise
may yet command and receive our admiration. The critique of a meta-
physical morality would seem to point Kant in the direction of the
second of Spinoza's two moralities, the morality of choice elaborated in
the Treatise. And indeed Kant moves in this direction. But he rejects the
idea of moral choice as the product of the expectation of reward or the
fear of punishment, does not accept that morality might be understood
in terms of the consequences produced by those choices. As I have
pointed out, Kant denies the primacy of religious and political author-
ity and insists on the autonomy of the individual. The foundation of
this autonomy is conscience. Its principle is an a priori synthetic prin-
ciple, a law of reason. It is a metaphysical principle, not one that
expands human understanding but one that insists on directing the
will. Kant's resolution is to admit the absence of metaphysical know-
ledge and therefore to deny the possibility of the classical tradition of
morality with its emphasis on knowledge as the goal of human life. But
Kant also rejects the social-political model of morality with its view of
the uneducated masses who, lacking knowledge, must be made to
experience the full weight of a system of fear and rewards in an effort to
ensure their conformity to societal expectations. Kant denies the possib-
ility of Spinoza's metaphysical morality in the Ethics, but he also refuses
to accept Spinoza's morality of social obligation in the Treatise. His solu-
tion is a metaphysical morality rooted in obligation.
This is classical Kant, bold and eclectic. But his individual is now not
embarked on the climb to metaphysical knowledge or to the intellec-
tual love of God. And the individual is now not simply a creature for
'The Individual' in Kant and Kierkegaard 101
take him.17 The rejection of the horizontal religion for the vertical
ascent fails, and Kierkegaard leaves us with a horizontal religion of a
psychological kind - the individual in conflict with himself with regard
to the either/or. Either he is subsumed within the moral universal, con-
fident that in obedience to the universal he serves God, or he believes
that he is, as the very individual he is, raised above the universal to
serve a God he must believe may not exist and who, even if He does
exist, may not address the individual as the individual now believes
that he is addressed.
will provides not for an ascent but only for the opportunity to decide
to ascend. Climbing is renewing the decision to climb. Kierkegaard's
individual tries himself (in the name of God, who may not exist, and
hence he tries himself before himself) and goes nowhere. Even more
than Kant's metaphysically ignorant but metaphysically empowered
individual, Kierkegaard's individual is a strikingly modern figure, a vari-
ation on the theme of psychological man.
When Kant and Kierkegaard are seen not in opposition to each other
but as stages of the same process of development, we are left with the
idea of an individual who is, of course, not the rational individual
working through his life as the task of subsuming his choices and deci-
sions under the moral universal, Le. the Kantian individual. But neither
is he the Kierkegaardian individual - the Knight of Faith who has
understood the limits of reason and passed beyond them as he makes
his ascent to the infinite. The individual's primary task is faith - Le. the
choice to ascend to God. But God is not knowable. Scepticism cannot
be disputed. And so the individual is left with the choice to ascend. This
is less the Kierkegaardian individual, the Knight of Faith in embryonic
form, than psychological man - the individual turned back on himself,
wrestling with himself with ever increasing intensity in a world that is
known to be unknowable and before a God who, if He exists, is known
to be unreachable.
Notes
1. 'Kierkegaard: First Existentialist or Last Kantian?', Religious Studies, Vo!. 18,
Spring 1982, pp. 159-70; and 'Kant and Kierkegaard: the Limits of Reason and
the Cunning of Faith', International Journal (or Philosophy o( Religion, Vol. 19,
1986, pp. 3-22.
2. See Chapter 1 of Kant's Groundwork o( the Metaphysic o( Morals, published as
The Moral Law: Kant's Groundwork o(the Metaphysic o(Morals, trailS. H.]. Paton
(HutchiilSon University Library, 1948), pp. 61-73.
3. Ibid., pp. 84-8.
4. Ibid., Chapter 3, pp. 114-31. And, more importantly, 'The Preface' to Kant's
Critique o(Practical Reason, trailS. Lewis White Beck (Bobbs-Merrill Company,
Inc., 1956), pp. 3-14.
5. Groundwork, pp. 95-6.
6. Kant's position, Hegel writes, 'makes caprice into a law and ethical behaviour
into obedience to such caprice'. G. W. F. Hegel, The Phenomenology o( Spirit,
trailS. A. V. Miller (Clarendon Press, 1977), p. 260.
7. Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan, ed. C. B. MacPherson (Penguin Books, 1968), p. 188.
8. See Spinoza's Ethics, Part IV, Proposition 35, Proof and Scholium, and Proposi-
tion 37, Scholium 2, published as The Ethics and Selected Letters, trailS. Samuel
106 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
107
108 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
mean one's volitions as one means one's words - deeply or virtually not
at all. George Orwell writes: 'When one watches some tired hack on the
platform mechanically repeating the familiar phrases - bestial atrocities,
iron heel, bloodstained tyranny, free peoples of the world, stand shoulder to
shoulder - one often has a curious feeling that one is not watching a live
human being but some kind of dummy: a feeling which suddenly
becomes stronger at moments when the light catches the speaker's
spectacles and turns them into blank discs which seem to have no eyes
behind them.,1 Kierkegaard, who sometimes wondered whether he was
talking to a man or to a walking-stick,2 would recognize this feeling.
And just as there is a spectrum ranging from Orwell's tired hack to, say,
a very great poet who weighed her every word and meant each of them
entirely, so there is an analogous spectrum of increasing depth of com-
mitment to the things one wills, extending from those 'objective think-
ers' whom Kierkegaard suspects might be walking-sticks in disguise,
who will what they will with such thoughtless indifference that they
can scarcely be said to will at all, to an individual who chooses with
infinite passion and inwardness.
In his main moral works, Kant is more concerned with the question
which maxims we can permissibly will than with how we should will
them. This is surely at least a difference in emphasis between the two.
One might think that, for Kierkegaard, it must be more than that. 'The
objective accent falls on WHAT is said, the subjective accent on HOW it
is said,3; and the difference between objectivity and subjectivity can
never be a mere difference in emphasis. I will leave aside for now the
question what conclusion we should draw from the fact that Kant does
not place the importance of willing in earnest front and centre, as Kier-
kegaard does, and whether, in particular, we should conclude that in
so doing he shows himself to be an objective thinker. At the moment
I want to claim only that Kant both recognizes the need to will in earn-
est, and regards it as crucial.
At least part of what Kierkegaard calls 'inwardness', Kant calls 'charac-
ter'. According to Kant, we say that a person has this or that sort of
character when we want to describe the sort of person he is. But when
we say that a person has character, without qualification, we mean that
he 'has tied himself to certain practical principles which he has unalter-
ably prescribed for himself by his own reason,.4 While Kant takes char-
acter to be what 'defines (a person) as an individual and no one else',5
he would agree with Kierkegaard that it is uncommon: a person with
character is 'a rarity that calls for respect and admiration',6 even if the
principles to which he commits himself are the wrong ones. 7
'The Individual' in Kierkegaard and Kant - a Reply 109
Kant writes:
something so important. I will take this point up later. For now, I want
only to claim that Kant recognizes and grants full weight to this aspect
of Kierkegaardian inwardness.
Third, inwardness requires risk: 'the contradiction between the infinite
passion of the individual's inwardness and the objective uncertainty'. 12
Clearly Kant can agree with Kierkegaard in so far as the uncertainty in
question concerns God's existence. If we could prove the existence of
God, Kant writes, we would act in conformity with His will, but we
would do so for the wrong reasons. '(M)ost actions conforming to the
law would be done from fear, only a few from hope, and none at all
from duty, and the moral worth of actions, on which alone in the eyes
of supreme wisdom the worth of the person and even that of the world
depends, would not exist at all. As long as human nature remains as it
is, human conduct would thus be changed into mere mechanism in
which, as in a puppet show, everything would gesticulate well but there
would be no life in the figures. 1l3 We can only achieve a practical (Kierke-
gaard would say: a subjective) certainty, which cannot be used to justify
our moral commitment since that commitment is its basis. And it is only
because this is true that we can live as free individuals whose conduct
has worth in the eyes of God. Here, I think, Kant and Kierkegaard are in
complete agreement.
However, Kierkegaard requires not only that we stake ourselves, with-
out relying on proofs, when we affirm our belief in God, but that we do
so in our particular choices about what to do. Ethics, for Johannes de
Silentio at least, involves resignation of one's particularity in favour of
the universal, and though this resignation is 'spun with tears, bleached
with tears ... sewn in tears', it 'gives protection better than iron or
steel'.I4 And one of the reasons it protects us so well, he thinks, is that
when we remain within the ethical, we can be sure of having done the
right thing, and sure that this will be recognizable by others. If we place
ourselves under the protection of the universal, we may have to give
up our child, our beloved, even our life; but we will not have to face
the dangers that faith presents us with, the dangers both of error and
of incomprehensibility. But in avoiding those dangers we relinquish
inwardness, and thereby lose the most important thing of all.
I will not consider here the question whether Johannes de Silentio's
conception of ethics as involving only the negative movements of resig-
nation reflects Kierkegaard's own views. IS Nor will I ask whether moral
risk is in fact desirable, since it seems to me that, desirable or not, it is in
any case a real phenomenon which any adequate moral theory should
be able to account for. It might seem that Kant's moral theory cannot
112 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
account for it. This would not follow simply from the fact that Kant
thinks that we can justify claims about what we should do. Abraham's
choice would not become risk-free if he could justify the claim that we
should always do God's will, a claim that Abraham's friends and family
would presumably accept. The danger involved in his choice reflects the
impossibility not of justifying that claim, but of determining what, in a
given instance, God's will is. Likewise, the fact that we can, according to
Kant, justify general moral claims, would not show that Kant's moral
theory is risk-free if it were not always possible to know, in a given
instance, what those claims require that we do. Kant sometimes seems
to think that it is possible to know this: that there is always a way of
responding to any situation which we can know to be beyond reproach.
This is, I think, false. But it is false for reasons that Kant can account for.
On Kant's view, it is possible to determine whether any given maxim
is permissible or not. But this does not ensure that we can be certain of
acting rightly in any given situation. For Kant denies that we can ever
know what our maxims actually are. 16 This is not a problem when it is
obvious what morality requires: in such cases you act rightly, try to do
so for the right reasons, and hope for the best. However, there are cases
in which it is not obvious what we ought to do, because while it is clear
that we ought to do whatever satisfies some description - say, doing
what is best for one's child - it is not clear which of the choices avail-
able that is. Sometimes this uncertainty is due to unavoidable ignorance
of some facti if in such cases we choose the wrong course, that cannot
be held against us. But sometimes we have all the facts we need, and the
problem is interpreting them. When you throw the book at a student, is
it heartlessness or tough love? When you send soldiers under your
command to risk their lives in a dangerous tactical manoeuvre, are you
being brave enough to take the brilliant gamble that wins the war, or
throwing other people's lives away to prove to yourself what a daring
commander you are? When you break your engagement, are you spar- .
ing the woman you love a lifetime of misery or just losing your nerve?
In such cases, if we have the facts we need to decide what to do, we
are accountable if we choose wrongly. For if we choose wrongly this is
due not to ignorance, but to the fact that self-love or cowardice have
corrupted our judgement.
A Kantian would say that in such situations we can be assured of act-
ing rightly if our maxims pass the Categorical Imperative test, and that
that depends not on whether we have described our choices accurately,
but on whether what we will in the situation as we understand it is
permissible. However, since we cannot know what our maxims are, the
'The Individual' in Kierkegaard and Kant - a Reply 113
fact that Kant holds that our conduct should be judged not by its con-
sequences but by our maxims gives us no security in the kinds of situ-
ations I described above. Moreover, others cannot know our maxims any
more than we can; for this reason, if the moral status of our conduct
depends on our maxims, we cannot prove to other people that we acted
rightly. This is true for the same reasons that prevent Abraham from
justifying his conduct to others. There is a description which, if it could
be shown to apply to Abraham's action, would justify it: namely, doing
the will of God. Likewise, there are descriptions of what Kierkegaard did
to Regine Olsen according to which his conduct was justified. If he
could have shown those around him that, for instance, in breaking
off his engagement he was in fact sparing Regine a lifetime of sorrow,
and that that was why he had done it, he would have justified his con-
duct to them. The problem in both cases is that the agent can neither
know himself nor prove to others either that that is what he is doing or
that that is why he is doing it. For this reason, if there are situations in
which we cannot know either what we should choose to do or that we
are choosing on morally acceptable grounds, then we cannot look to
ethics for safety, nor can we assume that if we act rightly, we will be
understood.
Still, one might think, there is one way in which Kant's ethics is safer
than Kierkegaard's. For the Categorical Imperative will clearly not
require certain things of us: lying, theft, killing our children. Kierke-
gaard's God, by contrast, is not a principle but a person, who might in
principle command any of these things of usY But even this distinc-
tion between the two is less sharp than it seems at first. For in both
cases there is one thing that will not be asked of us. Kant holds that we
will not be asked to violate the moral law. Likewise, it seems hard to
imagine that Kierkegaard would allow that God might ever command
us to renounce inwardness itself. And surely the reason for this is the
same in both cases: both Kant and Kierkegaard assume that we cannot
or will not be required to give up what makes us persons, and the persons
we are; that the God who made us persons will not ask us voluntarily to
assume the status of a thing.
Kant and Kierkegaard disagree, of course, about what makes us per-
sons, and the persons we are. For Kant, it is our practical reason, while
for Kierkegaard it is inwardness, which in turn depends on our ability to
relate ourselves to the absurd. Here, surely, is a crucial disagreement.
But again, it is important not to exaggerate it. There are ways in which
Kant thinks that our practical reason is incomprehensible. We cannot
understand how we have the ability to legislate moral law: how our
114 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
thereby prevents the view that this requirement is crucial from collaps-
ing into the view that caring enough about something makes it right.
I said earlier that I would return to the question why Kant remained
largely silent about the importance of developing what he calls charac-
ter. Part of the answer, as I noted earlier, is that it is hard to see how the
importance of character might be communicated directly to someone
who did not already accept it. However, this cannot be the whole
answer, since if 1 am right to say that Kant appreciated the importance
of character, then it is hard to see how he could simply have remained
silent about it.
As I noted earlier, strategies of indirection are alien to Kant. But there
is another way to give one's writings an educative function, one that
involves, not strategy, but a kind of instinctive courtesy and an unwill-
ingness to go along with pretence, and that consists in assuming that
one's readers do mean what they will and in showing them what this
entails. I have argued that the Categorical Imperative marks out what
one can will wholeheartedly and without double-mindedness. More-
over, one cannot fully understand the Categorical Imperative without
coming to appreciate the dignity of persons, which consists in the fact
that they can have what Kant calls a character, that they can will in
earnest, and so become the governors of their lives, or, as Kierkegaard
would say, in their capacity for inwardness. One might therefore sup-
pose that the task of understanding why we should obey the Categor-
ical Imperative, and of disciplining ourselves to live by it, might itself
help to clarify both what inwardness requires and why we should try to
develop it. Kant's own account of moral education suggests that he held
this view. But if this is right, then Kant's moral writings might them-
selves provide an education in the importance of developing character
and of willing in earnest. If Kant's readers already recognize the import-
ance of this task, then they will learn from his writing what they should
will if they wish to perform it. But if they do not, his writing might in
addition reveal to them a conception of what it means to be an indi-
vidual, and of why it matters to be one, that they had not previously
imagined; and it might awaken in them a desire to live up to that ideal:
to be not just 'something like a subject so called', but 'a subject in
truth,.24
120 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
Notes
1. 'Politics and the English Language', pp. 135-6.
2. Concluding Unscientific Postscript, p. 175.
3. Concluding Unscientific Postscript, p. 181.
4. Anthropology, Ak 292.
5. Ibid., Ak 285.
6. Ibid., Ak 29l.
7. Ibid., Ak 292.
8. Ibid., Ak 294-5.
9. Ibid., Ak 285.
10. Ibid., Ak 292.
11. Kant, Metaphysics of Morals, Ak 400-1.
12. Concluding Unscientific Postscript, p. 182.
13. Critique of Practical Reason, Ak 147.
14. Fear and Trembling, p. 45.
15. It is worth noting that Johannes de Silentio's views on this point are in
complete opposition to the view of the ethical expressed in, say, Either/Or,
in which it is precisely the willingness to choose oneself in all one's parti-
cularity that marks the ethical life.
16. Grounding, Ak 407.
17. As C. S. Lewis writes of Asian: He is not a tame lion.
18. Concluding Unscientific Postscript, p. 188.
19. Kierkegaardians will presumably say that these objections are unfair to Kier-
kegaard. I think that this is true. But this is not because they are not good
objections to the view that the degree of inwardness or passion that it is
possible to have in adopting a particular belief depends on the paradoxical-
ity or riskiness of that belief, but because Kierkegaard himself does not con-
sistently maintain this view, and thus good objections to it are objections
only to a one-sided caricature of his position.
20. It is worth noting that the view that inwardness requires paradox is most
emphatically stated in those pseudonymous works that purport to describe
Christianity from the outside, while the idea that it requires a coherent will
is more clearly stated in those works published under Kierkegaard's own
name. The first set of writings aim to force a choice on us and to heighten
the possibility of offence; it is not surprising that they highlight the fact
that Christianity is in certain respects paradoxical, and that Christians
should embrace this feature rather than simply tolerating it or explaining it
away. On my reading, however, it is the second set that tell us what Kierke-
gaard thinks is involved in living as a Christian, as opposed to becoming
one.
21. See, for instance, Purity ofHeart is to Will One Thing, p. 57.
22. Works of Love, p. 253.
23. Purity of Heart is to Will One Thing, pp. 205-6.
24. Concluding Unscientific Postscript, p. 117.
'The Individual' in Kierkegaard and Kant - a Reply 121
References
Kant, Immanuel, Anthropology From a Pragmatic Point of View, trans. Victor Lyle
(Dowdell: Southern Illinois University Press, 1978).
Kant, Immanuel, Critique of Practical Reason, in Kant, Practical Philosophy, trans.
Mary Gregor (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996).
Kant, Immanuel, Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals, in Kant, Practical Philo-
sophy, trans. Mary Gregor (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996).
Kant, Immanuel, Metaphysics of Morals, in Kant, Practical Philosophy, trans. Mary
Gregor (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996).
Kierkegaard, Smen, Concluding Unscientific Postscript, trailS. David Swenson and
WaIter Lowrie (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1941).
Kierkegaard, S0ren, Fear and Trembling, trans. Howard Hong and Edna Hong
(Princeton: Prince ton University Press, 1983).
Kierkegaard, Smen, Purity of Heart is to Will One Thing, trailS. Douglas Steere
(New York: Harper and Row, 1956).
Kierkegaard, Smen, Works of Love, trailS. Howard and Edna Hong (New York:
Harper and Row, 1962).
George OrweIl, 'Politics and the English Language', in Orwell, Collected Essays,
vo!. 4, ed. Sonia Orwell and ran Angus (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich,
1968).
Voices in Discussion
122
Voices in Discussion 123
s: And when we look at the other works, we see very important similar-
ities between Kant and Kierkegaard. Purity of Heart, for example, is full
of Kantian echoes. Kierkegaard tells us that to will the good is to will
one thing. Is not this the distinction between the categorical and hypo-
thetical imperative? The will, as Kant would say, must be free of self-
deception. When Kierkegaard makes love central in Works of Love, is not
love of the neighbour, of other members of the ethical commonwealth,
the most noble subject for universalizability for Kant?
Q: I think there is a difference. The dignity of all people for Kant con-
sists in their rationality, but God is involved in Kierkegaard's notion of
the neighbour.
C: Another way of making the same point is to say that for Kant the
moral law is characterized by its universalizability. On some readings, at
least, it seems to be a formal requirement. Whereas in Kierkegaard, it is
not good because it is universalizable, but universalizable because it is a
command to love.
P: And that is why I do not see how Kant's rational morality can be
equated with Kierkegaard's conception of faith.
G: But I have pointed out how risk is involved in Kant's moral theory.
P: But those risks are still subsumed under the conception of a general
law.
G: You stake a lot on your moral judgement.
P: Maybe, but it has nothing like the particularity of faith in Kierke-
gaard. Kant has a general principle, whereas what Kierkegaard emphas-
izes is the struggle to do God's will. As you said yourself, de Silentio is
very different from Judge William, and the latter has a kind of Kantian
ethic.
M: There is one topic which has not been mentioned in the present
discussion. There is a difference between Kant's treatment of the indi-
vidual and Kierkegaard's. What comes between them is Romanticism. It
might be said that Schleiermacher was the first theologian to attempt to
engage philosophical ethics with it.
One feature of Romanticism is its emphasis, not on the individual,
but on individuality. Kant sees the individual as a repeatable instance,
but he does not see concrete individuality. Kierkegaard takes over this
romantic notion, but engages with it in his own way.
F: That particularity, which is the opposite of a rational faith, is seen in
Kierkegaard's discussion of Abraham. Like Paul, Abraham hopes against
hope, and his faith is counted for righteousness. Abraham believed that
he would get Isaac back even though God has commanded him to sacri-
fice him. This is the man who had already believed that Sarah would
Voices in Discussion 125
give him a son in old age - the same son that he is now asked to sacri-
fice. Abraham lives in God's promises.
T: Doesn't what F has just said take the sting out of the story of Abra-
ham? Kierkegaard warns us not to take the shudder out of it, or, at least,
his pseudonym does. But if he is convinced that God will give Isaac
back to him, either in this life or the next, doesn't that take the sting
out of God's command? The real sting would have been in his fulfil-
ment of the command.
N: I have considerable sympathy with that point. I'm uneasy with the
notion that he gets Isaac back. A more Kierkegaardian reading would be of
someone authenticating his relationship with God. As it is, 'believing that
he will get Isaac back' sounds like gathering evidence for obedience to God.
P: But he is asked to sacrifice Isaac.
E: On some readings that is not what God wants Abraham to do. The
whole story is taken as showing the need to move beyond child sacrifice.
A: I think Abraham's conviction that he would get Abraham back is
extremely important. De Silentio says that to live for the eternal is to
give up everything. Infinite reSignation is not enough. When Abraham
believes that he will get Isaac back he is showing the strength of his
faith. He is making a break with probabilistic ways of thinking. Faith
cannot be equated with probabilistic calculation. Crazy promises are
made to Abraham: that Sarah will give him a son, that Isaac will be given
back to him. But because God makes the promises, he believes them.
P: I think the ways we are discussing child sacrifice are extremely
modern, and I doubt whether we are capturing the Jewish conception
of what that sacrifice was.
c: Perhaps we are being rationalistic in thinking that we can grasp it
nowi that we can make that notion of sacrifice live.
But whatever of that, it is important to recognize, as A says, that one
may be asked to give up everything by God, but I wouldn't claim that
this is realized very often. G claims, however, that Kant and Kierkegaard
share a common conception of inwardness, and that this is shown in
their view that this is the one thing one cannot be asked to sacrifice.
Kant would say that moral autonomy can never be sacrificed, and Kier-
kegaard would say that God can never ask us to sacrifice our inward-
ness. And G agrees with this, I think. But, now, doesn't the Passion
come to a sacrifice of this kind if inwardness? The poet R. S. Thomas has
the following lines:
Some say that the last words from the Cross were, 'My God, my God,
why hast thou forsaken me?' Jesus dies the death of a common crim-
inal, misunderstood by everyone.
G: I take that point, but by loss of inwardness I meant the destruction
of the self, such that one's actions do not come from oneself at all, so
that one is reduced to a vegetative or purely animal state. Whereas Jesus
goes willingly to the Cross.
C: I was referring to what happens on the Cross. There have been cases
where people have prayed to follow him there. Simone Weil said that
every time she thought of the Crucifixion she committed the sin of envy.
She prayed, rightly or wrongly, to embrace senility for Christ. She
emphasized that on no account should such a fate be actively sought
after, but should it come as a result of loving God, so that one's self-
destruction is a revelatory vehicle, it would be a privilege.
Now, Simone Weil's prayer is not one that will pass my lips, but I do
not think it is something you can find in Kant.
D: Maybe there is a teleological suspension of the ethical every time
God forgives us. Grace is the possibility of seeing us in other than a
merely ethical way.
G: I don't deny these differences. I said that there are huge differences
between Kant and Kierkegaard in what they say about Christ. But this
should not blind us to the common ground in what they say about the
individual.
C: But the remark that D just made about God's suspension of the
ethical with respect to us should show the difficulty, in Christianity, of
separating Christ from notions of the individual in the way you suggest.
'Not I, but Christ who dwelleth in me' - there is an internal relation
here between the identity of the individual, how he thinks of himself,
and Christ. This is brought out in Kierkegaard's discussion of the dif-
Voices in Discussion 127
case you do not. That is what B was urging in his opening dispute with
A at the beginning of the conference. In the one case we have a love
that is given in grace, whereas in the other, love of a fellow being seems
to come from universal moral criteria.
G: I do not see how a love ethic can escape universalizability.
V: That is why you think Kierkegaard has more empathy for Judge Wil-
liam than for de Silentio. I think the reverse is true. I find myself prefer-
ring the seducer to the judge. But Kierkegaard's sympathies are surely
with de Silentio who embraces the absurd.
G: I'll make only one point about Judge William and de Silentio. Does
either include a practice related more to the particular than to mere
possibility? It is Judge William who gets on with it, and he is right.
V: Those who stress individuality are relating the constitution of the
self to the will. The only freedom is in the unilateral moment. That is
why the analogy is with God's actions.
G: But I emphasized that there is a difference between saying that if
I will with infinite passion the action is right, and saying that, as a matter
of fact, it is only willing of that kind that leads to right actions. I have
argued that there is good reason for hoping that Kierkegaard means the
latter not the former.
Part IV
Religion and Morality
7
Kant and Kierkegaard on the Need
for a Historical Faith: an Imaginary
Dialogue
Ronald M. Green
Recognizing that they have an opportunity to pursue a topic dear to them, the
two thinkers quickly turn to ethics and its relationship to religion.
131
132 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
who made light of your work, and I took pains to insert brief but very
positive things about your philosophy and your character in my writ-
ings. 2 But I admit I never credited you properly.
Rant: I understand. Frankly, I'm not sure what I would have done in
your place. As you know, despite my reputation for moral rigour, I made
my own compromises with strict veracity. One of these was my pledge
to King Frederick to obey his edict not to publish the Religion within the
Limits of Reason Alone. Without saying so, I interpreted this as a pledge
to Frederick just so long as he remained alive. Many have since remarked
that I was a bit ]esuitical in my reasoning.
Rierkegaard: Since you raise the subject of the Religion, let me say here
how much this book influenced me. During my student years it was a
ray of light in the darkness. Here was the undisputed moral rationalist,
the father of the modern concept of moral autonomy, affirming the
'radical evil' in human beings and our need for divine grace to achieve
moral fulfilment!
Rant: It's interesting that you should say that. I confess I was initially
unhappy with my conclusions in the Religion. I thought I had said all
there is to say about rational religious beliefs when I wrote the Critique
of Practical Reason. A moral governor of the universe, the possible con-
tinuance of our life beyond death to accomplish our perfection in moral
virtue - I honestly believed that these were the only religious concepts
we needed to complete the moral life.
Rierkegaard: What was it that changed your mind? You know that
many have said that the Religion was nothing more than your effort to
pacify the orthodox, including your manservant Lampe.
Rant: That's amusing, and unfair to Lampe. He was no fool and disliked
priest craft as much as I did. In fact, the Religion was really a surprising
consequence of an idea already present in the second Critique. It was an
idea I initially resisted, because I feared its practical implications. I yielded
to it only when I became convinced of its truth and power. 3
Rierkegaard: What was that idea?
Rant: That in relation to morality we are radically free. In the second
Critique I began to explore a basic problem in rational moral justifica-
tion. We know we are bound by the moral law whose voice is command-
ing. We also know we are 'creatures of needs' who are compelled to seek
the satisfaction of our desires, the sum of which constitutes our happi-
ness. 4 Indeed, one purpose of morality is to create the rule of law that
permits all persons the ordered pursuit of their happiness. But the ques-
tion is, how are we to reason when the dictates of the moral law run
counter to our valid rational concern with our well-being?
The Need for a Historical Faith 133
Kierkegaard: One would think that you would reply that we must obey
the dictates of the moral law which by its nature requires the subordina-
tion of individual ends to the common good.
Kant: That's certainly right. But the question is, how do we rationally
justify the priority of moral reason? We can't appeal to the individual's
happiness in this context, since this is just what he or she is being asked
to subordinate. Nor can we appeal to the satisfaction that comes with
virtue (what I termed 'self-contentment' in the second Critique). The
person who chooses to act virtuously certainly experiences this, but this
is because they have already chosen to give prime importance to their
moral self-estimate. The question is, why should they do this? Finally,
we cannot argue that objective, self-disregarding reason (what I call 'pure
practical reason') dictates this priority because it is just this 'pure reason
whose supreme authority is being questioned. Indeed, this may be the
only instance in all of rational justification where the authority of pure
reason can be impugned. In other words, we find here a situation in
which all rational justification runs in circles.
Kierkegaard: So you are saying that we cannot be compelled by reason
to accept the priority of the moral law?
Kant: Exactly. This doesn't mean we can avoid the command of moral
reason. Certainly we can never unequivocally justify anyone's unfettered
pursuit of personal happiness. Such a policy is insanity and would soon
defeat itself. But the priority of moral reason nevertheless defies
strict rational justification. It was to eliminate this problem, I argued in
the second Critique, that our practical reason leads us to entertain certain
religious beliefs. To the extent that we believe the world may be ruled
by an all-powerful and just moral governor who unerringly rewards our
virtue (and punishes our vice), we have a reasoned basis for always giv-
ing priority to our morally commanding reason.
Kierkegaard: You are not saying that morality requires us to hold these
beliefs?
Kant: No, not at all. That would be to find rational necessity where, as
I have said, none exists. These beliefs are a way of holding together all
the conflicting dictates of our practical reason. If we wish to make our
reason harmonious with itself in its theoretical and various practical
employments,S we can act morally and subscribe to the religious beliefs
that assist us in doing this. But, as I put it, such a position is a choice, 'a
voluntary decision of our judgment ... itself not commanded' by reason. 6
Hence our reason permits us to adopt morality and its attendant reli-
gious beliefs, but it also permits us, if we are willing to live with conflict
at the core of our reason, to abandon morality and these same beliefs.
134 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
Kant: No. Absolutely not. This is a matter of free choice, a choice that is
even less required by reason than the choice of morality. But it is a ration-
ally possible choice. And what is possible may become actual. It is this
possibility that weakens our confidence in any judgement of moral worth.
Kierkegaard: Does the problem stem from the fact that we possess
many personal desires?
Kant: Yes and no. We are creatures of needs, pulled by inclinations that
occasionally war with our moral reason. Without such inclinations,
there would be no incentive to disobey morality. We would then have a
holy will like God himself. But these inclinations do not themselves
explain our wrongdoing. We always know ourselves to be free to resist
them and they can sometimes even lead us to virtue. 8 Nor does the
problem arise just because we face stress, hardship or want. We inex-
plicably choose to invert the priority due morality in good times as in
bad. This is why Scripture presents the fall of man as occurring once,
inexplicably and without necessity, but in a way that foreshadows the
recurrent fall of all who follow. For if even one of us succumbs to this
misuse of freedom, who can confidently assert that he will not also do so?
Kierkegaard: This, of course, is the philosophical reinterpretation of
the doctrine of original sin which you present in the Religion.
Kant: Yes. It is the first of several such philosophical reinterpretations
of orthodox teachings that I endeavour there. But I want to stress that
I'm not looking to the historical fact of Adam's sin. The explanation of
sin as an inheritance from our first parents is the most inept one I can
imagine. 9 No person can be imputable for the wrongful deeds of
another. Adam is each one of us. Experience teaches that at some point
we each 'fall' freely into the choice of immoral conduct, and even one
such fall calls fatally into question the constancy and worth of our
moral disposition, convicting us in our own eyes of sin.
Kierkegaard: This is an ingenious argument. I've pushed you because
I wanted to hear your own synopsis of in sights that have had a great
impact on my thinking. As you may know, I drew heavily on your argu-
ments to ground my repeated assertion that philosophical ethics leads
to its own undoing. For example, in The Concept of Anxiety I said, 'Ethics
points to ideality as a task and assumes that every man possesses the
requisite conditions. Thus ethics develops a contradiction, inasmuch as
it makes clear both the difficulty and the impossibility.do Or, again, 'An
ethics that ignores sin is a completely futile discipline, but if it affirms sin,
then it has eo ipso exceeded itself. tl1 In all this, it was your development
of the ideality of ethics, the rigour of the moral demand, and the inevit-
able but imputable fact of moral failure that informed my thinking.
136 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
Kierkegaard: Well, then, it seems that our time is short. This difference
between us is so important that I would like to focus on it immediately.
Let me say that I simply do not understand your position. It seems to
me in clear contradiction to almost everything you say.
Kant: What do you mean?
Kierkegaard: As I understand your argument in the Religion, you frankly
acknowledge that we must accept the conclusion that we are 'infinitely
guilty' for our defection from the moral law. 12
Kant: Yes.
Kierkegaard: And that as a consequence, we merit infinite punish-
ment?13
Kant: That's right.
Kierkegaard: You further concede that there is a substantial place for
divine grace in the process of our moral redemption. That when we reach
the depths of our moral self-esteem, we are driven to the possibility of
grace as the sole way of escaping moral despair and rationally resuming
our moral striving?
Kant: I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the phrase 'sole way'. The sole
way we can regain our lost moral course is to re dedicate ourselves to
upright willing. We cannot look to anyone else to do our moral work
for us. Let me add here that it is perfect nonsense to believe that our
moral debt can be discharged by another person, even if he be declared
to be the Son of God. Moral evil is no transmissible liability that can be
made over to another like some commercial debt. 14
Kierkegaard: I understand your insistence on this pOint, and I might
say that I am not a proponent of the scholastic-dogmatic view of atone-
ment. We must ourselves suffer and atone. But there are other ways that
The Need for a Historical Faith 137
God's grace can work in us through Christ besides this kind of substitu-
tionary atonement. The problem is that there seems to be no real place
for divine activity in your scheme. Where does grace fit if we can
achieve moral conversion on our own? I'm sure you've become familiar
with modern writers who perceive a deep incoherence in your views at
this point. Gordon Michalson, for example, draws on the views of Alis-
dair MacIntyre to argue that you are merely caught between two dis-
crete traditions of thought: your orthodox past and an Enlightenment
perspectiveY Nicholas Wolterstorff, John Hare and others maintain
that, on the one hand, you recognize the depths of our moral incapa-
city to achieve enduring rectitude and our need to rely on a power bey-
ond ourselves, but that, on the other hand, you refuse to relinquish a
Stoic insistence on moral responsibility and imputability.16 Hence the
contradictions in your arguments and your reluctance to look to saving
grace to accept our sins and redeem our will.
Kant: But I do look to saving grace. Hare, Michalson and these other
modern writers totally miss my point here. I fully admit a role for God's
involvement in our moral life through divine grace. First, I appeal to
God's timeless intuition to ground our hope that our individual acts of
renewed moral willing are in fact part of a course of unvarying rectit-
ude. Second, I look to God for the confidence that our new, upright
disposition will remain constant, and I regard this very disposition,
which I call our Comforter or Paraclete, as a sign of God's support.17
Third, though I may not have made this point very clearly, I argue that
we may also look to God to accept the penitent suffering we undergo
during our moral conversion as adequate to repay the infinite wrong we
have done. This is the proper place for a concept of vicarious suffering,
which arises out of our own moral concepts and reflects the suffering
the new, morally reformed person undergoes in leaving behind the old,
morally corrupted self. IS
Kierkegaard: Let me say that I find your rationalist interpretation here
of vicarious suffering very interesting.
Kant: Thank you, I regard it as one of my more penetrating deductions
of a concept. But let me make clear how important the reliance on God
is even in this rationalized conception. We must hope that our suffering
will satisfy our moral debt. We cannot make this judgement ourselves
without appearing to escape a merited punishment. In contrast, a moral
governor of the universe who truly knows our frailty and our place in
the larger moral order can judge us less harshly than we must judge our-
selvesY Hence, grace (or what classical theologians might call 'God's
righteousness') permeates my account and is essential to it.
138 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
Kierkegaard: And yet you still will not relinquish the insistence on
individual moral reform and rededication as a first step in this process?
Doesn't that return us to the critics who claim you place the emphasis
on autonomous human willing rather than God's prior initiative on our
behalf?
Kant: Absolutely not. Don't tell me, Kierkegaard, that you, too, fail to
see my point here?
Kierkegaard: No, in fact, I think I fully understand. My disagreement
with you lies elsewhere and has to do with the role of the historical
saviour. But I'm trying to become very clear about precisely what you
are saying. Let me sharpen the question: How do you reply to the claim
that your whole account focusing on human moral willing and rededi-
cation (supplemented by grace) seems opposed to a traditional con-
ception of grace, according to which we are first accepted and revived
from moral death and only then empowered to accomplish moral
rededication?
Kant: I see no conflict between these two accounts. They are one and
the same. Whether it is grace that reanimates the will or willing that
exhibits grace, is all the same. In both cases the emphasis must be on
our willing. This is the lens through which we mortals perceive divine
effects. More than this we cannot know and cannot say. As I observe
over and over again in my writings, we have no knowledge of noumenal
things. We cannot understand how our freedom is compatible with the
realm of causality to which we belong. 20 We cannot say where or how
the divine intervenes in spatio-temporal reality, though we can certainly
hope and believe that it does. We may even have to entertain a belief in
grace if we are rationally to resume what has previously been so ill-fated
a task. But we cannot achieve knowledge about how grace works (that
lies beyond our cognitive capacities). This and other related subjects
belong to the mysteries of faith. 21 We are best advised not to spend time
worrying about such matters. All this becomes idle speculation if it does
not manifest itself in upright willing.
Kierkegaard: Then you are saying that it is rationally permissible to
regard the divine as immanent in moral reasoning. 22 You further seem
to hold that our sense of unbending obligation means (on the principle
of ought implies can) that we possess the ability to renew our willing;23
and that this sense of obligation, along with the very reanimation of
our moral efforts it induces, may be taken as evidence of God's graciOUS
intervention on our behalf.
Kant: Exactly. Our willing and grace are one and the same, depending
on how they are conceived. No priority can be placed on them in time
The Need for a Historical Faith .139
or logic. I might add that anyone familiar with my thinking would see
this as a basic feature of my philosophy. For example, as early as the
Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals I try to show that our sense of
freedom (given to us through the imperative of the moral law) is evid-
ence of our 'citizenship' in an intelligible realm.24 I never deny nou-
mena nor their presence in spatiotemporal realities: but I argue that our
only insight into them is through the lens of our 'natural' moral experi-
ence. The same is true of grace.
Kierkegaard: Then in a sense you are a 'pure mystic' of reason, like one
of those people you have a young friend describe in an appendix to The
Conflict of the Faculties. 25
Kant: You are indeed a careful reader of my work, Kierkegaard!
Kierkegaard: Perhaps too careful. For now I must tell you that, though
I well understand your arguments in the Religion concerning grace,
I must disagree with your conclusions about revealed faith and the his-
torical saviour. In fact, you might say that much of my work is a devel-
opment of this disagreement.
Kant: I am fascinated to hear you say that. Please explain.
Kierkegaard: Gladly. But before getting to specifics, let me see whether
you agree that your argument in the Religion and The Conflict of the
Faculties has two prongs. One maintains that the concept of a historical
saviour contains ideas that are morally repugnant. The other maintains
that such a historically based faith is not really needed.
Kant: I would like to see how you flesh out this broad categorization of
my argument, but it seems correct.
Kierkegaard: Then let's take the first prong: that the concept of a his-
torical saviour is morally unacceptable. In the Religion you develop your
understanding of the Son of God as an archetype in our reason of the
ideal of a humanity well-pleasing to God, but not as a historical
person. 26 Indeed, you deny that a living individual, however righteous,
can ever be understood as anything more than a naturally begotten
human beingY This, I take it, is another implication of your denial of
our knowledge of noumenal reality.28
Kant: Quite right.
Kierkegaard: But then you go on to say that if we were to elevate even
a holy and righteous person to the status of a God-man, this would
actually hinder our ability to adopt that person as a model for imitation
because it would place him beyond all our normal human frailties and
burdens.29
Kant: Exactly. The effort to elevate a holy man in this way really defeats
itself by rendering him utterly inapplicable to us. How can we learn to
140 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
pass judgement on ourselves with the greatest severity.32 You even con-
cede that but for our inability to see beyond the limits of this life, we
would reasonably go from mere comfortlessness about our eternal state
to 'wild despair,.33
Kant: That is all true. I also say, as you acknowledge, that we find the
confidence we need to carry on in our reformed moral disposition, a
disposition which for us is grace enough.
Kierkegaard: But what allows us to regard this as anything more than
self-deception? Recall your own remark that 'man is never more easily
deceived than in what promotes his good opinion of himself'.34 Isn't
this reliance on our disposition an evasion of the depths of the problem?
Kant: I acknowledge that our sense of requirement and empowerment
may occasionally be self-deluding. But what is the alternative? To
acknowledge ourselves as fatally mired in sin? To give up and abandon
reform? What is the profit in that? What is wrong with taking our in-
dwelling sense of obligation as a sign of grace and proceeding from that?
Kierkegaard: Two things. First, it is an invitation to those who feel any
moral urgings at all to ignore the significance of their defections from
the moral requirement. Second, it provides licence to repeat the errors
of the past and even to seek new occasions for self-assertion under the
guise of moral renewal.
Kant: Granted that is a risk. But, again, what is the alternative? Total,
wild despair? Self-indulgent wallowing in our own moral incapacity
and wickedness? Let me take a leaf from your book, The Sickness unto
Death, and ask whether what you are counselling doesn't amount to
'despair of the forgiveness of sins,?35
Kierkegaard: I appreciate your attention to my work. But I think you
miss my point. My aim in The Sickness unto Death was to drive us to
God's forgiveness in Jesus Christ. It is to avoid this, that the prideful,
demonic personality despairs over forgiveness and wallows in condem-
nation. The willingness to accept forgiveness in and through God's
atonement for us in Christ is the alternative both to despair and to shal-
low, autonomous moral self-renewal. Furthermore, it is an alternative
that doesn't enervate but energizes the moral life.
Kant: How so?
Kierkegaard: First it forces us to strip away all our self-deception and
naive confidences and greatly intensifies our sense of the requirement.
As I showed in the Philosophical Fragments, there is all the difference
between a teacher who merely reminds us of what we already know and
one who shows us how deeply we are in error. 36 Second, the fact that
God has actually entered time, suffered and died on our behalf provides
The Need for a Historical Faith 143
us with a real basis for the confidence that we can be and have been
forgiven. In saying this I am again drawing on your writings.
Kant: How so?
Kierkegaard: First, I employ your point in the first Critique that there is
a significant difference between logical possibility and real possibility.37
Many things are logically possible. They belong to what I call the sphere
of 'ideality' or 'concept existence,.38 But only some things are actually
given to us in experience, as you say, and hence really are possible. A
God-man and our enduring moral redemption are both logically pos-
sible. Your work shows that. Neither can be refuted, unless we succumb
to a dogmatic empiricism that denies that noumena can be expressed in
time. But it is one thing to say that something is logically possible and
quite another to say that it has come to pass. My point is that the depth
of our valid moral despair requires real, not logical possibility.
Kant: You make a powerful case.
Kierkegaard: Actually, once again it is your case. You develop it in The
Conflict of the Faculties.
Kant: Do I?
Kierkegaard: Yes, in an oblique way. Do you recall the imaginary
dialogue you present there in the form of a series of objections by a
defender of revealed faith to 'a rational interpretation' of the Bible?
Kant: I would have to search my memory.
Kierkegaard: Let me help you. I actually have a copy of the text here on
this wonderfullaptop computer I purchased.
Kierkegaard withdraws a portable computer from his travelling bag and places
it on the table before them. He types several keystrokes, and smiles with satis-
faction.
Kant: You're right about all this. My reply here mis-states my point.
Kierkegaard: Your subsequent assertions are no more helpful. You say a
direct revelation from God that we will receive his help is unnecessary
because there is 'no other way' we can conceive the decrees of a right-
eous law-giver with regard to 'frail' but morally striving creatures like
ourselves. But this merely restates your position. It is no reply at all to
the objection that even when we have good reason to 'expect some-
thing by the grace of a superior we cannot assume that we must get it as
a matter of course'. I think what the objector is trying to say here is that
it is morally presumptuous on our part to interpret our need as somehow
creating a requirement for God to meet it. Such presumptuousness is
deeply contradictory to the humility that should characterize those
who have come to recognize their sinfulness. But if we have no right to
presume that God will aid us, we return to the question of how those
who are mired in sin can gain the reasonable confidence they need to
renew their striving. Revelation can provide this by offering some evid-
ence (not certain evidence but enough to justify confidence) that God
has committed himself to our redemption.
Kant: An interesting moral point. I like to think of myself as a master of
practical rational arguments, but I am not accustomed to having moral
reason turned against me as you do here. I confess that I can see noth-
ing wrong in what you say.
Kierkegaard: Your final point in this reply strikes me as equally uncom-
pelling.
Kant: Are you referring to my assertion that we show better receptivity
to the manifestation of grace if we rely on faith and trust in God's help
rather than on any definite, empirically given promise?
Kierkegaard: Yes. I'm aware of how central this assertion is to your
practical philosophy. An analogue to it appears at the end of the second
Critique when you say that we are better off lacking knowledge of God's
existence because this affords us the opportunity to develop a purer
moral disposition unaffected by the certainty of reward or punish-
ment.41 I take it that you are trying to say the same thing here: that our
moral sensibilities are sharpened by the absence of security regarding
our redemption. In terms familiar to us both, you are saying that we
must work out our salvation in 'fear and trembling'.
Kant: Again you impress me with your grasp of my writings.
Kierkegaard: But I must say that this is the one place where such uncer-
tainty may be inappropriate. Recall that our morally committed person
who has come to see the depths of his or her sin does not face a problem
of false confidence and assurance, but just the opposite: a paralysing
146 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
and choose to be rational we must harbour these beliefs. But they are by
no means required of one who refuses to make such commitments. As
in all such matters, it is passion and choice that are foremost.
Kant: I fully understand that.
Kierkegaard: But to return to your earlier question of whether we are
rationally required to believe in Christ, there is a second question impli-
cit in this. This is the question of whether, in addition to having a well-
founded belief on which to base our moral rededication, this belief
must focus on God's activity in Jesus Christ. In other words, to what
extent is this single historical faith requisite for salvation?
Kant: I see that question. It is one that preoccupies me. Let me repeat
my specific apprehensions. How can we make human beings' moral
redemption depend on a faith known only by some, with all the impli-
cations this has for dogmatic tyranny, exclusion and oppression?
Kierkegaard: I share your concerns. Let me say, as odd as it may seem,
that this is not a question which I really addressed in my writings.
Remember who my intellectual opponents were. First, the cultured
despisers of Christianity, especially the Hegelians, who denied that we
even needed the faith of the Gospel for our ethico-religious life. These
were the smug, unthinking and very distant heirs to aspects of your
philosophy, convinced that we are the best of men living in the best of
times. Against them I used the moral rigour I learned from you - some-
thing wholly lacking among the Hegelians - to intensify the moral
demand and to develop the importance and value of historical Christian
faith. But at no time was I called on philosophically to defend the
rational necessity of Christian belief in general. My second set of oppon-
ents were the lax residents of 'Christendom' who hardly needed to be
told that Christian faith is necessary. What had to be assaulted was
their confidence that they already had such faith by virtue of their pos-
session of a baptismal certificate or the fact of their birth in a 'Christian'
nation. Hence, a defence of Christian faith against other religious or
philosophical positions was never really my concern.
Kant: I understand that. But how, then, do you answer my question?
Do you believe that a faith in the promise of God's forgiveness through
Christ will alone meet our rational requirements for salvation?
Kierkegaard: This is a difficult question to answer. Frankly, I'm not
sure. On the one hand, like you, I think, I would probably say that
what matters is not our words or even beliefs but our ethico-religious
passion. A person who comes to despair over the rigour of the ethico-
religious demand and who then avoids despair's complex evasions
and accepts the requirement fully is on the road to salvation. On the
The Need for a Historical Faith 149
other hand, I personally find it hard to see how one can come to
know either the requirement or the possibility of meeting it apart from
Christ.
Kant: Would you say, then, that it is impossible to do so? Are there per-
haps other philosophical or religious paths that might take us to these
insights? Perhaps they exist in religious traditions that you and I know
little about? If you have read my Religion carefully, you will note that
I frequently try to suggest that basic Biblical insights have their coun-
terparts in other religious traditionsY Are the concepts requisite for sal-
vation also to be found elsewhere? This is important, because it would
address my inSistence that the religious-moral conceptions we require
must be universal, although these beliefs might take different forms for
different peoples.
Kierkegaard: I suppose that is possible. But I repeat, this was never my
concern, never a part of the challenge I faced. My life task was not to
convert the heathens but to remind those living in Christendom and
claiming to be Christians of the meaning - and the demands - of their
faith.
Kant: I understand that. In this sense, at a different moment in
the development of Christianity, we were not so far apart. For my con-
cern in fighting against historically based ecclesiastical faith was
to combat the dogmatism that had led to moral laxity, conflict, and
violence.
The waiter approaches to say that both men's flights have come up on the
departure screen of the Club's computer and that they had better start for their
boarding gates.
Notes
1. Jerry H. Gill, 'Kant, Kierkegaard and Religious Knowledge', Philosophy and
Phenomenological Research, 28 (1967-8), pp. 188-204; also his article on
'Kant' in Kierkegaard and Great Traditions, vo!. 6 in Bibliotheca Kierkegaard-
iana, ed. Niels Thulstrup and Maria Mikulova Thulstrup (Copenhagen: C. A.
Reitzels Boghandel, 1981), pp. 223-9; John D. Glenn, Jr., 'Kierkegaard's
Ethical Philosophy', Southwestern Journal of Philosophy,S (Spring 1974),
pp. 121--8; Peter J. Mehl, 'Kierkegaard and the Relativist Challenge to Prac-
tical Philosophy', Journal of Religious Ethics, 14: 2 (1987), pp. 247-78; Robert
L. Perkins, 'For Sanity's Sake: Kant, Kierkegaard and Father Abraham', in
Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling: Critical Appraisals, ed. Robert L. Perkins
(Alabama: University of Alabama Press, 1981), pp. 43-61; Ronald M. Green,
Kierkegaard and Kant: the Hidden Debt (Albany, NY: The State University of
New York Press, 1992). Also, R. Z. Friedman, 'Kierkegaard: First Existentialist
or Last Kantian?', Religious Studies, 18: 2 (June 1982), pp. 159-70; Jeremy
D. B. Walker, To Will One Thing: Reflections on Kierkegaard's 'Purity of Heart'
(Montreal and London: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1972); also his
Kierkegaard's Descent into God (Kingston and Montreal: McGill-Queen's Uni-
versity Press, 1985); Alastair Hannay, Kierkegaard (London: Routledge &
Kegan Paul, 1982); William D. Peck, 'On Autonomy: the Primacy of the
Subject in Kant and Kierkegaard', Ph.D Thesis, Yale University, 1974; e. Ste-
phen Evans, Subjectivity and Religious Belief (Washington, D.e.: University
Press of America, 1982); Geoffrey Clive, 'The Connection between Ethics
and Religion in Kant, Kierkegaard and F. H. Bradley', Ph.D Thesis, Harvard
University, 1953.
2. Kierkegaard's favourite descriptor for Kant is '<erlige' (honest). See, for
example, Soren Kierkegaards Papirer, 16 vols. (Copenhagen: Gyldendal, 1909-
78), vnr 2 A 358 n.d.; vnr 2 B 81 n.d., 1847; Xl A 666 n.d., 1849; X2 A 501
1850.
3. In offering this view of the relative novelty of Kant's efforts in the Religion
to explore the extent of our rational freedom from morality, I disagree with
Dennis Savage's estimate that 'Kanfs theory of radical evil in the Religion
contains nothing basically new as compared with his theory of moral good
and evil presented in his [earlier] ethical works.' - 'Kanfs Rejection of Divine
Revelation and His Theory of Radical Evil', in Philip]. Rossi and Michael
Wreen, eds., Kant's Philosophy of Religion Reconsidered (Bloomington: Indi-
ana University Press, 1991), p. 73.
4. Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals, trans. Lewis White Beck (Indiana-
polis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1959), p. 21; Critique of Practical Reason, trans. Lewis
White Beck (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1956), p. 24.
5. Critique of Judgement, trans. J. H. Bernard (New York: Hafner Press, 1951),
p.187.
6. Critique of Practical Reason, p. 151.
7. Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone, trans. Theodore M. Green and
Hoyt H. Hudson (New York: Harper & Row), p. 16.
8. Religion, p. 51.
9. Ibid., p. 35.
10. The Concept of Anxiety, trans. Reidar Thomte (Princeton: Prince ton Univer-
sity Press, 1980), pp. 16f.
The Need for a Historical Faith 151
11. Fear and Trembling, trans. Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1983), pp. 98f.
12. Religion, p. 66.
13. Ibid.
14. Ibid.
15. Gordon E. Michalson, Jr., Fallen Freedom (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1990).
16. Nicholas P. Wolterstorff, 'Conundrums in Kant's Rational Religion', in Rossi
and Wreen, eds., Kant's Philosophy of Religion Reconsidered, pp. 48-9; John E.
Hare, The Moral Gap: Kantian Ethics, Human Limits, and God's Assistance
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), pp. 60-2.
17. Religion, p. 65.
18. Ibid., p. 68.
19. Ibid., p. 131, n.
20. Religion, p. 135, n.
21. Religion, pp. 129-38.
22. 'Inward divine revelation is God's revelation to us through our own rea-
son.' - Forlesungen iiber die philosophische Religionslehre (hrsg. P6litz), 2. Ausgabe
(Leipzig: Taubert, 1830).
23. 'A change of heart such as this must be possible because duty requires it.' -
Religion, p. 60.
24. Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals, Part HI.
25. The Conflict of the Faculties: Der Streit der Fackultiiten, trans. Mary J. Gregor
(New York: Abaris Books, 1979), pp. 127-39.
26. Religion, p. 55.
27. Ibid., pp. 57-9.
28. This conception parallels Kierkegaard's denial that the 'contemporary' is in
any way privileged. See for example, Concluding Unscientific Postscript, trans.
Howard V. Hong and H. Edna Hong, 2 vols. (Princeton: Princeton Univer-
sity Press, 1992), pp. 96-8; Philosophical Fragments, trans. Howard V. Hong and
Edna H. Hong (Princeton: Prince ton University Press, 1985), p. 63; Training
in Christianity, trans. WaIter Lowrie (Princeton: Prince ton University Press,
1941), pp. 43-4. The similarity between Kant and Kierkegaard on this mat-
ter is noted by Gordon Michaelson, Jr. in his Lessing's 'Ugly Ditch': A Study of
Theology and History (University Park, Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State
University Press, 1985), p. 17.
29. Religion, pp. 57f.
30. PAP X 2 A 396 n.d., 1850.
31. For references to these passages, see Green, Kierkegaard and Kant, ch. 1.
32. Religion, p. 64.
33. Ibid., p. 65.
34. Religion, p. 62.
35. Trans. Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong (Princeton: Prince ton University
Press, 1980), pp. 113-14.
36. Philosophical Fragments, ch. 1.
37. Critique ufPure Reasun, trans. Norman Kemp Smith (New York: St. Martin's
Press, 1929), pp. 239-44 [A218-26 = B266-74J.
38. Philosophical Fragments, pp. 39-42.
39. Conflict, p. 83.
152 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
153
154 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
Biographical considerations
I want to begin with a general look at the biographies of the two men
with respect to religious matters. In Kierkegaard's case we have an
unusually massive amount of material, because of his journal comprising
many volumes, and because, in the fashion of romanticism, in which
he was deeply steeped, there is biographical continuity between much
of his writing and his life. With regard to Kant we have neither of these.
We know of his mother's pietistic religious orientation, and of Kant's
being sent to a school with religious practices that he considered
useless, damaging and without rational basis. His life is famous for its
disciplined regularity in fulfilling the academic round, and for his lun-
cheons of three hours or so with civic and academic guests. The paucity
of reference to religious matters in his life itself tells us something. One
story is related of his fellow 'Konigsberger' Hamann, when Kant was 35.
Hamann was employed by a wealthy family in its business. The son,
Christolph Behrens, had been a friend of Hamann's at the city's univer-
sity and both were adherents of the new Enlightenment orientation in
philosophy and in economics. While on a business trip to London,
Hamann underwent a religious experience that converted him to the
Christian faith. After returning home, Hamann became engaged to
Behrens' sister, something that Christolph had supported previously.
But now that Hamann has been infected by traditional Christianity, he
was no longer acceptable as a family member. Behrens tried to combat
the situation by bringing Hamann back to the Enlightenment views he
had once espoused. To aid him in this effort Behrens called on the
young philosopher at the university, Kant, who was known for his
Enlightenment commitments. Behrens and Kant met Hamann in a
tavern and Kant recommended that Hamann should undertake study
of translations of the French Encyclopaedists to help cure him of his
superstitious emotionalism. Apparently, the scathing attacks on Christi-
anity by mostly deistic and some atheistic writers found there was Kant's
prescription for Hamann's falling into Christian faith. 3
Thirty years later, in 1789, a travelling Russian poet and writer,
Nikolai Karamzin, called upon Kant. His account of his evening with
Kant, written when Karamzin had returned to the inn where he was
staying, is as follows:
The Ethical and the Religious as Law and Gospel 1 SS
We are meant to act. Man can never be satisfied with what he has
achieved and always strives for something else. Death stops us on the
way to the fulfillment of our desires. Give man everything he wants
and in the very same moment he will decide that this everything is
not quite everything. Since we cannot see the aim and the end of our
striving in the present, we assume a future in which these difficulties
will be resolved; and this thought is all the more attractive the less
there is a relationship between joy and pain, between satisfaction
and suffering. I take solace in the fact that I am over sixty years old
and that the end of my life cannot be far off; I hope to leave it for a
better one. When I contemplate the joys I have experienced in my
life I find little pleasure; but, when I contemplate the instances in
which I acted in accordance with the moral law engraved in my
heart, I feel the purest joy. I speak of the moral law; others call it con-
science, the feeling of right and wrong. You may call it what you
like, but it exists. I have lied; no man knows it, yet I feel shame. It is
true that the probability of a future life is by no means a guarantee of
it, but when all is said and done, reason commands us to believe in
it. And what would become of us if we could see it with our own
eyes? Could not its charms prevent us from the proper use of it? But
if we talk about destiny, about a future life, we are thereby presup-
posing the existence of an eternal and creative understanding, which
created everything for some purpose - for some good. What? How? -
Here, the wise man must be the first to admit that he has no wisdom.
Here the light of reason goes out, and we are left in darkness. Only
imagination can go astray in the darkness and create phantoms. 4
entered the university, was to attend the Danish state Lutheran church
on Sunday mornings and the meetings of the pietistic Moravian Breth-
ren in the evening, by whom his father had been powerfully influ-
enced. I do not know of any evidence that Kierkegaard continued the
latter as an adult, but constant attendance at public worship was a part
of almost all of his life, not just on Sunday, but also at morning prayers
on weekdays. Kierkegaard regularly prayed twice a day, once in the
morning and once in the evening. The latter time would also be accom-
panied by reading in edifying spiritual material. Kierkegaard himself
was an extensive producer of edifying literature. It is often noted, but
then usually ignored, that when publishing his pseudonymous aesthetic
books he would, under his own name, publish edifying discourses. Reidar
Thomte, a half-century ago, included a chapter on the religiosity of the
edifying discourses in his account of Kierkegaard's philosophy of reli-
gion. How seldom has that been done since in books on the subject!6
But such material as that is larger and continues much longer than, say,
publications under the name of Johannes Climacus. The importance
here is that such edifying material was clearly identified in his time as
'religious'. Kant did not produce such writing in his day. Beginning at
about 21 years of age, Kierkegaard kept a journal, which served a
number of purposes. It was primarily intellectual, dealing with thoughts
and explorations of ideas as his life and study progressed. But it also had
religious uses, recording religious experiences and engagements of life
in the light of God. Such journal keeping, from the late seventeenth
century until the middle of the nineteenth century, was a common reli-
gious activity. We do not know of any such thing with respect to Kant.
After completing his degree in theology in 1841, Kierkegaard entered
the Pastoral Seminary, which was the next step for a theological graduate
who was preparing for ordination in the Lutheran Church. He received
a certificate a year later after completing the initial stage. Part of the
requirements was to deliver public sermons in churches of Copen-
hagen. Kierkegaard presented his first sermon in 1841 and his last one
for the Seminary early in 1844. Kierkegaard preached other sermons
subsequently, the last one in May 1851. In the Seminary he also had to
deal with religious education and catechesis. Kierkegaard's contempor-
aries would have regarded all this participation in the activities of the
Pastoral Seminary as religious. There is nothing in Kanfs life compar-
able to this that would have brought him a similar identification.
Would one expect two men with such sharply differing lives to
agree on the nature and importance of the religious and the manner in
which it is related to the ethical? I think that the answer clearly is that
The Ethical and the Religious as Law and Gospel 157
This pure subjectivity has been freed from the natural, and conse-
quently from what is sensuous, whether this is found in the external
world of sense or is a sensuous idea. It is the spiritual subjective
unity, and it is this which first rightly gets from us the name
God ... It does not manifest itself in any natural material, but in
Thought ...
The Absolute, God, is defined as the one subjectivity, and, as a
consequence, as subjectivity which is universal in itself ...
God is here without form ... There is no image of Him ... He
exists only for thought. The infinite subjectivity is the subjectivity
which thinks .... 10
emphasizes the Judge's themes that relate to choosing oneself and indi-
viduation. He says that this seems different from Kant, but Green refuses
to rest there and suggests that attention to the Foundations of the Meta-
physics of Morals and the Metaphysics of Morals offers possibilities of bor-
rowing by Kierkegaard on such themes. Green says that he does not
insist on the pOint but that it is a reasonable connection. Early in the
book he had noted that we have no evidence that Kierkegaard had read
The Metaphysics of Morals.
I think there is another source which possesses many more direct
possibilities of derivation for the Judge's views, and that is]. G. Fichte's
The Vocation of Man, a book Kierkegaard read in the summer of 1835, a
time during which he was somewhat at sea spiritually. He was affected
significantly by the book and much of the atmosphere of that volume is
applied in the Judge's letters to the supposedly despairing aesthete. The
theme of Fichte's book deals with the conflict between determinism,
called dogmatism by Fichte, on the one hand, and the freedom of ideal-
ism, on the other. If one will choose, then the freedom becomes real. It
is a determination of the will in which the moral difference between
right and wrong becomes viable, something that it is not in determin-
istic dogmatism. When Judge William says that 'My either/or does not
in the first instance denote the choice between good and evil; it denotes
the choice whereby one chooses good and evil/or excludes them', he
could hardly be more Fichtean. l l In the defining determination of the
will to affirm itself, it is choosing the world of freedom as opposed to
deterministic dogmatism. This places one in the realm of conscience
and the ethical life of striving to follow the good. Note the following
passages on choosing oneself:
Kanfs philosophy in its inner unity. Kant, however, did not think that
Fichte's philosophy was congruent with his own. The point is that
certainly there is a Kantian aura about Judge William's ethics, but it is
often not directly derived from Kant. Green's procedure appears to
assume that Kierkegaard had a command of Kant as precise and thor-
ough as his own, so that if there is a text somewhere that could imply
the distinctive ideas of the Judge, then it seems reasonable to assume a
debt to Kant. Such a procedure shuts out the influence of people who
have read and been influenced themselves by Kant, even though they
may depart from him and place what they have learned there in a dif-
ferent framework. They in turn could have subsequently an independ-
ent impact upon Kierkegaard. So with Fichte, even though he was
trying to stay within Kant's philosophy.
This principle of interpretation is relevant to a more prominent
emphasis in Green's book, that of the relation of Kierkegaard's The
Concept of Anxiety to the initial chapter of Kant's Religion which deals
with 'Radical Evil'. This is certainly a significant work in the history
of Western thought concerning the sinfulness of humanity, especially
with regard to original sin. At the beginning of the eighteenth century,
and continuing throughout its course, the theological situation was
one of stark opposition between the orthodox position, which saw the
account of Adam and Eve as something that took place at the beginning
of the creation of humanity, perhaps even at a datable number of years
in the past, and which changed the nature of humanity for all their
posterity, and the rather typical Enlightenment view which rejected
that as a laughing stock. The moral claim of virtue and the destructive-
ness of vice was the essential matter; more than that is priestly balder-
dash.
Kant's chapter in the Religion broke through this impasse. Whether he
was absolutely the first to do so is not the point. He was the first to give
recognition to a new way of approaching the issue, since he was iden-
tified as an avant-garde leader of the Enlightenment. Then he starts
writing about the radical evil in man. Green sees Kierkegaard as directly
keying his discussion in The Concept of Anxiety to this initial chapter
even while going beyond it. Again, however, he does so by ignoring
other sources that have come into play between Kant and Kierkegaard.
The Concept of Anxiety, although included in Kierkegaard's pseudonym-
ous literature, because Virgilius Haufniensis is on the title page, is not
truly of that genre. He only inserted the pseudonym at the last moment
after he had completed the work. There is not a sentence of indirect
communication in the body of the book. The dedication to his beloved
162 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
The difference between the human and the rest of creation is indicated
by the anxiety that precipitates the possibility of sin. This reference
comes from a letter of Hamann to Herder in 1781.
All this I say and repeat in order that men may get rid of the perni-
cious abuse which has become so deeply rooted and still clings to
every man, and that all classes of men on earth may accustom them-
selves to look only to these precepts and heed them. It will be a long
time before men produce a doctrine or social order equal to that of
the Ten Commandments, for they are beyond human power to fuUill.
The Ethical and the Religious as Law and Gospel 167
Anyone who does fulfill them is a heavenly, angelic man, far above
all holiness on earth. Just concentrate upon them and test yourself
thoroughly, do your very best, and you will surely find so much to
do that you will neither seek nor pay attention to any other works or
other kind of holiness. 3o
to this law and for what comes after it. This produces the famous three
spheres of existence, the aesthetic, the ethical and the religious.
Kierkegaard's wide reading in the literature of romanticism supplied
him with considerable inspiration for this aesthetic sphere, which refers
to the root meaning of the word in Greek, aisthesis, and not necessarily
to the artistic. The aesthetic sphere includes difference phases of the
immediate. Kierkegaard gave great attention to the parabolic mythical
figures of Don Juan, Faust and Ahasuerus, the Wandering Jew. Notice in
the following passage how Kierkegaard's doctrinal foundations are evid-
ent in 1836.
Did you wish, could you wish that the case might be different?
Could you wish that you might be in the right? Could you wish that
that beautiful law which for thousands of years has supported the
race and every generation in the race, that beautiful law, more glori-
ous than the law which supports the stars in their courses upon the
vault of heaven, could you wish that this law might burst, with more
dreadful effect than if that law of nature were to lose its force and
everything were to be resolved into appalling chaos? Could you wish
that?43
the sermon is not speaking here of Kant's formulation of the moral law.
Also, the sermon does not speak of redemption and forgiveness at all. It
moves entirely within the framework of the priority of God's Law and
human beings' relation to it. As it is said in The Concept ofAnxiety, ethics,
like the law, is a severe task master. 44
In the Lutheran Confessions, the Gospel is a very different matter.
Indeed, it is said there that 'there is a vast difference between the know-
ledge of God which comes from the Gospel and that which is taught
and learned from the law .... ,45 They both are necessary and must work
together, but they are not to be confused. The Gospel requires faith
whereas the law requires righteousness, it teaches us what is right. 46
Faith is something else, it is 'that worship which receives God's offered
170 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
blessings; the righteousness of the law is that worship which offers God
our own merits'Y The offered blessings referred to are God's promise of
grace and forgiveness.
For the Lutheran Confessions to speak of the Gospel is to speak of
Jesus Christ, for its content comes from who he is and what he does.
The promise of grace and mercy that frees the believer from condemna-
tion and punishment is recognized in Christ, 'who is a mirror of the
Father's heart'.48 Luther's striking phrase here from the Large Catechism
focuses the substance of the Gospel that is deployed through the divine
Son of God assuming human flesh through the Virgin Mary to the
Resurrection and Ascension, expiating the sins of humanity and over-
coming the punishment of death.
The 'mirror of the Father's heart' can only be recognized by faith. But
this faith is not mere historical knowledge. 49 The heart of God is not
discernible in that manner. The historical events must be realized as
they 'give confidence in God and the fulfillment of his promises'. 50 The
limitations of historical knowledge are connected with the contention
of the Confessions that ' ... the divine majesty was concealed and
restrained' during the period of humiliation. The personal union and
communion of the divine and human natures in Christ take the form of
a servant in historical time, but in exaltation the latter is left aside while
the humanity continues in eternity.51
It is a continuing theme of the Lutheran Confessions that these
matters of the Word of God 'are contrary to proud reason and philo-
sophy'.52 Despite the spark of the knowledge that there is a God, human
reason is so perverse that even the most educated cannot by their own
powers comprehend 'the Gospel of the Son of God and the province of
eternal salvation'.53 Over and over the note sounds that blind reason
cannot comprehend Christ's redemption. 54
If the Gospel and the Law are vastly different, Kierkegaard's Fear and
Trembling similarly is concerned to show that the religious sphere is quite
other than the realm of the ethical. Judge William's ethical life includes
a relation to God in various ways, but Abraham's relation to God is
by no means the same as his. The 'Ultimatum' of always being in the
wrong before God returns here as infinite reSignation. Infinite reSigna-
tion both is and is not the 'religious sphere'. On the one hand, in Fear
and Trembling, the author's concern is to articulate the situation of faith
by exploring Abraham's story in respect to Isaac. Abraham believes in
The Ethical and the Religious as Law and Gospel 171
God's promise even though he has been asked to sacrifice Isaac. The
religious sphere is an exploration of what is involved for Abraham in
going further and reaching faith. ss But he goes further than the first
movement, which is infinite resignation. Without the demands of duty
or the Law there would not be the collision of fear and trembling that
Abraham has to endure. Without the infinite resignation of being ready
to sacrifice oneself, the finite one would not reach the validity of the
human in relation to the Eternal; 'only he who draws the knife gets
Isaac'.56 The last movement prior to faith becomes in the Postscript Reli-
giousness A.
Abraham, as the knight of faith, goes further by means of his faith
that by the power of the absurd he will get Isaac back again, that God
will maintain His promise. The word 'absurd' becomes the technical
term for that to which faith is related in Fear and Trembling. Human
reckoning ceases to function for Abraham, 'because faith begins precisely
there where thinking leaves off'.57 Thought can provide that which is
universal, and it sees the individual in its role as part of the universal,
but if Abraham has any validity, then there must be a relation possible
for the individual to the absolute outside and beyond the universal. The
Gospel goes beyond the Law and cannot be subsumed under it. The
Gospel as noted above is 'contrary to reason'. Abraham's faith certainly
fits that.
Green, in The Hidden Debt, argues that Kierkegaard's utilization of
Abraham is connected both with his preoccupation with the sins of
Kierkegaard's father, and the tense familial relationship, on the one
hand, and Kant's denunciation of Abraham's behaviour with Isaac, on
the other. I think the former is tenuous in comparison with the firm
parallel situation with Regina. As for the latter, Green says such criti-
cisms of Abraham 'are not found in the writings of any other previous
philosopher, and they must have caught Kierkegaard's eye,.s8 The
assumption appears to be that philosophers are the ones to consult
regarding Abraham. I think that is strange. Why look to philosophers?
Theology would offer a more promising arena for a discussion of a scrip-
tural text, especially for one whose formal education is theological.
Why assume that the concern with Abraham that could have influ-
enced Kierkegaard would take the form of criticisms of Abraham?
I hold that Christian theology is a more promising source, and, as
usual, will look to the Lutheran Confessions concerning direction on
Abraham. In 1577, the final document of the Confessions was pro-
duced, The Formula of Concord, written by a number of theologians led
by Jacob Andreae and Martin Chemnitz. The occasion was to fine tune
172 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
I hold that S0ren Kierkegaard read this passage too, and that the indica-
tions are quite strong that he had received guidance from it in his treat-
ment of Abraham in Fear and Trembling. The overall thrust of these
words is consistent with the perspective of the Confessions that the
Word of God is contrary to reason in its fallenness, but this tenet is spe-
cifically elaborated through the Abraham/Isaac story that is the central
The Ethical and the Religious as Law and Gospel 173
For Kierkegaard, the absurd is the negative criterion for that which is
higher than human understanding and knowledge. 63 For that reason
the power of the absurd cannot become part of a system of thought.
One should not think that one can fit the manifestation of the heart of
God into the framework of human reason. Like Luther's phrase, the
mirror of God the Father's heart, Kierkegaard's 'the absurd' stretches
174 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
Notes
1. S0ren Kierkegaard's Journal and Papers, ed. H. & E. Hong (Bloomington, Indi-
ana, 1967), #1550. Henceforth J&P.
2. Kant-Anekdoten, ed. Kurt Grau (Berlin, 1924), p. 40.
3. lames O'Flaherty, Johann Georg Hamann (Boston, 1979), p. 44.
176 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
4. Arsenij Gulyga, Immanuel Kant: His Life and Thought (Boston, 1987), p. 1
5. Karl Barth, Protestant Theology in the 19th Century (Valley Forge, PA, 19
p.267.
6. Kierkegaard's Philosophy of Religion (Princeton, 1949), pp. 121-45.
7. J&P, #6888; S('Iren Kierkegaard (New York, 1963), p. 72.
8. The Hidden Debt (Albany, NY, 1992), p. 31. Henceforth HD.
9. H. E. G. Paulus, Das Leben Jesu (Heidelberg, 1828); C. F. Ammon, Die Gesch
des Leben Jesu (1842).
10. G. W. F. Hegel, Lectures on the Philosophy of Religion, trans. E. Speirs and
Sanderson (New York, 1962), Vol. II, pp. 171-2. It is important to refE
this 1895 translation of the Mahrheinecke 1840 edition as that editio
the one Kierkegaard used. Henceforth LPR.
11. Either/Or, trans. W. Lowrie (Princeton, 1971), Vol. II, p. 173. Henceforth 1
12. The Vocation of Man, trans. W. Smith and R. Chisholm (New York, 19
pp. 23, 31, 84, 91.
13. The Concept of Anxiety (Princeton, 1980), p. 20. Henceforth, CA.
14. The Christian Faith (Philadelphia, 1976), p. 292. Henceforth, CF.
15. Ibid., p. 291.
16. Ibid.
17. CA, p. 25.
18. CF, p. 288.
19. CA, p. 80.
20. CF, p. 288.
21. CA, p. 28.
22. CF, p. 304.
23. CA, p. 33.
24. Ibid., p. 34.
25. J&P, #96.
26. Peter Rohde, S('Iren Kierkegaard (New York, 1963), p. 32.
27. The Book of Concord, ed. T. Tappert (Philadelphia, 1959), 'The Apology
Philip Melancthon, p. 103.
28. LPR, Vol. Ill, pp. 155-367.
29. HD, p. 152.
30. The Book of Concord, p. 408.317.
31. John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, ed. ]. T. McNeill (PI
delphia, 1960), Bk. II, ch. 7, ch. 8, #1-6; John Wesley's Fifty-Three Serm
ed. E. Sugden (Nashville, 1983), 'The Righteousness of Faith'.
32. Concluding Unscientific Postscript, trans. D. Swenson and W. Lowrie (Prt
ton, 1941), p. 347. Henceforth CUP.
33. Romans 2: 12f.
34. Romans 5: 13.
35. Romans 5: 20; 7: 7.
36. I Corinthians 2:14.
37. The Book of Concord, p. 29.
38. J&P, #795.
39. J&P, #48; CUP, p. 387.
40. The Book of Concord, p. 29.
41. HD, p. 221.
42. The Book of Concord, p. 112.40.
The Ethical and the Religious as Law and Gospel 177
178
Voices in Discussion 179
did not see it that way. Why not? Because the background to his thought
is Lutheran piety in which the law is extremely important. Judge William
is important because, despite being associated with the law, he does not
shy away from the importance of God. So when we make our twentieth-
century transitions, we ought to appreciate the tradition which Kierke-
gaard reflects.
So the movement from law to Gospel (see the title of my paper) is a
transition known in the orthodox tradition of Lutheran piety as the
Book of Concord. Kierkegaard's own education was of one going into
the Lutheran ministry. He completed the requirements of the seminary
after graduating from Copenhagen. In his Journals things come out of
the Lutheran Confession again and again. The religious notions of in-
carnation, atonement and forgiveness are taken, in his discussions, out
of the Lutheran Confession.
Yesterday's discussions turned to Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac. I am
indebted to 5 for emphasizing the importance of Kant's comments on
this in The Conflict of the Faculties. He thinks, however, that Kierkegaard
is responding to Kant in his discussion, whereas I think it has another
source.
When the Lutherans want to deny transubstantiation, they do not
think that the alternative is to talk of symbols and metaphors. They
think that is inadequate. As I show (on p. 172) it is at this point that
Kierkegaard invokes Abraham as an example of one who did not allow
reason to prevent him from believing God's promises. So the Luther-
ans do not turn away from saying 'This is my body' and 'This is my
blood'.
So Kierkegaard is deeply influenced by Lutheran orthodoxy, as that
passage about Abraham indicates. Most Enlightenment thinkers would
not be too keen on Abraham! So I have argued that Kierkegaard is insist-
ing on the importance of the relation of law to the Gospel in under-
standing these spheres of existence, rather than taking off from where
Kant left matters. Again and again the work of God is contrary to
reason, and in his Journals Kierkegaard says that it is unthinkable that
the Fall should not have affected man's cognitive as well as his moral
reason.
I have not emphasized my points of agreement with 5, and they are
many. Instead, I have concentrated on his emphasis on Judge William,
the Fragments, the first Critiqlle, and the point that reason raises ques-
tions which reason itself cannot answer. On the other hand, as I have
said, I found 5's discussion of The Conflict of the Faculties insightful.
But as to 5's main theme, I have suggested that the differences between
Voices in Discussion 181
Kant and Kierkegaard are greater than he suggests, and that is due to the
Lutheran sources from which Kierkegaard drew his inspiration.
W: I appreciate the discussion, but how do you think its theological
categories could be adapted to the religious pluralism so evident to us in
California? Forgive me for taking matters off on a different track.
S: Of course, I did not address that issue at all. On the other hand,
I hoped to use Kant's Religion, not as a Christian apologetic, but as a
framework within which religion can be discussed. In other religions,
the same issues will arise, although they will be mediated differently.
I wanted to get outside narrow dogmatic limits and take seriously the
challenge from another camp, as it were.
P: I think that the notion of grace is central in the discussion. Why is it
absent in the second Critique, but found in Religion?
S: I think that Kant on grace is very much work in progress. There is no
hint of grace in the Critique. That it should come in Religion to a man of
over 80 is remarkable. Some have said that here we see Kant in his sen-
ility. Elsewhere, in the second Critique, Kant is convinced that we can
attain virtue by our own strivings. But at the beginning of Religion comes
an idea which he develops - that a single imperfection destroys our
moral worth. We are incapable of redeeming ourselves. Religion answers
our practical problems.
But at this point things get messy. We are offered no more than piece-
meal notions that are not worked out. At one pOint the divine comes in
the form of an intuition. God can put aside our single act with a time-
less insight of its significance which is beyond our means. There is no
good answer given to these questions. The task of philosophy and theo-
logy is to seek to understand these aspects of the problem.
M: Kant actually wrote the Religion when he was 69. One way Kant puts
his arguments is to say that if we do what we can, God will complete it.
That is a common view.
For Kierkegaard, on the other hand, grace has a different economy of
redemption. It is a different way of God's dealing with the world - a
contrast. We can't get that out of Kant.
L: I'm not sure that it is the task of theology to try to figure out the
operations of grace as Kant tries to do in Religion. Grace is just as much
of a mystery as evil. Is our need one for better arguments?
S: I disagree. We have to distinguish between the how of grace and free-
dom and the logic thereof. We can understand the logic of human evil;
we can understand how people can possess knowledge and yet feel the
pull of evil, putting their needs first. But how one or the other prevails is
impenetrable. Similarly, I can spell out the logic of divine sovereignty
182 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
in terms of the moral creator of the universe, but the how can't be
developed.
L: You say there's a logic to the Fall by saying that we have a deep pre-
disposition towards evil. But this reference to inclination does not
explain anything.
S: Experience leads to the postulation of what is necessary. But where
grace is concerned we simply do not have that. The logic of the situation
comes up against mystery.
N: I think S's answer to P's question would make no sense if Kant had
been brought up an atheist. But he, too, had a religious background.
Further, he was a private tutor in his twenties in the house of a local
pastor, and preached sermons in his twenties.
M: I appreciate that reference.
N: I do not think he changed his religious commitment. What changed
was his understanding of it. I do not think the radical nature of evil
dawned late on him. Rather, he had an architectonic conception of his
work - he moved from problem to problem. In the second Critique he
is not doing philosophy of religion. He is doing moral philosophy. He
is trying to reach a definition of morality, and to reach an answer to
the question, Why be moral?, if morality is what I've just experienced.
The few comments on religion are secondary to morality. It is because
of morality that we need religion.
0: I find what Kant says about grace to be coherent. S suggests that his
remarks are piecemeal. But isn't his maxim already present in the Stoic
maxim - we have to make ourselves what we are? That is in Kant's Reli-
gion as well. It is fully intelligible.
S: No, I disagree. 'The moral' is present in our normal experience. In the
'right' I find the reality of the 'can', and the completion of the 'can' is
grace. But every man must show himself worthy of grace by virtue of
his general moral disposition. It is at this point that Kierkegaard jumps
on the argument and attacks the duality of faith and morality.
0: We could make the whole thing consistent if we take the Stoic
maxim to refer to the law as it appears to us, rather than the law as it is.
I'm not suggesting that is how Kant put it.
S: But isn't moral renewal the answer?
E: Why is this whole discussion making me extremely uncomfortable?
It bases moral experience on legal concepts. As an Anabaptist I believe
that God created us as a parent, not as a judge. What God would con-
demn us for one misdemeanour?
G: In the second Critique the appeal to immortality is inconsistent with
the notion of self-sufficiency. The point is not that we need time to
Voices in Discussion 183
improve. The real problem is that you find that the maxim on which
you have acted is corrupt. This is not a matter of one slip. It is about this
that one feels an infinite guilt. Why it happens and what to do in face
of it is a mystery.
5: One sin is a sin. It is childish people who say we need more.
E: I simply do not understand it. Why should one misdemeanour make
all the difference?
A: Well, it would for Kant and Kierkegaard. They differ in their responses
concerning the self. For Kant, the self is involved in a timeless Fall. For
Kierkegaard, the self is historical and relational. So for Kierkegaard a his-
torical religion is the means by which I become myself. Kant could not
respond to that without giving up his conception of the self.
S: That is a hard question to answer. I did not attempt to address his
whole philosophy, but only what might be called the anthropocentric
aspects of the problem. In the Religion evil is caused by my attitude to
others. It is only in connection with the ethical commonwealth that
any notion of a church enters his thought.
M: Strangely enough, however, Kant makes more of moral community
in the Religion than he does elsewhere. The burden of the book is on
man in history. By contrast, the one topic in the Lutheran Confession
that Kierkegaard keeps away from is that of the Church. So it could be
said that, in this respect, Kant makes the better attempt.
V: Kierkegaard goes back, not to the Church, but to primordial religious
experience. Kant, on the other hand, is continuing a rational tradition.
C: It is as though Kierkegaard were saying, 'Think like this about your
sins'. Why that way of thinking is available is, for the believer, a mys-
tery - a grace. Now this notion of mystery is not a second-best to know-
ledge. It is not like saying, 'How he lifted that infinite guilt off my
shoulders is a mystery to me, but he must have done it somehow.' That
makes it look as though we ought to be able to work it out, but cannot
because of our finitude. But that is simply a contingent mystery; some-
thing we happen not to know. But the mystery of grace is the mystery
of an undeserved gift - that I can be seen in that way. This is crucial to
the kind of gratitude grace inspires. It is not the gratitude of finding
someone who knows how something works when I do not.
M: Some say that Kierkegaard went in the direction he did because he
turned from the tradition he inherited from Kant. No, there is no natural
theology in the Lutheran tradition.
S: I cannot accept that Kierkegaard wanted to return to a primordial
religious experience. He is a sophisticated thinker and does not take the
side of primitive faith against philosophy.
184 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
The subject that I want to consider here is not simply eternal life in
Kant or Kierkegaard, but eternal life as it is properly understood in
Christianity. I am not proposing a new view of this subject but recalling
a concept that is often buried beneath commonplace religion and much
of traditional philosophy. Thus, I am not arguing that the view that
I want to uphold is the most popular, only that it is the one towards
which believers gravitate as their understanding deepens.
In spite of the fact that many Christians believe that eternal life
requires the immortality of the soul (as it is usually understood), I want
to suggest that it does not. Believers do, of course, speak of sharing in
the eternal life of God; so I am not questioning that. But the permanent
survival of a metaphysical soul-substance is not a necessary condition
for eternal life.
The difference between the temporal survival of a soul-substance and
a timeless conception of eternity can be illuminated by contrasting the
views of Immanuel Kant, who thought that a post-mortem extension of
life is required by morality, and S0ren Kierkegaard, who understood the
eternal in a perspective that is crucially linked to the concept of grace.
Grace, because it is promised in answer to the central difficulty of life -
the subjective task of finding, affirming or simply being oneself - repres-
ents an absolute solution to this essential problem of life because it
refers this difficulty to God, for whom all things are possible. Christianity
speaks of the peace that comes from living in the promise of such grace,
therefore, as something unconditional. Because it does not depend on
us (it cannot be earned), it is independent of time. And because it is
independent of time, it is eternal. Kant does not resort to the concept of
grace in such an unqualified way, and it is this fact, I want to argue,
that leads him to endorse a much different concept of the eternal.
187
188 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
Kant shared Kierkegaard's sense that the primary task of life was being
a self; yet for him self-affirmation depended on self-worth, and that was
something to be won by moral effort. Moreover, since self-worth can-
not be fully established in this life, then it must, he reasoned, be attain-
able in some sort of future life. That is the crucial point. We have every
reason to believe in such a life because we know that we cannot be obli-
gated to do something that we cannot possibly accomplish; and since
the moral ideals of practical reasoning require perfect compliance,l it
follows that the moral effort needed to attain this perfection must
somehow continue beyond the conditions of this life. Practical reason,
therefore, has no alternative: there must be some sort of life beyond the
grave, since the necessity of this on-going life is simply the con-
sequence of insisting that moral perfection must be attainable.
Kierkegaard also starts from this same uncompromising insistence on
proving one's moral worth, which is a moral condition for an indi-
vidual's self-affirmation. But he takes our failures here more seriously
than Kant, despairing of our capacity to reach the goal of moral perfec-
tion. For such worthiness is not self-generated. Believers speak of this
worth as something that enables them to stand before God because
they have a moral acceptability that does not belong to them by right.
So instead of understanding eternal life as an endless extension of
temporal existence - that is, as a set of new circumstances in which we
might have the chance to fulfil the demands of the moral law - Kierke-
gaard understands moral worthiness as something that only becomes
clear when one accepts oneself in the light of a gratuitous permission.
This means that eternal life for Kierkegaard is intelligible only through
a metabasis in all geno,Z a fundamental change in the way that we think
of ourselves. To accept the promise of grace is to cease thinking that
people have to secure their moral worth by their own efforts. Rather
than being a reward attained as a result of moral achievement, grace is a
satisfaction acquired in the midst of striving. It is in fact an eternal gift
that brings with it an absolute victory over time.
Kierkegaard's teaching is nothing new, being little more than a
restatement of Christianity's teachings about eternal life. But there is still
value in being clear, and the contrast with Kant might help to illuminate
Kierkegaard's clarification of this central religious concept.
concern for the moral law as such. Thus, a person who is morally virtu-
ous must not afford any natural or selfish motivations a role in deter-
mining either the content of his duty or the motivation to comply with
it. That, in fact, is what the moral goodness of one's will is: acting solely
for the sake of moral ends, where the goodness of one's will is deter-
mined by respect for the moral law itself. This does not mean that
moral living reqUires the extinction of a person's natural motivations.
These natural incentives remain as subordinate motives, and their satis-
faction is ultimately as important to our happiness as the fulfilment of
our moral obligations. The ultimate end of life, therefore, is not merely
the attainment of a clear conscience (moral contentment), but the
achievement of a higher good that includes both moral self-satisfaction
and fulfilment of natural desire. For Kant this was axiomatic: reason
demands that the most complete conception of the good (the summum
bonum) be approached through virtue and then rounded out with the
satisfaction of one's wishes. 3
The exact relationship between reason, the hope of happiness, and
the moral determination of the will is difficult to state. One could say
that specifically moral reasoning finds its end in duty alone, whereas
reasoning in general allows natural incentives their due in the reward
that must crown virtue. Or one might say that the happiness that
comes from the satisfaction of natural desires only comes into focus
when one ceases to think about duty as an individual agent and
reflects on the highest end of all agents. In any case, the determination
of one's behaviour must pass through the purifying screen of morality
before happiness can be acknowledged as a motive for practical reason.
For we are obligated to pursue our duties without the idea of an ulter-
ior reward serving as a higher incentive, and only when moral ends
receive priority does it make any sense to speak of reconciling moral
incentives with happiness. Once that point has been made, however,
happiness is to be included in the sum of all goods, the summum
bonum. 4
If the reward of natural happiness is ever to be squared with the
attainment of moral worth, however, there must be a power capable of
remaking the natural conditions of life (the world) so that virtuous
behaviour leads to non-moral rewards. This presumes, again, that the
attainment of moral virtue is pOSSible, since we would not hold ourselves
responsible for achieving such a moral end if this were not possible. Yet
under the conditions of this life, happiness is not apportioned to virtue,
and the perfecting of our moral will seems to be an utterly unrealistic
hope. Only if the conditions of this life are extended, therefore - and
190 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
Nay more: if after this life another life awaits him, he may hope to
continue to follow this course still- though to all appearances under
other conditions - in accordance with the very same principle, and
to approach even nearer to, though he can never reach, the goal of
perfection. All this may he reasonably hope because, on the strength
of what he has observed in himself up to the present, he can look
upon his disposition as radically improved ... [In this] experience we
have a glimpse of an immeasurable future, yet one which is happy
and to be desired. IS
II
eternity is not like a new world, so that one who had lived in time
according to the ways of the time world and of the press of busyness,
if he were to make a happy landing in eternity itself, could now try
his luck in adopting the customs and practices of eternity. 18
spite of the fact that this sort of transition is presumed (not justified) by
reasoning, most of us still think that the acceptance of basic moral prin-
ciples is eminently sensible. They are anything but leaps into an absurd
domain of thought. 23
The difference here between Kant and Kierkegaard does not concern
the rationality of 'choosing the ethical', then. While this particular
transition from one type of reasoning to another (a metabasis in all gena)
is not forced by argument and thus remains a choice, neither is it irra-
tional in the sense of being inappropriate. The question is, are there any
further changes that define the framework in which judgement is cast
that are as appropriate as this one? Kant thought that no further leaps
were needed, since religious ideas are but extensions of ideas already
implicit in practical (moral) reasoning. For Kierkegaard, though, another
metabasis in all gena must be negotiated before a person can rest from
the labours of becoming a self. This second metabasis (which remains a
choice, not only because it cannot be said to follow from objective con-
siderations, but also because it requires a transformation in one's person)
is the entry into the world of faith, premised on the morally unaccount-
able notion of grace.
Earlier I said that bringing the whole of one's life under the concept
of grace stands outside of the means-end thinking that dominates
Kant's morality. Remember that Kant thought that we had to accept
some form of on-gOing (though noumenal) life beyond the grave
simply because the ultimate end of life, not only perfect virtue but the
good that attends it, must be achievable. Yet those who believe in grace
cease thinking of their ultimate worth and well-being as an end to be
attained as a result of what they do. That is what the belief in grace is all
about: one's worth is underwritten from without, the task of becoming
oneself does not have to be achieved as a project but accepted as a gift,
and the hope for final peace therefore does not rest with oneself. Under-
lying this change in the way one thinks about moral projects is the
subjective quest to be made whole, to become oneself. This quest
might not sound like much, since most of us are not sufficiently earnest
about such things. We avoid strenuous or conscientious reflection about
ourselves and our duties, managing to forget past failures and to get
on with our lives, as if our wholeness as persons were hardly affected.
The more earnestly that we 'choose ourselves', however, the more honest
we become about our failures to live up to the ideal that we would have
ourselves to be; and the inevitable result is inner division within our-
selves. Then we can no longer excuse ourselves by forgetfulness; we have
'chosen ourselves' - chosen, that is, to live up to moral ideals - and the
198 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
only thing that we have to blame for our failures is ourselves. Conse-
quently, if we are honest with ourselves, we cannot escape the respons-
ibility for our acts or the guilt that goes with them. Here it is our own
will that is at fault. Yet how can this will be repaired so that our inner
dissatisfaction with ourselves can be overcome? Can this be accomp-
lished by renewed effort, or is there another way?
This question arises in a particularly sharp way for Kant because of
the unpredictable and inscrutable nature of the will. The will, as he put
it, is radically evil, not in the sense that every act of will is morally
blemished, but in the sense that the good orientation of the will remains
unaccountably subject to the diversion of other motivations. The possib-
ility of wrongdoing therefore cannot be ruled out even for the most
ardent moralist. And yet this possibility must be eliminated if one is to
attain the purely good will that both Kant and Kierkegaard require. 24
Again, therefore, we have to ask ourselves how our worth might be
re-established once we have fallen short of what our duty requires.
What is to prevent us from falling short in the future?
Here is where the difference that separates Kant's understanding of
Christianity from Kierkegaard's stands out. Kant thought that amend-
ments in one's will could always be made simply by repentance. To repent
for him was to acknowledge responsibility for one's wrongdoing and to
reaffirm one's efforts to escape from the ego-centred habit of enshrining
prudential motives above those of duty. This sort of repentance suppos-
edly makes amends for past wrongdoings because it involves the suffer-
ing humiliation of the ego. 25 But for Kant - and this is the important
point - repentance makes these amends without the need for forgive-
ness. For on his view a repentant will is able to accomplish its own
cleansing despite the inscrutable ground of its own repeated failures. 26
It is helpful to think of Kierkegaard as starting from this same diffi-
CUlty. Can it make any sense to absolve oneself of past misdeeds simply
by repenting? Similarly, can one know that one's morally renewed
intentions will lead to perfect virtue, if only one is given an endless
opportunity to prove one's worth? Kierkegaard disagreed with Kant
about this. Mere repentance (without forgiveness) does not atone for
anything, since that kind of repentance simply focuses one's awareness
on the weight of one's sins. Such repentance might indeed restore the
goodness of one's intentions, but it takes more than this to heal the
painful disrelationship within the self that is caused by guilty conscience.
ror that, gUilt must be removed. Sins must be remembered in order to
be repented, but then they must be washed away. Any attempt to under-
stand Christianity apart from the morally offensive possibility of sheer
Kant and Kierkegaard on Eternal Life 199
III
absolute because it is both the highest end of human life and is satisfied
without being made dependent on the condition of human moral
strength. Eternal life, so to speak, is boundless - free of all temporal con-
ditions - because it comes from God, according to his mercy.
In the life of Socrates, we see a similar example of what it means to
abide in unconditional confidence; and it is illuminating to compare
Socrates' thoughts about the eternal with those of Kierkegaard. As Soc-
rates was on the verge of being condemned to death, he told his jurors
that he could not be harmed. He was not making an empirical boast;
he was saying that no matter what they did to him (and he knew that
they could kill him) his suffering would not amount to harm in compar-
ison to a peace that was already his. He had this peace because he had
shifted his sense of what mattered from worldly advantages to the
inward integrity of living wholeheartedly for what is good and true.
By so doing, he had placed himself beyond the reach of ordinary mis-
fortune. No events in his life, including his death, could disturb this
kind of inward self-satisfaction.
According to D. Z. Phillips, such transparent self-acceptance comes
from seeing oneself from a timeless or eternal point of view. Socrates,
Phillips says, did not assess himself from 'in the midst of life', where
concerns over the past and anxiety of the future might worry him.
Instead, he saw himself sub specie aeternitatis, as if his life were a com-
pleted whole. The judgements that he made about himself from that
point of view had the air of finality. Yet this finality was not fearful for
Socrates because he had devoted himself entirely to the good, and as
long as he remained fixed on that, he was sure that he was living as
worthily as he possibly could. That made his relationship to himself
secure from the disasters that time might bring, and in that sense,
eternally secure. 36
It might be argued that Socrates still expected a life spent in the pur-
suit of the good to continue beyond the grave, since he did, after all,
argue for the immortality of the soul. But I think that his arguments,
like the colourful visions that accompanied his last teachings, were
figurative expressions of his absolute security. In other words, they do
not have to be read as the supporting arguments for his confidence, as if
he first assured himself of the soul's immortality before deciding to pur-
sue the good. The confidence that he came to in devoting himself to
virtue was prior to such speculative ideas. When he described his beliefs
as myths, he was not counting on the literal truth of what he was trying
to communicate. 3 ? Instead, he presented his confidence in imaginary
pictures because he was sure only of one thing - that the integrity of
Kant and Kierkegaard on Eternal Life 203
all geno, surrendering whatever attempts he had made to prove his worth
and trusting in the gratuitous promise that he received from Jesus. Yet
what applies to the thief here, Kierkegaard says, applies to everyone.
'Even now today art thou in Paradise', and thus the transition from
time to eternity (the greatest possible transition) is so swift ... For if
thou dost remain in God, then whether one live or die, and whether
it goes well with thee or ill whilst thou livest, whether thou diest
today or only after seventy years, or whether thou findest thy death
at the bottom of the sea where it is the deepest, or whether thou art
scattered in the air - thou remainest, and so thou remainest present
to thyself in God, and art therefore at the day of thy death even now
in Paradise. 42
Notes
1. Kant repeatedly makes this point about duty; e.g. in Religion Within the Limits
of Reason Alone, trans. Theodore Greene and Hoyt Hudson (New York: Harper
Torchbooks, 1960), pp. 43 and 55. As for the requirement that we become
perfect, he takes this as a divine command. See Religion, pp. 54 and 59.
2. This term is borrowed, by both Kant and Kierkegaard, from Aristotle. It refers
to a qualitative change in judgement or a transition between two species of
reflection.
3. Immanuel Kant, Critique of Practical Reason (New York: Liberal Arts Press,
1956), p. 114.
4. Ibid., pp. 114-15, 128-9.
5. Ibid., pp. 126-7.
6. Ibid.
7. Ibid., pp. 134-5.
8. Ibid., pp. 122-4.
9. Ibid., p. 129.
Kant and Kierkegaard on Eternal Life 205
10. See Victoria Wike, Kant on Happiness in Ethics (Albany: State University of
New York Press, 1994), ch. 1 and ch. 6. See also Ronald M. Green, Kierke-
gaard and Kant: the Hidden Debt (Albany: State University Press of New York,
1992), pp. 52-4. Green's book is particularly relevant here, since it is his
thesis that Kierkegaard's discussion of faith presumes the foil of a Kantian
background.
11. Immanuel Kant, 'The End of All Things', in Perpetual Peace and Other Essays,
trans. Ted Humphrey (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Co., 1983), pp. 93-105.
12. Ibid., pp. 97-101.
13. Religion Within the Limits of Reason Alone, pp. SS, 59-60.
14. Ibid., pp. 60-1.
15. Ibid., p. 62.
16. See Green, Kant and Kierkegaard. Green stresses the similarity of moral interests
between Kant and Kierkegaard, but he also notes their differences when it
comes to the possibility of a historically mediated grace.
17. S0ren Kierkegaard, Christian Discourses, trans. WaIter Lowrie (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1971), p. 215.
18. Kierkegaard, Purity of Heart, trans. Douglas V. Steere (New York: Harper and
Row, 1956), pp. 106-7.
19. Christian Discourses, pp. 212-13.
20. Ibid.
21. Purity of Heart, pp. 40-1, 44-6.
22. Again, Kant mistakenly believed that a strong emphasis on divine grace
entailed a weakening of one's moral resolve. 'If my happiness is provided
for me, why should I bother with what I do?' However, if the concept of
grace takes shape only for those whose moral seriousness has left them
unable to affirm themselves, then it does not undercut moral effort but
simply steers this effort clear of the threat of inward self-alienation (des-
pair). See below.
23. See Green, Kant and Kierkegaard, for a discussion of the necessity for such
'leaps'; pp. 139-46.
24. Greene, Kant and Kierkegaard, pp. 156-67. Here Green's attempt to show
that Kierkegaard relied heavily on a Kantian understanding of sin is particu-
larly persuasive.
25. Religion, pp. 67-71, 77. See also Green, who argues that Kant preserves
a place for grace in his theory, but grace in Kant's sense, as I want to
show, remains fundamentally different from Kierkegaard's understanding;
pp. 169-75.
26. Green, pp. 66-7.
27. Strictly speaking, one could not even be sure that one's intentions in the
present are pure. The will is radically evil, and therefore no such conclusion
about its ultimate purity can ever be drawn with certainty.
28. Purity of Heart, pp. 99-103.
29. Religion, pp. 60-1.
30. Ibid., p. 47.
31. JiJid., pp. 98-100,162-3, 18lff.
32. Ibid., pp. 108-9.
33. Kierkegaard, For Self-Examination and Judge for Yourselves, trans. Waiter
Lowrie (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1941), pp. 95 and 206-7.
206 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
Prelude
207
208 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
and the role of grace in religious life. On the latter account, talk of
immortality is not so much predictive as evaluative. It does not signify a
post-mortem extension of life, but rather a mode of judging this life sub
specie aeternitatis 3 which can also nourish the hope of unconditional
self-acceptance through grace. Whittaker's view is that, while many
Christians believe that eternal life requires the immortality of the soul,4
construed as the permanent survival of a metaphysical soul-substance,
it is, in fact, the alternative construal of immortality towards which
Christianity gravitates as it deepens. What this means is, of course, that
(a) many Christians may currently be subscribing to a picture of immor-
tality that is not (yet) deep - an embarrassing conclusion, which is not
likely to go unchallenged. Equally provocative is Whittaker's suggestion
that, at the philosophical level, (b) Kant is subject to such embarrass-
ment, too, since the idea of immortality as endless, temporal duration
on the one hand, and that of moral accomplishment as a necessary con-
dition of self-worth, on the other, occupy such a prominent place in his
discussion of the issue. s In the terms of Dickinson's simile: aboard
Kant's philosophical carriage, Immortality does not cut a particularly
edifying figure because she is merely a theoretical prerequisite for an
endless post-mortem journey to moral perfection, rather than, as Kier-
kegaard would see it, a pre-mortem recognition of timeless self-worth,
effected as an act of grace. Kant's conception of immortality lacks
depth, in other words, because it turns self-worth into a transcendental
goal, while simultaneously overestimating the role that moral accom-
plishment can play in its attainment. On Whittaker's account, by
contrast, eternal life means 'an inward form of self-satisfaction',6 and is
already available 'in the midst of striving''? in this life, even though it
'can only be received as if it were a gift'.8 This gift of self-acceptance is
life in so far as it conveys a sense of 'absolute well-being'/ and it is
eternal because it is 'timelessly secure'.1O
Now, it seems to me, firstly, that the depth of this construal very
much depends on what it is intended to show. For it is one thing to
argue that the proposed conception of eternal life captures a dimension
of belief in immortality, and quite another to postulate an equivalence
relation, such that to make peace with oneself is to attain eternal life,
and the hope for immortality just is the hope that divine grace may
grant one such unconditional self-acceptance. The weaker claim seems
to me to be both true and important, whereas the stronger can only be
maintained in forgetfulness of the conceptual links between immortal-
ity and what is clearly an integral part of it, viz. bodily resurrection.
One point I want to argue, therefore, is that Whittaker has at best drawn
Kant and Kierkegaard on Eternal Life - a Reply 209
The pOint of this remark is not to deny that the believer thinks
he will be judged 'at the end of time', but rather to caution us in the
Kant and Kierkegaard on Eternal Life - a Reply 211
no sensible man would insist that these things are as I have described
them, but I think it is fitting for a man to risk the belief - for the risk
is a noble one - that this, or something like this, is true about our
souls and their dwelling places, since the soul is evidently immortal,
and a man should repeat this to himself as if it were an incantation,
which is why I have been prolonging my tale. IS
The remark that 'no sensible man would insist that these things are as
I have described them' nicely echoes Wittgenstein's point that 'the reli-
gious person never believes what I describe',I9 if what I describe is a
mysterious gathering of particles, corpses rising from their graves, and
an event that would, at least in principle, be describable within the
parameters of scientific inquiry. However, the point of this divertimento
is not to accuse Whittaker of ascribing to Christians beliefs they do not
hold; on the contrary, he may well be right. My query rather concerns
the justification for claiming that such-and-such is what is believed,
and here it seems to me that verbal testimony alone may be insuffi-
Ciently conclusive to move from something like (a) to (a") above. It
seems to me that religious belief, including belief in immortality, is far
too ragged to warrant the charge that the believer must, as it were, be
mistaking the picture for the representation and hold that life eternal is
simply life, infinitely extended. But let us grant, for the sake of argu-
ment, that many Christians do construe immortality, not only as endless
duration, but as endless duration of a soul-substance. Why should the
212 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
While never formally defined, the fact of a direct creation of each indi-
vidual soul belongs to the deposit of the Christian faith. Implicitly
taught by the Fifth Lateran Council ... it is part of the vast treasury
of revealed truths which are jealously safeguarded by the Church.
( ... ) The Church has never defined the exact moment when the
soul is created and infused into the body to form this unique
human person. But the Church's mind on the matter can be deduced
from its age-long attitude towards abortion. 22
The mistake has already been made when one claims, as Ramsey does,
that one can imagine a familiar object in motion, such as a wheel, never
coming to rest. For the wheel imagined to be in perpetual motion is, of
course, nothing like the wheel initially recalled from experience. The
latter does not exist in vacuo but is usually part of a mechanism whose
components generate friction, require energy to stay operational, must
be serviced as time goes by, eventually wear out, etc. Thus, both the
wheel and its motion are subject to a whole host of contingencies, with-
out which talk of setting wheels in motion, ensuring their continued
motion, bringing that motion to an end, etc. would have no sense,
either. Ramsey's perpetual wheel, on the other hand, is conceived in
complete abstraction from such considerations. It is an idealized object,
made of no material in particular, and not subject to any contingencies
whatsoever. It is, in short, a wheel that must spin, in much the same
way that a given mathematical equation must yield such-and-such a
result. But if the necessities in question are conceptual, then one might
well wonder what an emphatic 'for ever' is supposed to add here. On
the contrary, as Roy Holland rightly notes about the mathematical case:
'If they [2+2] must be four, they must be four, and nothing but mud is
contributed by the "for ever'''P Similarly with Ramsey's perpetual
wheel, which has about as much in common with actual wheels as
Escher's drawing of a never-ending staircase does with actual staircases. 28
It can spin 'for ever', because it is a fictitious mobile with perpetuity as
its essence. But if it must spin of necessity, then the addendum 'for ever'
is not only vacuous but seriously misleading, as it suggests that terms
like 'for ever' and its correlate 'never' can be placed in the category of
temporal adverbs like 'for one year', 'for ten years', etc., and form a
Kant and Kierkegaard on Eternal Life - a Reply 215
contrast with such terms. That this is not so becomes clear when one
realizes that, while requests for grounds and evidence may be in order
with predictive assertions involving temporal adverbs, the matter is
different with Ramsey's statement:
We must ask: can there be grounds for this belief? What are they?
What are the grounds for assuming that it will go on for 1,000 more
years; what for assuming it will go on for 10,000 more years; - and,
now, what are the grounds for the infinite assumption?29
In the sort of case Ramsey is envisaging, 'for ever' and 'never' cannot
be predictive terms designating a time-interval, since the language of jus-
tification and evidence, for one, does not apply to them.30 It might be
objected that Wittgenstein's argument really amounts to an arbitrary,
a priori stipulation concerning the durability of physical objects like
wheels, for even though there may be no evidence for the endless dura-
tion of such an object, there is no evidence against it, either. This would
be to miss the point of Wittgenstein's remark, however, which is not so
much to reject Ramsey's claim as false, but to question its intelligibility
along with its denial. When Wittgenstein redirects our attention from
idealized objects to everyday experience of things in motion, he is ipso
facto reminding us that an intelligible description of such things,
including the existence of human beings, is one in which the idea of
endless duration does not figure. Consequently, when Ramsey imagines
that a man might live 'for ever', he is neither imagining a man, nor a
life, but advancing an intellectual construct. In this connection, Witt-
genstein's remarks on the grammar of temporal adverbs are plain exer-
cises in conceptual recollection and, as such, rather similar to Kant's
parallel discussion, in the Transcendental Aesthetic, of the necessary con-
ditions of all possible experience. The conclusion to be drawn from all
this has been succinctly put by Roy Holland:
Wittgenstein's initial query about what was being imagined. Cv) To con-
strue immortality as endless duration, as a mere extension of this life, is
to diminish the significance of death. For what gives death its sting is
hardly the thought that it is a gateway to carrying on in pretty much
the same way as before, but rather the radical and final break it marks
with life's concerns, while simultaneously fixing its meaning in saecula
saeculorum. This thought may disconcert and disturb, but it also confers
meaning: precisely because death is viewed as an irrevocable caesura,
and immortality as a timeless enunciation of the self who has to face it,
can human activities acquire the deep significance - one that carries
non-trivial resonances of uniqueness and unrepeatability, for instance -
we want to ascribe to them. 32
As Kierkegaard rightly noted, these grammatical differences between
life and death on the one hand, and mortality and immortality on the
other, are greater than certain Christians would like to think:
Men live out their lives in the foolish opinion that the lives we live
here on earth will automatically continue in all eternity, that we will
take the city we live in, everything, everything, straight into eternity.
This is why men who would shudder at the strangeness and the
isolation of emigrating to another continent nevertheless think they
are going to live for eternity. 33
There is a most remarkable saying, I know not where, but one which
bears the inward stamp of being the kind of utterance which, so to
speak, is spoken with the mouth of a whole people. A desperate
sinner wakes up in hell and cries out, 'What time is it?' The devil
answers, 'Eternity'.36
The sinner emerges from this passage as a tragicomic figure who finds
himself in hell because, like Dickinson's traveller, he 'could not stop for
death', i.e. keep the spirit fixed on the eternal and aspire to purity of
heart, when there was still time; now, it is too late for either repentance
Kant and Kierkegaard on Eternal Life - a Reply 217
11
I do not know whether there are spirits; indeed, I do not even know
what the word spirit means. But since, on the other hand, I have often
employed it myself, or heard others use it, something must be under-
stood by it, whether this something be a figment of the imagination
or something real. 43
Kant's pOint is not that the word 'spirit' is utterly obscure, and that
those who employ it in everyday life have no idea of what they mean
by it, but that an exploration of its meaning must involve an examina-
tion of the contexts in which the word is, as a matter of fact, used, lest
one be plunged into the sort of confusion that the philosopher, above
all, should seek to avoid. That it is easy to fall into such confusion,
comes out in Kant's confession that even his own, rather critical
thought gravitates towards ideas that are hard to resist:
So Kant suggests that after death people of good will might continue
to improve in a noumenal realm, which somehow permits change
and development to occur in the absence of worldly time. But on the
other hand, this development must come to an end when moral
perfection is attained, so that 'time' ceases and absolute stability -
stasis - sets in. 50
Thus, when Kant says that God and immortality are postulates of
practical reason, he is not advancing theoretical hypotheses about super-
natural beings or states of affairs, but rejecting an account of religious
belief that pays insufficient attention to the application of religious ideas
in practice. Among other things, such attention reveals that religious
beliefs use pictures, 55 in terms of which the believer structures and evalu-
ates his thoughts and actions, and which, in Kant's terminology, consti-
tute a way of making certain non-empirical concepts 'suitable for
employment in experience,.56 The description of religious beliefs as pic-
tures thus brings together two ideas, both intimately connected: on the
one hand, Kant's insistence that concepts without intuitions are empty;
on the other, the idea that religious beliefs express a perspective on human
life which radically alters its character and generically informs all of an
agent's thinking and conduct. Kant does not use the term 'picture', but
his term 'regulative principle' seems to me to capture the same idea:
Here believing obviously plays much more this role: suppose we said
a certain picture might play the role of constantly admonishing me,
or I always think of it. Here, an enormous difference would be
between those people for whom the picture is constantly in the fore-
ground, and the others who just didn't use it at all. 59
It is our belief that God, if He wants to reach us, must make the longest
journey. When He has taken possession of our hearts and conquered
and transformed them, it will be up to us to make the longest journey
if we, in turn, want to get to Him. Love is proportional to distance. 61
But the picture in question does not merely allude to the need for critical
self-scrutiny, to what is involved in a deep understanding of the divine, and
to the sense of humility this engenders. It also expresses the idea that
and the hope that life will not culminate in complete annihilation, but
attain to the summum bonum, even though sober reflection on the
Kant and Kierkegaard on Eternal Life - a Reply 223
oneself: as part of God's creation, one cannot but feel gratitude for one's
life, even though the character of that gratitude could not be specified
independently of one's necessary imperfection in relation to the holy
ideal. 7S It is in the form of a certain gratitude for life, therefore, that
unconditional self-affirmation can already be available 'in the midst of
striving', and Kant allows for this possibility just as much as Kierkegaard
does. Whittaker might object that the crucial issue still has not been
touched upon, viz. the question of what is involved in embracing the
religious perspective in general, and the belief in immortality, in par-
ticular. While Kant seems to think that the latter is merely an extension
of a moral idea/ 9 Kierkegaard wants to insist that it requires no less
radical a metabasis in allo geno than that which informs the transition
from moral blindness to moral understanding. Now, I agree that the
change of perspectives - from the secular to the religious - involves a
leap that practical reason cannot make, but I don't think that Kant is so
naive as to think that it can. As I understand them, his remarks on the
summum bonum are no more intended to provide a reason for embra-
cing religion, than the Groundwork offers a reason for being moral. The
point of the former is to show how religion can, both theoretically and
practically, remedy the teleological incompleteness of morality, not to
deliver an account of the genesis of religious belief. For that, one needs
to turn to Kant's lectures on education,SO whose final sections deal with
the matter of religious upbringing and afford some pertinent advice
on how to approach it. Here, Kant insists, for example, that religious
ideas should 'take root in the imagination of children' at an early
stage;81 that one should speak to them of God as a father who looks
after us, so that they come to regard all human beings as belonging to
one family; that children must be taught to think of their conscience as
God's vOice;82 that God's name should not be used in vain, but with
awe and reverence, etc. 83 Even though the focus of Kant's pedagogical
lectures is on various aspects of physical, intellectual and moral educa-
tion, they also demonstrate an astute awareness of how believers are
typically initiated into religious language and belief, viz. by being
taught religious pictures in their early childhood, rather than through
exposure to philosophical or theological argument. Believers would, of
course, regard their coming to see the world from a religious point of
view, including the sense of self-affirmation this engenders, as an act
of grace, and respond to it with gratitude. But I do not see why Kant
should have to disagree with this. Grace may enter life in various ways,
and the fact that Kant is primarily concerned with the role of grace in
the pursuit of the good does not show that he wouldn't recognize its
226 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
the New Testament ... repeatedly affirms that each will be rewarded
immediately after death in accordance with his works and faith,88
and
the person who really grasps his immortality or that an eternal life
awaits him will learn quickly enough to flee to grace. 98
Both thinkers are concerned with the rift between the demands of
absolute value on the one hand, and finitude and imperfection, on the
other; or, to put it even more simply, with the question of what is
involved in becoming acceptable to God, no less than to oneself. The
answer, as Kant and Kierkegaard are also agreed, can only be love and
grace. Like love, grace appears in a variety of modes - e.g. as entry into
the world of faith; answer to petitionary prayer; perseverance in the
pursuit of the good; or self-affirmation in Whittaker's sense. It is true
that Kant has more to say about the third than he does about the
others, but this does not mean that he is blind to their significance in
religious life. On the contrary, his point is rather that this significance
could not be grasped independently of a certain conception of the
good, including the struggle for moral betterment. As the head of the
Catholic Church put it:
Jesus tells the young man: 'If you wish to enter into life, keep the
commandments' (Mt 19:17). In this way, a close connection is made
between etemallife and obedience to God's commandments: God's com-
mandments show man the path of life and they lead to it. ( ... ) The
commandments are linked to a promise. ( ... ) This same reality of the
Kingdom is referred to in the expression 'eternal life', which is a par-
tiCipation in the very life of God. It is attained in its perfection only
after death, but in faith it is even now a light of truth, a source of
meaning for life, an inchoate share in the full following of Christ. 99
Notes
1. Emily Dickinson, 'I Could Not Stop for Death', in Oxford Concise Dictionary of
Quotations (Oxford: OUP, 1996), 3rd ed., p. 120.
2. D. Z. Phillips, 'Dislocating the Soul', in Can Religion Be Explained Away?,
ed. D. Z. Phillips (London: Macmillan, 1996), p. 247.
3. As Phillips puts it: 'Eternity is not an extension of this present life, but a
mode of judging it. Eternity is not more life, but this life seen under certain
moral and religious modes of thought. This is precisely what seeing this life
sub specie aeternitatis would amount to', in D. Z. Phillips, Death and Immor-
tality (London: Macmillan, 1970), p. 49.
4. John H. Whittaker, 'Kant and Kierkegaard on Eternal Life', p. 187.
5. J/Jid., p. I RR.
6. ibid., p. 194.
7. Ibid., p. 188.
8. Ibid., p. 194.
Kant and Kierkegaard on Eternal Life - a Reply 231
9. Ibid., p. 195.
10. Ibid., p. 203.
11. Gareth Moore, O. P., 'Death, Value, and Transcendence', in Religion Without
Transcendence?, ed. D. Z. Phillips and Timothy Tessin (London: Macmillan,
1997), p. 150.
12. Whittaker, 'Kant and Kierkegaard', p. 187.
13. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Lectures and Conversations on Aesthetics, Psychology,
& Religious Belief, ed. Cyri! Barrett (Oxford: Blackwell, 1970), p. SS.
14. For an excellent discussion of this, see Peter Winch's 'Wittgenstein: Picture
and Representation', in Tijdschrift voor Filosofie, 49 (1987), pp. 3-20.
15. Ibid., p. 19
16. Plato, Phaedo, trans. G. M. A. Grube (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1977), 113d'-
114e.
17. Ibid., 114c
18. Ibid., 114d
19. Wittgenstein, Lectures and Conversations, p. SS.
20. Phillips, 'Dislocating the Soul', p. 236.
21. John A. Hardon, The Catholic Catechism (New York: Doubleday, 1974),
p.104.
22. Ibid., dto. for the following quotes.
23. 'Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born
I consecrated you.'
24. I am not suggesting here that Hardon's opponents are all non-Catholics,
but rather that even those Catholics who agree with Hardon about the
moral impermissibility of abortion may find his imagery misleading.
25. 'Belief in the resurrection of the dead has been an essential element of the
Christian faith from its beginnings', so Catholics are assured in the Catechism
of the Catholic Church (London: Chapman, 1994), p. 226, not least because
of I Cor 15: 12-14.
26. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Remarks (Oxford: Blackwell, 1990),
pp. 304-5.
27. Cf. Roy Holland's 'For Ever', in Against Empiricism (Totowa, New Jersey:
Barnes & Noble, 1980), p. 191, to whose splendid discussion I am greatly
indebted here.
28. The analogy is Roy Holland's. See 'For Ever', p. 196.
29. Wittgenstein, Philosophical Remarks, p. 310.
30. I am, of course, not denying that there are contexts in which 'for ever' and
'never' are used predictively. On the contrary, there are plenty of examples,
ranging from 'If you buy this top-of-the-line suit, it will last you forever', to
'It never rains in California'. The point is rather that what makes 'for ever'
and 'never' predictive in these cases is that they could be replaced, without
loss of meaning, by 'for a long time' and 'hardly ever', respectively; and that
the latter could be supported by evidence - the superior quality of the
fabric, meteorological considerations, etc. That the proposed substitution
would be less attractive to the addressee has to do with fact that 'for ever'
and 'never' evoke connotJtions of absoluteness, inevitability, solidity, reli-
ability, etc., to which he, as a lover of good suits and sunshine, attaches
great importance.
31. Holland, 'For Ever', p. 189.
232 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
32. By contrast with the Hindu-Buddhist tradition, which involves the idea of
man's progressive purification over the course of several lives, the Jewish-
Christian-Islamic tradition strongly emphasizes the uniqueness of man's life.
This is also why, in the Catholic Church, the Church Fathers and Councils
have been rejecting the doctrine of reincarnation since the second century.
Cf. Hans Kiing, Eternal Life? (London: Collins, 1984), pp. 77, 86.
Whether that doctrine yields an understanding of life and death that is
less deep than a Christian construal, however, is by no means a foregone
conclusion. One would have to take a closer look at the use to which the
doctrine of reincarnation is put in Hindu-Buddhist scripture and practice,
for example, or in the Pythagorean and Platonic traditions.
33. Soren Kierkegaard's Journals and Papers, Vol. 2, ed. and trans. Howard V. Hong
and Edna H. Hong (Bloomington and London: Indiana University Press,
1970), Note 1955, p. 382.
34. 'It is all this milksop chatter, so hearty and animated, regular preacher non-
sense, which always excels, heartily, in watering down all concepts so that
they end up as nothing, yea, almost nauseating! Immortality - this was
once the high goal to which the heroes of the race looked forward, humbly
acknowledging that this reward was so high that it had no relationship to
their most strenuous striving - and now every louse is immortal!', in Kier-
kegaard, Journals, Vol. 2, Note 1953, p. 381.
35. 'The collision is obvious when regarded like this: if a man's life is intended
for the eternal, this tremendous goal, how alienated he must become from
that which binds him in the relationships of finitude', in Kierkegaard, Jour-
nals, Vol. 2, Note 1955, p. 382.
36. Kierkegaard, Journals and Papers, Vol. 1, Note 831, p. 382.
37. Hannah Arendt, Eichmann in Jerusalem: a Report on the Banality of Evil
(New York: Viking Press, 1964), p. 252.
38. Ibid., p. 24.
39. Ibid., p. 252.
40. Cf. Raimond Gaita, Good and Evil (London: Macmillan, 1991), pp. 304-10.
41. 'Who will rise? All the dead will rise, "those who have done good, to the resur-
rection of life, and those who have done evil, to the resurrection of judge-
ment".' Catechism of the Catholic Church (227-8), by reference to In 5: 29.
42. Whittaker, 'Kant and Kierkegaard', pp. 200-4.
43. Immanuel Kant, 'Traume eines Geistersehers', in Kant's Werke, Akademie
Textausgabe, 9 vols. (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1968),2: 320.
44. Ibid., 327.
45. In Contest of the Faculties, written more than thirty years after Dreams of a
Spirit Seer, Kant seems to be a trifle less dogmatic on the question of soul-
substances. But even here he is adamant that, from a practical point of
view, the question whether the continued existence of a soul-substance is
required for the preservation of identity in the afterlife is a pseudo-question
that does not lead anywhere. Cf. Immanuel Kant, Der Streit der Fakultiiten, in
Kant's Werke, Vol. 7 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1968), pp. 1-116; esp. p. 40.
'+6. \,Vhittaher, 'Kant and Kicrhcgaard', pp. 19.+ f.
47. The primary textual reference here is to Kant's discussion of the summum
bonum in Kritik der praktischen Vernun{t, in Kant's Werke, 5: 220, 242 f.
48. Immanuel Kant, Das Ende alIer Dinge, in Kant's Werke, 8: 325-40.
Kant and Kierkegaard on Eternal Life - a Reply 233
49. Cf. Anthony N. Perovich, Jr., "'For Reason ... also has its mysteries": Immor-
tality, Religion, and "The End of All Things''', in P. J. Rossi & M. Wreen
(eds.), Kant's Philosophy of Religion Reconsidered (Bloomington: Indiana Uni-
versity Press, 1991), p. 173.
SO. Whittaker, 'Kant and Kierkegaard', p. 192.
SI. Kant, Ende, 327.
52. Perovich, 'Immortality, Religion', p. 171.
53. Cf. Kant, Kritik der praktischen Vemun{t, p. 243, where he speaks of postu-
lates as '(transcendent) thoughts' [Gedanken].
54. Immanuel Kant, 'Verkundigung des nahen Abschlusses eines Tractats zum
ewigen Frieden in der Philosophie', in Kant's Werke, 8: 418n.
SS. Wittgenstein, Lectures and Conversations, p. 71.
56. Immanuel Kant, 'Was heil1t, sich im Denken orientieren?', in Kant's Werke,
8: 133.
57. Immanuel Kant, Religion Within the Limits of Reason Alone, trans. Theodore
M. Greene and Hoyt H. Hudson (New York: Harper, 1960), p. 65n.
58. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, trans. D. F. Pears and
B. F. McGuinness (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1963), p. 7.
59. Wittgenstein, Lectures and Conversations, p. 56.
60. Kant, Kritik der praktischen Vemun{t, pp. 221-2.
61. Simone Weil, Pensees Sans Ordre Concernant L'Amour de Dieu (Paris: Gallimard,
1962), p. 39.
62. Immanuel Kant, Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals, trans. James W.
Ellington (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1993), p. 395.
63. Cf. Immanuel Kant, Metaphysik der Sitten, in Kant's Werke, 6: 441. Whittaker
rightly ascribes to Kant the view that 'no one can know the inscrutable
ground of the will', and indeed that, 'strictly speaking, one could not even
be sure that one's intentions in the present are pure' (fn. 26). cf. also
Groundwork, pp. 419, 451. But this touches only a part of Kant's concern
with the relation between intention and action, and needs to be reconciled
with his elevation of self-knowledge to 'the first moral duty towards
oneself', on the one hand, and with his qualifying remarks in Religion, on
the other. For in the latter work, Kant equally rejects the idea that an agent
might lack all confidence in his moral disposition; indeed, 'he can gain
such confidence' by, for example, 'comparing the course of his life hitherto
with the resolution which he has adopted', and so obtain 'reasonable
grounds for hope' that his inner disposition has improved. (Cf. Religion,
p. 62.) This suggests that there is a sense, at least, in which self-knowledge is
possible.
64. From R. S. Thomas, 'Apostrophe', in Collected Poems 1945-1990 (London:
Phoenix, 1993), p. 482.
65. Rush Rhees, On Religion and Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1997), p. 267.
66. Kant, Religion, p. 159.
67. Immanuel Kant, Lectures on Ethics, trans. Louis Infield (London: Methuen
&: Co., 1979), p. 96.
68. Ibid., p. 108.
69. Pope John Paul II, Veritatis Splendor (Vatican City: Liberia Editrice Vaticana,
1993), p. 123. It might be said that this is only to be expected, since John
234 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
236
Voices in Discussion 237
N: I grant that these matters are such that we can't be certain. That is
why Kant calls it a hope.
F: But this does not capture Kierkegaard's notion of faith. For him,
the believer abides in hope. It is not a second-best. He abides in God's
promises.
N: But the promise is outside the bounds of what can be known. It is the
hope that enables you to continue.
G: Kant could never assent to action done for the sake of reward, or to
action as any kind of manipulation of grace. But there may be doubt
about the reception of grace. Why should a believer want to be free of
that?
F: But that doubt is not the kind that can be answered in any objective
sense. Religious belief, for Kierkegaard, has to do with subjectivity. You
abide in this truth, so old questions and old answers are left behind. To
abide is to come into his courts with thanksgiving.
A: At this point I want to raise an issue on which F and J do not dis-
agree, namely, the incoherence of the notion of endless duration. I agree
with J that no one would insist on what this involves in detail, because
it is beyond anything I can imagine right now. By the way, the notion
of a soul-substance is a red herring in this connection. You do not need
to entertain such a notion to believe in endless duration after death.
As far as I can see, two reasons are advanced against believing that
eternal life entails belief in endless duration after death. First, it is said
that to believe this is religiously inadequate and superficial. In that case,
I plead guilty to superficiality. Second, we are told that we can't con-
ceive of endless duration. Since I can conceive of it perfectly well I obvi-
ously have difficulty in figuring out what this argument comes to.
J: I did not say that no one believes in endless duration, but it is hard to
see what you can do with the notion if you think of it as referring to a
state of affairs. I was suggesting that in Kant it is more useful to see this
talk as referring to a regulative idea or a compelling picture to live by.
A: But one will only think one has to go in that direction if one is in the
grip of verificationism. Then I am only allowed to conceive of that
which I can verify.
C: No, it is not a question of verficationism, but of wanting to retain the
logic of a notion in the absence of the surroundings which give it sense.
With matters of duration it makes sense to raise questions about com-
ing to be and passing away, about the length or time of that which has
duration, and so on. But if you describe duration as 'endless' you have
robbed yourself of the conceptual surroundings in which talk of dura-
tion has its sense in the first place. This is not verficationism. On the
240 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
At first sight the scope of this conference's sixth and final topic seems
clear enough: it calls for an examination of major developments in the
philosophy of religion during the 1S0-200 years since Kant and Kier-
kegaard. Two ambiguities, however, must be clarified before the topic's
scope can be properly determined. The first ambiguity concerns the role
of the word 'after' in the title. For this little word conveys an interesting
dual meaning: 'after' can mean either 'along the lines of' (as in 'Kant
takes after his mother') or 'subsequent to' (as in 'Kierkegaard was born
after Kant died'). For reasons that will become apparent as we proceed,
I shall take the word to have both meanings, dealing specifically with
the implications of the former in section 2 and with those of the latter
in section 3.
The title's second ambiguity concerns the meaning of the still smaller
word 'and'. In order to determine how best to interpret this word, let us
distinguish between four logically possible combinations of influence,
where the first 'K' refers to Kantian ideas and the second 'K' to Kierke-
gaardian ideas, while a '0' in place of either 'K' refers to ideas that are
not found in the writings of that philosopher:
The 'and' in the title of this essay could be taken to include any or all of
these categories, depending on how 'after' is interpreted. In order to
245
246 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
limit its scope, I shall therefore interpret' and' more strictly, as referring
only to the 'KK' category. In other words, this essay will focus on identi-
fying some common ground in the philosophies of religion developed by
Kant and Kierkegaard (though without ignoring their differences). We
shall then sample the ideas of two philosophers who, while living during
the 140 years after KK (Le. subsequent to 1855),1 have developed that
common ground after (Le. along the lines of) KK.
Before attempting to identify the 'common ground' shared by Kant
and Kierkegaard, let us take a step back and contrast them with another
important pair of philosophers who in some respects parallel the rela-
tionship between Kant and Kierkegaard. One of the chief alternatives to
our topic as a way of surveying the early roots of contemporary philo-
sophy of religion would be to sketch a 'Philosophy of Religion after
Hume and Hegel'. Just as Kant developed certain key aspects of his
philosophy in response to Hume's overly sceptical empiricism, Kier-
kegaard developed certain key aspects of his philosophy in response to
Hegel's overly logical historicism. Indeed, these four thinkers - Hume
and Kant, Hegel and Kierkegaard - form a neat quaternity of basic per-
spectives that can serve as a useful starting-point for sketching sub-
sequent trends. In terms of Kant's well-known analytic-synthetic and
a priori-a posteriori distinctions, we can suggest the following (admittedly
over-simplified) set of correlations: Hume focused his attention on the
synthetic a posteriori perspective, with a secondary emphasis on the ana-
lytic a priori;2 Hegel, by contrast, focused on the latter (logical) perspect-
ive, with a secondary emphasis on the former (empirical/historical)
perspective; Kant focused his attention on the synthetic a priori perspect-
ive, with a secondary emphasis on what (as we shall see) can be called
the analytic a posteriori; Kierkegaard, by contrast, focused his attention on
the latter (hypothetical/faith) perspective, with a secondary emphasis
on the former (transcendental) perspective. 3
These tendencies can be pictured graphically (with each arrow point-
ing from a philosopher's primary focus to his secondary focus) as
shown below (see p. 247).
Whereas Hume and Hegel represent two very different types of empirical-
logical thinking, Kant and Kierkegaard, writing largely in response to these
two, represent two very different types of transcendental-hypothetical
thinking. Transcendental-hypothetical thinking in general is, as we
shall SCE', the prime characteristic of the 'KK' interpretation of 'and'. In
the following section, we shall therefore examine in detail how the (in
many ways opposite) philosophical methods adopted by Kant and Kier-
kegaard actually complement each other to produce a single tradition in
Philosophy of Religion after Kant and Kierkegaard 247
hypothetical/faith
(analytic a posteriori)
empirical transcendental
(synthetic a posteriori) (synthetic a priori)
logical
(analytic a priori)
The claim that Kanfs Critical philosophy is rooted in a concern for estab-
lishing various types of synthetic a priori conditions is not open to serious
doubt. For the 'transcendental reflection' that is the hallmark of Critical
philosophy is designed to establish a type of knowledge that is synthetic
(Le. factual, informative, appealing to intuition) even though it is estab-
lished entirely a priori (Le. without requiring reference to any particular
experiences). The primary goal of Kant's three Critiques is to determine
the transcendental conditions for the possibility of empirical knowledge,
moral action and 'contemplative' (aesthetic/teleological) judgement,4
respectively. Space, time and the categories are to the first Critique what
freedom and the moral law are to the second: the necessary and universal
boundaries within which all meaningful epistemological/moral discourse
must fall. In the third Critique purposiveness plays a similar boundary-
setting role in relation to our experiences of beauty and natural organisms.
Kant's approach to religion has often been set apart from the tran-
scel1ckntal rnaimtredl1l of his Critical system and interpreted as a mere
'appendix to Ethics'.s In opposition to this trend, some recent scholars
portray Kant's Religion within the Bounds of Bare Reason6 as an extension
of the third Critique, sharing both its Critical aim and its judicial!
248 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
third Critiques. Only in RBBR (and to some extent in the third Critique),
therefore, should we expect to find testimonies of the analytic a posteri-
ori that come close to matching the power and depth of Kierkegaard's
expositions of the religious stage of life.
Limitations of space preclude us from dwelling on such examples, but
it is worth noting that Kierkegaard's writings are packed with interpre-
tations of religious concepts and actions that can best be classified in
analytic a posteriori terms. From his early philosophical analyses of sin,
angst, and the 'leap of faith', where a psychological approach overshad-
ows its transcendental ground, to his later writings on more explicitly
Christian themes, Kierkegaard always tends to focus on those aspects of
human life wherein we allow our idea(s) of the infinite to shape our his-
torically bound experiences of the finite. My argument has been that all
such aspects can best be classified in terms of the paradoxical epistemo-
logical category of the analytic a posteriori. One final example should
help to clarify this claim.
That Kierkegaard's book on love contains the word 'Works' in its title is
no accident. A 'work' of love, in this context, is more than just some
external activity we perform; it is a very special, internal kind of 'doing'
that molds and predetermines our external behaviour. Ordinary types of
love manifest themselves as mere responses to external stimuli; but a
work of love (as the Christian notion of agape always implies) must be
proactive. In order for (true Christian) love to be love, we must purpose-
fully impose it on to our experiences as an inward principle of interpreta-
tion. This is why giving love cannot be contingent on the lover's
response: as Phillips puts it, 'to abide in love is love's own reward'. IS Such
a deliberate, unconditional choice is not epistemologically equivalent to
judging (synthetic a posteriori) that 'this paper is white' or (analytic a priori)
that 'white is a colour', nor can it even be identified with (synthetic a pri-
ori) judgements such as 'every event has a cause'. Love, with all its para-
doxes, deserves its own special status. What could be more appropriate
than the equally enigmatic status of the analytic a posteriori? Had Kierke-
gaard himself seen fit to introduce such a classification at this (and many
other) point(s) in his writings, I believe the nature of his contribution to
the philosophy of religion would have been significantly clarified.
what we can expect to 'arise out of' KK, now that the 'heat' of history
has been applied for over 140 years.
Philosophy of religion in the twentieth century has been character-
ized, perhaps more than anything else, by a deep concern for under-
standing the belief-structures of religious people. The renewed interest
we have seen in discussing theoretical proofs for the existence of God,
after a century when Kant's criticisms of these proofs were widely regarded
as having laid them to rest once and for all, is but one manifestation of
this trend. A new scholasticism has developed in many circles, whereby
religion and religious issues are discussed at a level of such abstraction
from real religious beliefs as to render them virtually meaningless to the
average layperson. Ironically, the very thing that endows religion with its
great power in human life - namely, the beliefs it engenders - is often ren-
dered impotent by well-meaning philosophers trying to understand it
through logical analysis of its constituent parts. The danger here is that,
by failing to reflect the potentially immense power of the philosophy of
religion - a power that can still be felt by readers of many religious writ-
ings in the KK tradition - contemporary philosophy could end up doing
more harm than good to the religious spirit of humanity.
Recognizing that the power of religious belief is an expression of its
fundamentally analytic a posteriori status can put us well on the way
towards solving this problem. Just as this classification has enabled us
more fully to appreciate the legacy passed on to us by Kant and Kierke-
gaard, so also can it elucidate and empower numerous other topics of
interest to philosophers of religion. 33 The emphasis philosophers have
placed in this century on aspects of religion ranging from the anthropo-
logical (e.g. myth as a form of thinking that is inevitably present in all
human cultures) to the epistemological (e.g. 'justified true belief' as a
purported definition of the nature of knowledge) can all benefit from a
careful reinterpretation in analytic a posteriori terms. One result of such
an intentional application of the KK understanding of religious belief
will be the raising of 'contemplative' issues to a level of import that sur-
passes that of both theoretical and practical issues. This is because from
the theoretical standpoint the analytic a posteriori can give us nothing
but dry hypotheses that we can at best treat 'as if' they are true, while
the practical standpoint can do no more than prompt us to regard our
hypotheses as having a moral reality; only by contemplating our reli-
gious and quasi-religious experiences does the intuitive power of belief
come fully into view. 3-1
An advantage of this approach to future philosophy of religion is that
it will enable us to account for the power religion exercises in human
258 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
Notes
1. The decision to limit the scope of this discussion to KK enables us to begin
with Kierkegaard's death in 1855, thus avoiding numerous difficult issues
relating to the development of philosophy of religion between Kant and Kier-
kegaard. For instance, the question of whether Hegel or Schopenhauer repres-
ents a more authentically Kantian tradition can be sidestepped, along with
issues relating to Kant's influence on philosophers and theologians in the
Romantic tradition, such as Schleiermacher.
2. These are the two criteria of knowledge commonly referred to as 'Hume's
Fork': matters of fact are synthetic a posteriori, while matters of reason are ana-
lytic a priori. See, for example, An Inquiry Concerning Human Understanding,
ed. C. W. Hendel (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1955), p. 173.
3. I have explained the relationship between these four epistemological classifi-
cations and the 'perspectives' they define in 'Knowledge and Experience - An
Examination of the Four Reflective "Perspectives" in Kant's Critical Philo-
sophy', Kant-Studien, 78: 2 (1987), pp. 170-200 - hereafter KE - and in
'A Priori Knowledge in Perspective: (I1) Naming, Necessity and the Analytic
a Posteriori', The Review of Metaphysics, 41: 2 (December 1987), pp. 255-82-
hereafter NNAAP. (A revised version of the former essay was subsequently
included as Chapter IV in Kant's System of Perspectives [Lanham: University Press
of America, 19931 - hereafter KSP.) Kant himself almost entirely ignores the
'analytic cl pmtcriori' as a meaningful epistemological classification (but see
note 11, below); in these essays, however, I have argued that this expression is
nevertheless a highly appropriate way of representing Kant's hypothetical per-
spective, as well as various other (usually paradoxical) types of philosophical
Philosophy of Religion after Kant and Kierkegaard 259
11. Numerous of Kant's statements imply such a view. One of the most decisive
comes in B11, where he states (trans. Kemp Smith, Immanuel Kant's Critique
of Pure Reason [London: Macmillan, 1929]): 'Judgments of experience, as
such, are one and all synthetic. For it would be absurd to found an analytic
judgment on experience.' In one tantalizing passage, however, Kant does
utilize the epistemological classification in question. In the course of
explaining the three factors that determine the value of (rather significantly)
a hypothesis (BllS), he says: 'the criterion of an hypothesis consists ...
[thirdly,] in the completeness of the ground of explanation of these con-
sequences, which carry us back to ... the hypothesis, and so in an a posteriori
analytic manner give us back and accord with what has previously been
thought in a synthetic a priori manner.' Unfortunately, this sentence comes
just before the end of a chapter, and the reader is left wondering what (if
any) role the analytic a posteriori can play in Kant's epistemology.
12. See Book Two, Part Two, Chapter II of CUP, and passim.
13. See Faith and Philosophical Enquiry (New York: Schocken Books, 1970),
pp. 204-21- hereafter FPE. PhilIips pOints out in FPE, p. 211 that for Kierke-
gaard 'subjectivity' does not mean 'there are no criteria of truth and falsity'.
14. Phillips explains in FPE, p. 213 that 'Kierkegaard is well aware that the
world-historical perspective keeps breaking in on the subjective which the
Christian struggles to attain.' Later (p. 214), he again emphasizes their
perspectival relationship: 'all the barriers belong to the sphere of the world-
historical, while worship belongs to the sphere of subjectivity'; the differ-
ence 'is not a matter of degree, but of kind'.
15. As Kierkegaard puts it in CUP, p. 146: 'The task of becoming subjective ...
may be presumed to be the highest task, and one that is proposed to every
human being' (David F. Swenson and WaIter Lowrie translation [Princeton:
Prince ton University Press, 1941]).
16. See, for example, Ronald M. Green, 'The Leap of Faith: Kierkegaard's Debt
to Kant', Philosophy & Theology, 3: 4 (1989), pp. 385-411. Green argues persua-
sively that, despite common assumptions to the contrary, 'Kierkegaard ...
was actually steeped in Kantian philosophy' (pp. 385-6), and 'was perhaps
Kant's best nineteenth-century reader and the genuine heir to Kant's mature
thinking about ethics and religion'.
17. See, for example, CUP, pp. 178-80, 187-8. In discussing this issue (see for
example, Systematic Theology, Vo!. 1 [Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
19Sn pp. 204-8), TilIich goes so far as to say: 'God does not exist.' But he
immediately clarifies (p. 205) that by this he means: 'He is being-itself
beyond essence and existence.'
18. FPE, p. 216. PhilIips expresses a similar point in his discussion of the reli-
gious maxim that we should give thanks for all things: we do not thank
God as a response to things going well; we are to thank God no matter what
(p. 219). Phillips explains that 'the ability to thank God, to love Him, is
only given when man has died to the objective world-historical view of
things'. True thankfulness, like love, requires us to adopt the subjective
(analytic a po_'tcriori) standpoint of inwardness.
19. For further discussion of the insights of Otto and Tillich (alongside those of
Kant and Kierkegaard), see Part Four of my book, The Tree of Philosophy
(Hong Kong: Philopsychy Press, 3rd edn, 1995) - hereafter TP. Davidovich
Philosophy of Religion after Kant and Kierkegaard 261
selects these same two scholars to exhibit Kant's influence on modern theo-
logy and philosophy of religion (see RPM, pp. 149-303). For this reason I shall
make significant use of her often helpful interpretations in this section.
However, I am treating these scholars as exemplifying two different respon-
ses to the KK tradition, whereas she focuses on their common extension of
the 'contemplative' view of religion suggested in Kant's third Critique.
20. Trans. John W. Harvey (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1950) - hereafter 1H.
21. Trans. E. B. Dicker (London: Williams & Norgate Ltd, 1931) - hereafter
PRKF. Otto particularly emphasizes the importance of the third Critique (see
pp. 17-24) and of Fries' qualified dependence on Kant (pp. 105-6).
22. See IH, pp. 50-9, 112-16, 136-42; cf. PRKF, pp. 91-102 and RPM, pp. 152-3.
As Davidovich points out (RPM, p. 154; see also p. 160), Otto was careful 'to
stress that ... numinous consciousness remains strictly within the limits of
a critical philosophy'.
23. Similarly, Davidovich repeatedly stresses Tillich's efforts to depict religiosity
as permeating all the sdences (e.g., natural, moral, aesthetic); unfortunately,
she never clearly acknowledges Kant's own profound recognition of the
same point (see e.g., RPM, p. 230). In KCR I have argued that RBBR can be
interpreted as establishing a synthetic a priori boundary defining the neces-
sary conditions for religion. But this boundary does not set up a distinct
'religious a priori' that transcends the limits of the three Critiques, as Otto's
seems at certain points to do. Rather, religious concepts manifestthemselves
within each autonomous realm (Le. within what I call [in KSP] the 'fourth
stage' of the argument in each Critique) as ideas, postulates and contemplat-
ive judgements.
24. RPM, p. 187. Otto expresses such sentiments throughout IH; but see espe-
dally pp. 50-9.
25. That Kant regards beauty as symbolizing the morally good in the third Crit-
ique is well known - though not often appreciated. However, his awareness
of the nature and function of religious symbolism is rarely acknowledged.
The word 'symbol' and its derivatives occur 14 times in RBBR, and numer-
ous times in the third Critique. In these passages he speaks of symbols as
conveying the true 'intellectual [Le., moral/practical] meaning' of a belief,
ritual, or object; they make the unknowable 'comprehensible' to us (p. 159)
and thereby give expression 'to the whole of pure moral religion' (pp. 132-3).
26. See, for example, Tillich's book, The Courage to Be. Interestingly, Davidovich
entirely ignores these obviously Kierkegaardian aspects of TilIich's philo-
sophy in her (only partially successful) attempt in RPM to portray Tillich as
thoroughly Kantian.
27. RPM, p. 232. Davidovich focuses mainly on TiIlich's book, The System of
the Sciences, in seeking to portray his 'theory of religion as a theonomous
consdousness [wherein] we can find an extension of Kant's contemplative
conception of religion' (RPM, p. 228).
28. Paul Tillich, Theology of Culture, ed. Robert Kimball (New York: Oxford Uni-
versity Press, 1964), p. 7. See also RPM, pp. 225, 282. For a discussion of
TilJich's application of the concept of theonomy to political theology, see
my book, Biblical Theocracy (Hong Kong: Philopsychy Press, 1993), pp. 59-65.
29. Davidovich describes this as 'an awareness of the unconditioned [hence, non-
intUitive, analytic] ground of our cultural [hence a posteriori] constructions'
262 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
(RPM, p. 278). She further hints at the analytic a posteriori status of religious
(theonomous) experience when she points out (p. 234) that for Tillich (as
for Kant!) a need of reason 'is satisfied ... in a reflective evaluation of the
relation between the [analytic] constructs of thought and our [a posterior~
intuitive experience'.
30. Dynamics of Faith (New York: Harper & Row, 1957), p. 45 - hereafter DF.
31. Though not usually regarded as a phenomenologist, William James is included
here because of his numerous philosophical insights into the psychology of
religion (especially in his Varieties of Religious Experience).
32. For instance, the Wittgenstein of the Tractatus adopts an approach that has
close affinities with certain aspects of both Hume and Kant, but hardly a
trace of influence from Hegel or Kierkegaard; the Wittgenstein of Investiga-
tions, by contrast, seems to filter Hume more through a Kierkegaardian way
of thinking than through Kant. In neither case is a clear 'Kant and Kierke-
gaard' influence evident. In her own prognosis for the future of philosophy
of religion, Davidovich also contrasts the 'contemporary Wittgensteinian
and empiricist accounts of religion' with those of more Kantian philoso-
phers (RPM, p. 308), viewing the tendency of the 'Kantian school' to identify
'religious consciousness with a reflective awareness' that 'reunit[es] cogni-
tion and affectivity' (p. 306) as more promising than the tendency of the
former school to focus 'exclusively on either religious affectivity or religious
knowledge'.
33. In so doing the old divisions between analytic and existential schools of
philosophy will fall away once and for all. Indeed, philosophers with an
awareness of analytic a posteriori issues (by whatever name they may be
called) tend to view such old divisions as complementary opposites that are
already in the process of merging.
34. RPM, p. 283 mentions the superiority of contemplation over any merely 'as
if' approach to issues in the philosophy of religion. Recognizing the role of
the analytiC a posteriori in both these approaches (the theoretical and the
contemplative) confirms Davidovich's point while saving the role of theor-
etical hypotheses from being merely superfluous non-essentials.
12
Kant's Divine Command Theory
and its Reception within Analytic
Philosophy
John E. Hare
The purpose of this paper is to look at how Kant's views about the auto-
nomy of the moral life fit with his less well-known claim that we should
see our duties as God's commands, and to examine how this complex of
views has been received in the analytic tradition of moral philosophy in
this century.l My claim will be that Kant has usually been interpreted in
this tradition as showing in the Groundwork that a divine command the-
ory of ethics is heteronomous. Here, to give just one prominent example,
is R. M. Hare's verdict: 'Ever since Kant,' (and it is the Groundwork he is
thinking of) 'it has been possible for people to insist on the autonomy of
morals - its independence of human or divine authority. Indeed, it has
been necessary, if they were to think morally, in the sense in which that
word is now generally understood.'z I want to dispute this interpreta-
tion of Kant's argument and to attribute to him an alternative which
I think is largely defensible. This will take most of the paper. But I also
want to advance some speculations briefly at the end about why Kant
has been misunderstood on this matter by philosophers in the analytiC
tradition, and then to mention a sustained minority opinion within
this tradition.
First, a historical claim. Kant needs to be understood (and has not
usually been understood) against the background of the discussion of
divine command theory in the Pietist circles he was familiar with. I think
the views of Christian August Crusius are especially important here, as
Paton already remarked. 3 Crusius was highly influential in Konigsberg
at the time Kant was writing the Groulldwork. He proposed that wc should
collect our duties under this rule, 'Do what is in accordance with the
perfection of God and your relations to him and further what accords
263
264 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
with the essential perfection of human nature, and omit the opposite'
(GRL, 137). He held that moral goodness consists in the conformity or
coincidence of the human will with God's will or divine law. On this,
I shall urge, Kant was not in disagreement. But Crusius also held that
divine law is known through conscience, which is an immediate power
of moral judgement founded on a sort of common sense called 'moral
taste'. This is a basic human drive, 'to recognize a divine moral law, that
is, to believe a rule for human action in which it is determined what
God wants done or not done out of obedience because of our depend-
ence and otherwise will punish us' (GRL, 132). Moreover, Crusius took
the extreme position on the authority of Scripture that no rational criti-
cism of the Bible was permitted, and that its meaning could be penet-
rated only by a kind of empathy or inner light.
Since Kant's argument in the Groundwork is brief, I will quote it in
full. He first distinguishes the empirical and rational principles of het-
eronomy, and then within the latter class distinguishes the ontological
and the theological concepts of perfection. He rejects both but prefers
the former: 'This concept (the ontological concept of perfection) none
the less is better than the theological concept which derives morality
from a divine and supremely perfect will; not merely because we cannot
intuit God's perfection and can only derive it from our own concepts,
among which that of morality is the most eminent; but because, if we
do not do this (and to do so would be to give a crudely circular explana-
tion), the concept of God's will still remaining to us - one drawn from
such characteristics as lust for glory and domination and bound up
with frightful ideas of power and vengefulness - would inevitably form
the basis for a moral system which would be in direct opposition to
morality.,4
There is a reading of this argument in twentieth-century analytic
philosophy which takes it as a refutation of the divine command theory
of ethical obligation. I will not try here to say what I mean by 'a divine
command theory of ethical obligation' other than to say that this kind
of theory holds that our ethical obligations arise out of divine com-
mands. 5 There are many forms of the theory, depending on what 'arise
out of' is taken to mean, and it is a different project to distinguish
between these. I have already quoted R. M. Hare. He takes the theory
Kant is rejecting to be the theory that morals are dependent on divine
authority.6 Similarly, Lewis White Beck takes Kant to be arguing against
the view that duties owe their authority to being divine commands.
After conceding that Kant talks as ifhe were a divine command theorist,
Beck says on Kant's behalf, 'It is not that (duties) are divine commands,
Kant's Divine Command Theory and Analytic Philosophy 265
or that they owe their authority over us to their being decrees of a divine
lawgiver who also created us; for in that event, we should have to know
about God before we could know what our duty is, and we do not know
God, while even the most unphilosophical person knows his duty. More-
over, such a theory would be incompatible with moral self-government,
or autonomy. Religion is not the basis for morality, but rather the con-
trary; religion is a rational attitude based upon morality.,7 I will return
to this reading of Beck's at the end of this paper.
If one reads Kant's argument as an attack on divine command theory,
it will naturally be construed as presenting the following dilemma. We
have two choices on the divine command theory: either we derive the
notion of God's perfection from our moral concepts or we do not. If we
do (the first horn), then the derivation which the divine command the-
ory proposes is crudely circular (and therefore to be dismissed). If we do
not (the second horn), given the notion of God's will remaining to us,
the derivation which divine command theory proposes makes morality
self-contradictory (and therefore the derivation has to be dismissed). So
neither choice is available to us, and so the divine command theory
should be rejected. The reasoning on the second horn goes something
like this. Morality, on Kant's account, is based on reason alone, not self-
interest. But if we say that we have a moral obligation to do something
because it is God's will that we do it, and we separate our notion of
God's will from the moral concepts, then the explanation of our obliga-
tion will depend merely on our ability to please him and his ability (if
we do not) to hurt us. The relationship between us, when stripped of
right, will reduce to one of power. But then morality will be based on
self-interest, and will not be what (on Kant's view) morality in fact is.
There are problems in working out this reasoning on the second
horn, and Kant's argument needs attention here even on the interpreta-
tion of it I shall offer shortly.8 But I am concerned with the more basic
pOint that Kant cannot, if he is consistent, argue against the divine
command theory in general because he accepts a form of the theory. He
accepts the view throughout his life that we should think of our obliga-
tions as God's commands. For example, he says in Lectures on Ethics,
'Our bearing towards God must be characterized by reverence, love and
fear - reverence for Him as a holy lawgiver, love for His beneficent rule,
and fear of Him as a just judge' (which is different, Kant says, from
merely being afraid of God when we have transgressed). 'We show our
reverence by regarding His law as holy and righteous, by due respect for
it, and by seeking to fulfil it in our disposition.'9 There is a divine com-
mand theory in the Groundwork impliCit in the notion of God as the
266 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
head of the kingdom of ends. Kant says, 'A rational being belongs to the
kingdom of ends as a member, when, although he makes its universal
laws, he is also himself subject to these laws. He belongs to it as its head,
when as the maker of laws he is himself subject to the will of no other.'
Kant goes on to say that a rational being can maintain the position of
head of the kingdom, 'not in virtue of the maxim of his will alone, but
only if he is a completely independent being, without needs and with
an unlimited power adequate to his will'. There is no doubt that Kant is
talking here about God, and I will present later an account of why the
function of a king of the kingdom of ends is important to Kant's theory.
In the second Critique he says (about the kind of religion he endorses),
'Religion is the recognition of all duties as divine commands. dO He
repeats this view with greater elaboration at the opening of Book 4, Part
1 of Religion Within the Limits of Reason Alone. ll Because this is a sustained
theme in Kant, we are better off regarding his attack in the Groundwork
as directed not at the divine command theory in general, but at some
specific form of it. The form Crusius gives us is an excellent candidate.
Kant is objecting to the view that duties are derived from divine com-
mand in the sense that divine command has to give them their content.
He is not objecting to the claim that we should see our duties as depend-
ing on their being divine commands for their authority.
Kant objects to Crusius' form of the theory on three grounds. He
starts the argument by saying that we cannot intuit God's perfection.
This starting point makes sense if it is Crusius he has in mind. Crusius
had proposed that we collect our duties under the rule to do what is in
accordance with God's perfection (and human perfection), and had
then proposed that we have access to divine perfection through 'the
drive of conscience' (GRL, 132). Kant's position is, rather, that we cannot
intuit God's perfection, because of the limits of human (non-intellectual)
intuition. This is his first objection. Our access is, therefore, through
concepts. Either these will be the moral concepts, or some other.
Suppose we take the first option, and reply that we can know what
God wills, since he wills what the moral law prescribes. Here is the
second objection. This would be, Kant says, crudely circular. He may be
objecting to just such a crude circle in Crusius in the passage I quoted. 12
Crusius adds in the word 'moral' at a key point in his argument without
justification: 'Finally, the third of the basic human drives is the natural
drive to recognize a divine mnrallaw' (GRL, 132, emphasis added).
An instructive comparison is his fear in the third section of Ground-
work that he may have argued in a circle about morality and freedom.
(GI, 450) What is instructive about this for present purposes is that Kant
Kant's Divine Command Theory and Analytic Philosophy 267
taxes because it is the law ... In so far as you are a citizen, you do act
autonomously in obeying the law. And for exactly that reason, in so far
as you are a citizen, you aren't free to act on your own private reasons
any more.' To extend this analysis to the context of divine command
theory, we could say that an agent acts autonomously out of her prac-
tical identity as a religious person only if she acts out of obedience to
God. In none of these three cases (the student, the citizen and the reli-
gious person) is there any inconsistency with the agent sharing the
ends of the person or persons with authority. Indeed in all three cases,
this is the best situation. Moreover, sometimes the agent can and should
initiate the content of a maxim in accordance with her end. But her
having the end herself is not the whole story about the source of the
normativity of the maxim.
I think this is the context Kant has in mind in referring in the Ground-
work to the head of the kingdom of ends, who is not subject to the will
of any other member; this head of the kingdom makes possible the real-
ization of the kingdom of ends, for example by rewarding virtue and
punishing vice, and this gives authority to our obligation to obey him.
As Kant says, 'the author of the obligation in accordance with the law
(is) not always the author of the law' (MM, 227). An ordinary member
of the kingdom of ends may initiate the proposal of a maxim for action,
but for it to have authority over her it has to be seen as the command
of the king of this kingdom. In the case of Frederick, the third term
which makes sense of our obligation to obedience is our joint but non-
symmetrical membership in a political entity which requires for its
operation both his legitimate prescriptions and the citizen's obligated res-
ponse. In the case of God, the third term is our jOint but non-symmetrical
membership in a moral community, the kingdom of ends.
It is worth spelling out why the kingdom of ends has to be a king-
dom and not, for example, a democracy.18 In the political realm, the
sovereignty properly belongs with the people, Kant believes, but this
does not obviate the need for a political ruler to administer the state
which makes the external exercise of freedom possible. 'Ought' implies
'can'. We ought to behave in a way that outwardly respects each other's
freedom. But we can only do this if a system is in place in which we can
expect that our own freedom will be respected symmetrically. In the
moral realm there is the same kind of difficulty about 'ought' and 'can',
but it takes us inside the will. We ought to share each other's ends as far
as the moral law allows. This is the content Kant gives to 'treating
humanity, whether in your own person or in the person of another,
always at the same time as an end and never simply as a means' (GI, 429).
Kant's Divine Command Theory and Analytic Philosophy 271
Notes
1. I want to thank my colleagues at Calvin College for a discussion of an earlier
draft which greatly improved the final version of this paper.
2. R. M. Hare in 'The Simple Believer', reprinted in Essays on Religion and Educa-
tion (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992), p. 30. See also Sorting Out Ethics (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1997), p. 27. This argument in the Groundwork has had the
same kind of status in ethics as the treatment of the ontological argument in
the first Critique has had in metaphysics.
3. Immanuel Kant, Groundwork of the Metaphysic of Morals, trans. and analysed
by H.J. Paton (New York: Harper, 1964), p. 141. For Crusius' views, see the selec-
tion from 'Guide to Rational Living', in Moral Philosophy from Montaigne to
Kant, Vo!. Il, ed. ]. B. Schneewind (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1990), pp. 568-85 (henceforth GRL). See also Giorgio Tonelli, 'La question
des bornes de l'entendement humain au XVIIle siecle', Revue de metaphysique
et de morale (1959), pp. 396-427. In the second Critique (KpV, 40), Kant men-
tions Crusius as the source of the view which locates the practical material
determining ground of morality extemally in the will of God.
Kant's Divine Command Theory and Analytic Philosophy 275
4. Gl, 443. The references in this paper are all to the Berlin Academy edition,
except for those to the first Critique and to the Lectures on Ethics.
5. One statement of necessary conditions for a divine command theory is
given by Philip Quinn, in Divine Commands and Moral Requirements (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1978), p. 27.
6. Other examples of the kind of interpretation I am objecting to are A. C. Ewing,
Value and Reality (London: Alien and Unwin, 1973), pp. 183-7, and James
Rachels, 'God and Human Attitudes', reprinted in Divine Commands and
Morality, ed. Paul Helm (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981), pp. 34-48,
especially pp. 44f. One vivid example is Iris Murdoch, The Sovereignty of Good
(New York: Schocken Books, 1971), p. 80: 'Kant's man had already nearly a
century earlier received a glorious incarnation in the work of Milton: his
proper name is Lucifer.' The argument itself, without explicit attachment to
Kant, is pervasive. One nice statement of it is in P. H. Nowell-Smith's Ethics
(Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1954), pp. 192-3.
7. Lewis White Beck, Six Secular Philosophers (New York: Harper, 1960), p. 72.
But it is not in general true for Kant that a prescription has authority only if
we know about its source. As I shall argue, Kant thinks that the prescrip-
tions of a legitimate political ruler have authority and have their source in
his will; but we do not have knowledge about this will.
8. What needs to be attended to is the different ways in which we can separate
God's will from the moral concepts. On God's side we can distinguish the
claim that his will is inconsistent with what is morally right from the claim
that his willing, though conSistent, does not entertain the moral concepts.
On our side we can distinguish the claim that we have to obey even if his
will is inconsistent with what is morally right from the claim that we must
obey even in cases where we cannot determine whether his will is consist-
ent with what is morally right.
9. Kant, Lectures on Ethics, trans. Louis Infield (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1963),
p.97.
10. KpV, 130. I will return later to this quotation in its context.
11. I have given a detailed account of this passage in The Moral Gap (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1996), pp. 41-5.
12. See Lewis White Beck, A Commentary on Kant's Critique of Practical Reason
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1960), p. 107, 'Either Crusius surrepti-
tiously introduces ethical predicates into the concept of divine perfection'
(and Beck refers to this passage of Crusius), 'with the result that theological
perfection no longer grounds the moral principle but presupposes it; or a
hedonistic motivation is postulated as the ground of obedience to God'.
13. See Robert M. Adams, 'Autonomy and Theological Ethics', in The Virtue of
Faith (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987), pp. 123-7. Adams approves
of Tillich's notion of theonomous ethics: 'The theonomous agent acts mor-
ally because he loves God, but also because he loves what God loves.' Kant
on my reading, but not Crusius, has a theonomous ethics. I will return to
Adams at the end of this paper. Crusius himself would not be worried by
this objection. See Tonelli, op. cit., p. 410 (my translation): 'Crusius under-
lines the importance of mysteries of reason, mainly theological doctrines
which have to be admitted, even though we do not understand how certain
things can be joined together or separated in such a way.'
276 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
1991), pp. 1-21, especially p. 14. See also the phrase in E. Troeltsch, 'utter-
ances of prudence', quoted in Michel Despland, Kant on History and Religion
(Montreal: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1973), p. 105, and the phrase
'cover' techniques in Yirmiahu Yovel, Kant and the Philosophy of History
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980), pp. 114 and 215.
24. For example, Conflict of the Faculties, p. 10, and KrV, A748-50 = B776-8.
25. Beck, op. cit., p. 74 (emphasis added). See also R. M. Hare, Sorting Out Ethics,
p. 27, 'God, whom Kant would have liked to believe in'.
26. In addition to the article by Adams already referred to, there are two papers,
'A Modified Divine Command Theory of Ethical Wrongness' and 'Divine
Command Metaethics Modified Again', both of which are reprinted (the
second only in part) in Helm, op. cit. Baruch A. Brody's views can be found
in 'Morality and Religion Reconsidered', Readings in the Philosophy of Reli-
gion, ed. Baruch A. Brody (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1974), pp. 592-
603. Philip L. Quinn's views can be found in Divine Commands and Moral
Requirements (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1978). I am not claiming that any of
these authors agree with me in my attribution of a particular kind of divine
command theory to Kant.
27. Adams, op. cit. Autonomous submission to political authority ('fredo-
nomy'?) has the same structure.
13
Dialectic of Salvation in Solidarity
Anselm Kyongsuk Min
278
Dialectic of Salvation in Solidarity 279
belong to the intelligible world by virtue of their reason. Kant asks, with-
out answering, why this should be the objective source of the categorical
imperative with its ascription of absolute worth to human beings. 1 Human
beings are equal because they are rational. For Kierkegaard, human dig-
nity and equality are grounded on their equal teleological relationship
with the only absolute being there is, the eternal God in Christ. For
Kierkegaard, we are unconditionally equal and cannot be reduced to rel-
ative ends, not because we embody unconditional value in ourselves as
rational beings, as in Kant, but because we are equally called to the
absolute end, God, who alone is unconditionally valuable. Again, the
chasm between the two cannot be greater.
Kant wanted to save human beings from Christianity as a revealed,
historical religion by forbidding all transcendent use of the idea of God
and the supernatural in the name of the limits of human reason and by
reducing religion to morality in the name of human autonomy. Kierke-
gaard wanted to save Christianity from purely rational human existence
with which Christendom was so eager to equate Christianity by reject-
ing the competence of theoretical reason as in Kant, but not, as in Kant,
in order to reduce religion to rational morality, but in order to defend
Christian faith precisely in its 'infinite' difference from reason. By shift-
ing the issue from the level of reason to that of existence, Kierkegaard
guards Christianity against the pitfalls of the objective theoretical
approach, while at the same time defending Christianity as the culmina-
tion of existence, not dismissing it as the culmination of irrationality, as
did Kant. For Kierkegaard, reason was dangerous to religion, not because
it claimed to know too much, as Kant believed, but because its approach
denatured religion into something it was not, i.e. mere doctrine. Kier-
kegaard, too, had to 'deny knowledge in order to make room for faith',
and the faith he made room for was Christian faith in all its difference
from Kanfs purely moral faith.
However, both the Kantian values of human dignity and autonomy and
the Kierkegaardian values of existence and love of neighbour today
demand realization under vastly different circumstances, which also
requires, I suggest, a fundamental broadening of perspective to include
not only the individual and the ideal but also the social and the mater-
ial, in three senses.
(1) The basic perspective of both Kant and Kierkegaard is that of the
morality of the individual will. For all the differences between the two
Dialectic of Salvation in Solidarity 283
thinkers, there is also a notable similarity in that both are essentially mor-
alists of the individual will. There is a common shift from the theoretical
to the practical - practical reason in Kant and ethical existence in Kier-
kegaard - and both look at morality primarily from the standpoint of
the purity of the individual will or intention. For Kant, only the good
will is good without qualification, and most of his discussions of moral-
ity have to do with the purity of respect for the categorical imperative.
How can I overcome self-love and act out of the pure motive of respect
for duty as such? For Kierkegaard, the standpoint of the individual is
even more explicit. The question of existence is always a question of my
existence, how I can transform my existence. Even in the case of my
love of neighbour, the overriding question is how I should overcome
my self-love so that I can truly love my neighbour. In both instances
there is a preoccupation with the purity of one's own intention. The
question is rarely raised of how the neighbour as such may be effectively
loved. Or, rather, the question of the effective promotion of the well-
being of neighbour is reduced to the question of the purity of one's own
intention. If my own intention is pure, my neighbour is also effectively
loved, as though the purity of one's own intention is both the necessary
and sufficient condition of the effective love of neighbour.
This moralism of the 'pure heart' tends to ignore objective conse-
quences and external conditions of one's action, either because those
consequences are not always within one's subjective power to control
or because those conditions are 'merely' external and have no intrinsic
impact on the inwardness of subjectivity which alone counts.
Although Kant did take external conditions seriously enough to talk
about justice as an aggregate of such conditions that would protect
both freedom and universality, Kierkegaard positively dismissed as in
fact immoral all political attempts to reform the oppressive conditions
that discriminate on the basis of birth, position, circumstances and
education. 6 Presumably, human suffering caused by such structural
injustice has to wait for amelioration until all individuals have had a
change of heart, i.e. until the end of time. Such a moralism is not
aware, or simply ignores, because of a certain historical fatalism, that
the conditions that cause suffering to our neighbours and generate the
need for our love of neighbours in the modern world have increasingly
been structural rather than individual, artificial rather than natural.
There are indeed, and will continue to be, victims of natural disasters
such as drought, floods, earthquakes, typhoons and so on, but it is also
true that most human suffering today is something inflicted by human
beings upon other human beings, most often by means of manipulation
284 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
that dignity in its specifically human content. In this sense, Kant does
speak of the 'universal duty' to help one another in need. The way he
grounds this duty, however, requires attention. 'Everyone who finds
himself in need wishes to be helped by others. But if he lets his maxim
of not willing to help others in turn when they are in need become pub-
lic, Le., makes this a universal permissive law, then everyone would
likewise deny him assistance when he needs it, or at least would be enti-
tled to. Hence the maxim of self-interest contradicts itself when it is
made universal law.!l2 There are two things worth noting here. One is
that the duty is based on enlightened self-interest: by agreeing to it and
by being willing to help others in their need, I want to make sure that I
am going to be helped by others in my need. The other is that this need
for help is regarded as something contingent: I may sometimes need
help from others, but then I may be able to get by without it.
What is missing in both Kant and Kierkegaard is a constitutive sense
of the essentiality and sociality of material conditions of life. Material
conditions are essential to human existence, not only in the sense that
we die without them, but also in the sense that we depend on them for
our political integrity and cultural achievements as well. They are also
products of social labour in which we are essentially interdependent.
We can never produce, consume, own, or earn a thing by our own iso-
lated, unaided effort but only within a network of interdependences
within the economic sphere as well as among the spheres of economics,
politics and culture. Prior to the distinction between luck and lack of
luck, altruism and self-interest, we are mutually dependent. This mutual
dependence or solidarity is not a contingent or accidental but a con-
stitutive dimension of human reality. Precisely because we depend on
one another for the very necessities so essential to our dignity, the pos-
sibility of oppression and exploitation is also inherent in the process,
with an ever-present collective need to liberate and humanize the pro-
cess in the interest of solidarity in dignity. A morality serious about
human dignity must concern itself with effective social action for the
creation of the appropriate material conditions of dignity for all. 13 What
we need is not only a 'metaphysics of morals' in search of the ideal con-
ditions of pure practical reason but also a 'critique of political economy'
interested in the material conditions of effective practical reason.
(3) These reflections should show that a serious and effective concern
for human dignity and love of neighbour today must go beyond the
morality of the pure heart and individual action and embrace political
praxis as an intrinsic dimension of morality. It begins with the recogni-
tion that we are mutually dependent for all the essential conditions of
Dialectic of Salvation in Solidarity 287
What, then, are the especially compelling tasks for a philosophy of reli-
gion rooted in the trajectory of Kant and Kierkegaard and sensitive to
the demands of the kairos? Here I would like to single out three areas of
special importance, one in relation to a more adequate, more compre-
hensive anthropology of human existence, the other in relation to the
situation of religious pluralism, and the third in relation to Christianity.
(1) The broadening shift from the standpoint of the individual will to
that of political praxis also necessitates a shift in basic anthropology
from the Kantian soul/body and the Kierkegaardian individual as body/
psyche/spirit to a dialectic of concrete totality. Human beings are not
first of all isolated entities, be they bodies, souls or individuals, who
then subsequently enter into relations with others; they are first and
288 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
last relational beings. They are part of the cosmos and intrinsically sub-
ject to its power, threat, promise and mystery. Within this basic natural
relation they are also part of society and conditioned by its cultural
horizons, economic resources, political opportunities and social con-
tradictions. Within the limits of these natural and social relations
they also enter into interpersonal relations. It is in and through these
natural, social and interpersonal relations that human beings also acquire
self-consciousness and develop as individuals. Human beings are con-
crete totalities of these many relations in that such relations enter into a
mutual dialectic and assume a particular shape in accordance with the
particularity of the personal context.
It is precisely as a concrete totality of these constitutive relations,
natural, social and interpersonal, that I also 'think', 'will' and 'feel'. I do
none of these things as an isolated monad. I do them as a concrete
totality and therefore subject to all the tensions and contradictions
inherent in that totality. Within this totality the sensible and the intel-
ligible, which Kant wishes to keep separate as phenomena and nou-
mena, constantly mediate and interact with each other. Within this
totality the individual and the social, from whose structural dimensions
Kierkegaard consistently abstracts, mediate and condition each other.
A human being is not only a synthesis of the eternal and the temporal
but also that of the individual and the social, and it is within the con-
crete totality of these essential relations that even the synthesis of the
eternal and the temporal takes place and therefore also subject to all the
ambiguities and tensions of that totality. It is precisely as this concrete
totality that I 'exist' and seek to attain eternal happiness, just as it is as
a seeker of this transcendent happiness that I also live this concrete
totality and thus also subject to the dialectic of transcendence and
immanence.
The point of this anthropology of concrete totality is to exclude in
principle the possibility of abstracting from the concrete totality that
makes up human existence, concentrating on an isolated dimension -
e.g. reason, existence, will, individuality, etc. - as though it were the
whole of human life, and then usually falling into one kind of dualism
or another. The anthropology of concrete totality especially excludes
idealism that tends to think of human existence only in terms of ideas
and intentions and in the process ends up by reducing it to angelic exist-
ence by systematically abstracting from the social and natural dimensions.
By insisting on the natural or cosmic dimension the concept of con-
crete totality recognizes that humans are essentially part of nature, not
its masters, and rules out anthropocentrism in principle. By insisting on
Dialectic of Salvation in Solidarity 289
search for the transcendent, of human reason which can find itself only
in something that infinitely transcends reason. 16
The second task, related to the first, and in a sense the most compel-
ling today, I think, is to heal the dichotomy between morality and reli-
gion, between the Kantian reduction of religion to the praxis of moral
duties to fellow human beings and the Kierkegaardian insistence on
faith in a historical person. It is precisely here that the real issue lies
between Christianity and Western secularism. There is a deep, lingering
suspicion on the part of Western intellectuals that religion, especially
Christianity, is essentially an escape from this-worldly human obliga c
tions and responsibilities. The challenge, therefore, is whether any
mediation is possible between these two antithetical positions. It is, of
course, not a question of finding an approach that would be persuasive
and convincing to both sides - the chasm is too great for any theoret-
ical approach to bridge - but only a question of what can be done, at
least from a Christian perspective that is also deeply concerned for
human well being, in order to heal the essential schizophrenia of the
modern West.
Here, again, I find the basic approach of Karl Rahner and its extension
by liberation theology highly appropriate and suggestive. The possibil-
ity of mediation here lies in the implication of the fact that both Kant
and Kierkegaard recognize love of neighbour as essential to genuine
religion, Kant as the object of the categorical imperative, Kierkegaard as
the fulfilment of the divine law. In Kierkegaard the love of neighbour
still remains extrinsic to love of God, not in the sense that it is separable
from love of God but in the sense that it is something commanded by
God and can be kept authentic only when it accepts God as the ulti-
mate object, norm and goal of its own. It is not of itself, at least implic-
itly, love of God. A true mediation between Kant and Kierkegaard, then,
would lie in showing that love of neighbour is love of God, that there is
an intrinsic unity, although not identity, between the two.
According to Rahner, there is a unity in distinction between our tran-
scendence towards God and our experience of finite beings. Our experi-
ence of finite beings in the world is only possible in the transcendental
horizon of God, and God is never given to us an object among objects
but only as the transcendental horizon of our experience of finite
objects. Whenever there is an unconditional affirmation of a neighbour
expressed in the willingness to sacrifice oneself for him or her, it is
implicitly an affirmation of something unconditional and absolute.
However, the neighbour as a finite being is not himself or herself this
absolute being, nor can the neighbour, therefore, be the ground of such
292 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
Notes
1. Immanuel Kant, The Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals, trans. Lewis
White Beck (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1959), pp. 67-8.
2. A fine recent book describing this dialectic and analysing its implications
for religion and theology is Robert J. Schreiter, The New Catholicity: Theology
between the Global and the Local (New York: Orbis, 1997).
3. Smen Kierkegaard, Training in Christianity, trans. Waiter Lowrie (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1941), p. 39.
4. Kant, Foundations, p. 51.
5. Immanuel Kant, The Metaphysical Elements of Justice, trans. John Ladd (New
York: Macmillan, 1965; Library of Liberal Arts), p. 34.
6. Smen Kierkegaard, Works of Love, trans. Howard and Edna Hong (New York:
Harper & Row, 1962; Harper Torchbooks), pp. 80-2, 93.
7. Immanuel Kant, Religion Within the Limits of Reason Alone, trans. Theodore
M. Greene and Hoyt H. Hudson (New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1960), p. 89.
8. Soren Kierkegaard, The Present Age, trans. Alexander Dru (New York: Harper
Torchbooks, 1962), pp. 79-81.
9. Ibid., p. 79.
10. For a defensive exposition of what I think is Kierkegaard's moralistiC, apolit-
ical politics, see Merold Westphal, Kierkegaard's Critique of Reason and Society
(Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1987), pp. 29-42.
11. Kant, Foundations, p. 49.
12. Immanuel Kant, The Doctrine of Vi/we, trans. Mary J. Gregor (New York:
Harper Torchbooks, 1964), p. 121.
13. See further my Dialectic of Salvation: Issues in Theology of Liberation (Albany:
SUNY Press, 1989), pp. 104-16.
294 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
295
296 Kant and Kierkegaard on Religion
I agree with F about the precise difference between Kant and Kierke-
gaard. For Kant grace poses the question of whether we possess the con-
ditions for human well being. There, with the relation between the
conditions and the facts, we have the analytic a posteriori. For Kierke-
gaard grace is a paradox in a way analogous to that in which the ana-
lytic a posteriori is a paradox: it is not purely analytic and not purely
empirical. Christ is the given, what is analytic for the Christian, and yet
our relation to him must be mediated in the a posteriori, in the details of
our lives.
0: It is easy to speak about the discussion of Kierkegaard in the
analytic tradition - it hardly exists there. R. M. Hare, having read the
Postscript, said that although he found it interesting, he was not sure
it was philosophy. The influence of Kant, on the other hand, has been
huge, but I shall confine myself to one aspect.
R. M. Hare expressed a common view when he said that ever since
Kant's Groundwork we can speak of the independence of morals, the
independence of the human, from divine authority. That is how we
now understand the matter. This is how he is read in the analytic tradi-
tion. When Iris Murdoch wants to find an example of an autonomous
moral agent she finds it a hundred years earlier in Milton's Lucifer.
Why is the Groundwork read in this way; that autonomy requires no
authority? It is because the Groundwork is read as presenting the dilemma
which has dominated Divine Command Theory. Do we derive moral
concepts from God or not? The arguments presented are either crudely
Circular, or make morality self-contradictory. So people reject Divine
Command Theory.
But this cannot be what Kant meant. Throughout his work duties are
seen as divine commands. This is so even in the Groundwork. He also
says that we are members of a kingdom of ends. The kingdom must
have a head, namely, God, although Kant does not say so. The difference
between the head and the subjects is that the head is not answerable to
the subjects. We can make sense of the notion of an autonomous sover-
eign in a political context.
When we discuss Divine Command Theory we forget that Kant is
talking against the background of his Pietistic upbringing. If we forget
this we are likely to make three mistakes: First, we may assume that we
have an intuitive access to God's will. Second, we may be guilty of a
crude circularity. We ought to do God's will because God is defined as
moral. Kant wants to introduce a third element. He wants to show how
we can be both happy and virtuous. But this may lead to a third mis-
take, since to think that duties are based on the hope of reward or the
Voices in Discussion 297
301
302 Index