A Commentary on Kant's Critique of Judgement

H. W. Cassirer

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2020
• Print ISBN:
  9781138650640
• eBook ISBN:
  9781000156492
• Topic: Éducation
• Subtopic: Esthétique en philosophie

This book expounds Kant's Critique of Judgement by interpreting all the details in the light of what Kant himself declares to be his fundamental problem. Providing an excellent introduction to Kant's third critique, it will be of interest to students of philosophy.

THE CRITIQUE OF JUDGMENT

The Critique of Judgment

I

THE FIRST INTRODUCTION

KANT wrote two introductions for the Critique of Judgment. The second of these has been published in every edition of the Critique. The first has had a strange history. It would have been entirely lost but for the fact that Kant sent the manuscript of it to his friend and pupil Jacob Siegismund Beck, who was at that time engaged in writing a commentary on Kant’s philosophy. Beck did not publish the full text of the Introduction, but in 1777 (in the second volume of his commentary) he published an excerpt from it. In this mutilated form the text was reprinted by Rosenkranz in 1838, Hartenstein in 1838 and 1886, von Kirchmann in 1870 and Erdmann in 1880. Finally Buek in 1914 published the full text in his edition of the Critique (K. d. U., ed. by Otto Buek, pp. 179-231). There he gives an interesting account of the history of the text. Kant had only one reason, Buek shows, for replacing the original introduction by a second one, and that was its length. This is in fact the only reason which Kant himself gives for his rejection of it. Lehmann, who published the first introduction in the Philosophische Bibliothek in 1927, asserts that “the first introduction was rejected by Kant not merely owing to its longwindedness, but because as a whole it represented a stage of transition in the development of his thought”.

From my study of the text, however, I am convinced that Buek is right, and that the only reason for Kant’s rejection of the first introduction is the one which he himself gives. I have not been able to discover any important differences in doctrine between the two introductions. It seems to me that they present the same problem in two different forms. It is only natural that the first should have both the advantages and the disadvantages of the more elaborate account, while the second should have those of the more concise one. An English translation of the first introduction has been published along with four introductory essays by Humayun Kabir with the title of Immanuel Kant on Philosophy in General (1935).¹ In his fourth essay, Mr. Kabir discusses the relation between the two introductions and the value of each (pp. cviii–cxxxv). These are questions with which I shall not concern myself. I have, however, had to decide which of the two introductions would be the better subject for commentary. I have chosen the first; because it contains more material than the second, and because in reading both I have found that it was possible to understand the first without referring to the second; whereas when reading the second I had to go back again and again to the first, especially for the help which it could give by its greater richness of illustration and example. If Kant had rejected the first introduction owing to a change in his doctrine, then the one which he substituted for it would have to be regarded as the real introduction to the Critique. But, since this does not seem to me to be the case, I feel entitled to disregard Kant’s scruples concerning the length of the original introduction. I might of course have written a commentary on both introductions, but that would have led to the most tedious repetitions. I shall therefore deal with the second introduction only in Section VI, where Kant considers a problem which is not fully discussed in the first introduction, the problem of the connection between the feeling of pleasure and the concept of the purposiveness of nature.

I have mentioned the recently published translation of the first introduction under the title of On Philosophy in General. If we consider the history of this title it will be apparent that there are no good grounds for retaining it as the title of the first introduction when that is given its proper place as the introduction to the Critique of Judgment.

The title On Philosophy in General was first given to the introduction when it, or rather Beck’s excerpt from it, was published in 1833 in F. Ch. Starke’s edition of Kant’s lesser writings. The editor was forced to make up a title for it, since, owing to Beck’s omissions, it could no longer be called an introduction to the Critique of Judgment. The full title which he gave it was On Philosophy in General and on the Critique of Judgment in Particular, and in the index this was shortened to On Philosophy in General. All subsequent editions give it the shorter name. We may admit that it is not an altogether unsuitable name, since we find in the text a more elaborate account than Kant gives anywhere else of the general principles of his philosophy. There seems, however, no reason why we should give it to the unabridged first introduction. However important it may be to us that Kant has given us a treatise in which he sets forth the general principles of his philosophy so clearly that it can help us to understand his philosophy as a whole, we must not forget that his purpose in writing it was to prepare us for the Critique of Judgment. This, I think, ought to be expressed in the title. The treatise is simply an introduction to the Critique of Judgment based upon the general principles of the transcendental philosophy.

In my interpretation I shall try to show that the Introduction must be understood in relation to the general principles of Kant’s thought, and must be regarded as a part of the whole Critical Philosophy. I have thought it advisable not to give a merely general survey of Kant’s problem and its solution, but to follow his argument step by step and to deal with the details of his exposition. My chief reason for doing so is that I have found that, even after Kant’s general idea had become clear to me, there remained considerable difficulty in following his argument in detail; and, in writing my commentary, I have had in mind a reader with the same difficulties about details and have thought that he might be glad of a commentary dealing with them. Further, my idea of a commentary on a philosophical work is that it should try to help the reader to understand particular passages which he finds difficult; and that is what I have tried to do in this commentary. The correctness of my explanations is another matter, and as to that I can only say that I am far from imagining that they are correct on every point. Another reason for choosing to expound the Introduction in detail is that I wish to rebut the charge that it is nothing but a piece of “architectonic”, and only a detailed exposition can do this: a merely general survey of the argument would be unconvincing and might even confirm the charge by giving us the impression that the treatise with all its enumerations of divisions (the divisions of philosophy, of the mind and of the cognitive faculties) was to be considered more as a general tidying up of Kant’s system than as the presentation or discussion of a real problem.

SECTION 1

In Section I of the Introduction, which is headed “Philosophy as a System”, Kant discusses the question of what belongs to theoretical and what to practical philosophy. There is, he says, a grave misunderstanding as to what is to be regarded as practical. It might seem as if we were entitled to give the name practical to a proposition simply because it expressed a form of doing and was not mere knowing; for example, it might seem as if the proposition which gave us precepts as to how to put theoretical knowledge into practice should be called practical. This, however, is not so, for such propositions do not contain anything more than is already contained in theoretical knowledge. A geometrical proposition may prescribe what we have to do to produce a certain effect, for instance the bisection of a line. A proposition of this kind cannot be regarded as a genuine practical proposition. For it contains no principle of its own, that is to say, no principle which would make it independent of theoretical knowledge. A proposition, to be truly practical, must be determined by specific principles, that is to say it must be determined by practical principles or laws of freedom, not by theoretical principles or laws of nature. Therefore not every proposition which is concerned with some kind of doing belongs to practical philosophy. Only those propositions form a part of practical philosophy which contain a special principle of practical freedom and are thus fundamentally different from theoretical propositions. All other so-called practical propositions are determined by the laws of natural causality, and are distinguished from theoretical knowledge only formally and not in respect of their content.

It is true that every proposition which refers to some kind of action—even one which is determined by principles of nature—is determined by a formula which differs from a merely theoretical formula. Doing something in accordance with our knowledge of natural causes is not identical with knowing a thing theoretically. But the difference between them is merely formal and is not a difference in principle. Even when our actions are determined by precepts for the furtherance of our own happiness, the propositions in which these precepts are contained are not on that account to be regarded as practical propositions. For the causal relation between our idea of happiness and the effects which are produced by it belongs to the realm of nature: it is the relation between two natural objects. When we act in accordance with such an idea, our action is nothing but the immediate consequence of our theoretical knowledge of objects in relation to our own nature. The concept of happiness is conceived by our understanding, and the same understanding determines theoretically the actions which will lead to our happiness. Action in accordance with such knowledge is not in principle different from theoretical knowledge. It is an immediate consequence of it, and does not require any independent principle which could be called a practical principle.

From this account of practical propositions it is evident that the principles of the so-called practical sciences, such as applied geometry, cannot be regarded as genuine practical principles; and that these sciences do not therefore belong to practical philosophy. Neither can we regard as practical the principles of a will which determines itself by natural objects of which we can have theoretical knowledge, e.g., happiness; and the propositions which express our desire for such objects are not practical propositions. As long as the will obeys none but the laws of natural causality, the knowledge of which is the concern of our understanding (for instance, as long as our understanding first makes us conceive the idea of happiness as the object of desire and then determines the relation between happiness and our own nature) no practical rules or propositions are produced. Propositions produced in this way belong to theoretical philosophy; for they do not contain any specific practical principle but merely determine the causal relation between a physical object which is desired and our own nature. Only a free will, i.e., a will which makes itself independent of natural objects, can produce practical propositions which belong to practical philosophy. “It is true that practical propositions differ from theoretical propositions in their method of representing things (Vorstellungsart). This, however, does not cause them to be different in content from theoretical propositions which contain the possibility of things and their determinations. Only those practical propositions are different in content which consider freedom in accordance with laws. All the others are nothing but the theory of what belongs to the nature of the things, with the one difference that they apply to the way in which those things can be produced according to a principle: i.e., the possibility of those things through an arbitrary action is represented in them, which action belongs just as much to the sphere of natural causes.” (C. of J., 180, Buek; 4, Lehmann.) “In a word, all practical propositions which derive that which may be contained in nature from the arbitrary will as cause belong without exception to theoretical philosophy as knowledge of nature. Only those practical propositions which give a law (das Gesetz) to freedom are specifically different in content from the former, [i.e., theoretical propositions].” (C. of J., 180, Buek; 5, Lehmann.)

“Now the possibility of things in accordance with laws of nature is essentially different in its principles from the possibility of things in accordance with laws of freedom. This difference does not, however, consist in the fact that with the latter [i.e., the possibility through freedom] the cause is placed in a will, whereas with the former it is placed outside it in the things themselves. For let us assume that the will does not follow principles other than those in regard to which the understanding comprehends that the object is possible according to them as mere laws of nature. In that case the proposition which expresses the possibility of the object through the causality of the arbitrary will may be called a practical proposition. And yet as regards its principles it will differ in no way from theoretical propositions which are concerned with the nature of things, or rather it must borrow its principle from it [i.e., the nature of the things] in order to exhibit the representation of an object in reality.” (C. of J., 181, Buek; 5 & 6, Lehmann.)

All this may at first seem very mysterious: yet as far as the general principle is concerned the doctrine is known to everyone who is familiar with Kant’s moral philosophy; for it is the basis of his distinction between categorical and hypothetical imperatives. We may remind ourselves that according to Kant hypothetical are distinguished from categorical imperatives in that the command given by the former is made to depend on certain conditions while the latter commands unconditionally. Hypothetical imperatives never determine actions unconditionally, but only determine them on the condition that something else is made an object of the will: our action depends on the object, and this object we may or may not desire. Our action is thus an arbitrary one. Hypothetical imperatives do not command simply that a certain action should be done, but that if a certain object is desired certain actions should be done since they will put us in possession of the object.

In the Groundwork Kant distinguishes between two kinds of hypothetical imperative, (a) imperatives of skill and (b) imperatives of prudence. In the case of the former the object is entirely arbitrary, i.e., it is an object which we might just as well repudiate as desire. We may take as an example a doctor who makes the health of his patient the object of his will. Assuming that he wishes to realise this object and has the necessary theoretical knowledge of the means which will bring it about, he will act accordingly. Yet his action will have no independent practical principle: it will be nothing but an immediate consequence of his theoretical knowledge; for that he who wills the end wills also the means to achieve it is an analytical proposition. The end in the case which we are considering is not a practical object; for the doctor conceives the idea of the object, the health of his patient, by mere thought. The actions which he does are not guided by a practical principle, but are wholly dependent on the desired object and on the means which will realise that object. Now both end and means are known theoretically, and the action is therefore not determined by a practical principle.

The same holds for the principles of the so-called practical sciences, such as applied geometry. It is clear that if I wish to bisect a line, and if I know that in order to do so I must draw from its extremities two intersecting arcs, then I shall do this. It is also clear that my action does not possess any principle of its own, but is entirely dependent on my theoretical knowledge, of which it is the immediate consequence. The connection between knowing and doing is here analytic and not synthetic: i.e., the principle which determines my action is implicit in what I know theoretically. The imperatives of prudence, i.e., those imperatives which command us to bring about our own happiness, differ from the imperatives of skill in that their object, namely, happiness, must necessarily be desired by every finite rational being. Yet we cannot attribute to the actions which are determined by such imperatives any practical principle of their own. Happiness is an object the idea of which we conceive by means of thinking. From this idea it follows analytically that we shall use the means by which it can be brought about. It may seem absurd to assume that the actions which will lead to our happiness are implicit in our idea of happiness, since it is obviously very difficult or even impossible to have perfect knowledge of what we should do to make ourselves happy. But it is important to notice that the difficulty is in knowing how to achieve happiness. It is not at all difficult to see that if we had full knowledge of the nature of happiness and the means of achieving it our actions would follow immediately and would be in strict accordance with our knowledge. The imperatives of prudence would on that assumption be merely analytic propositions, i.e., they would be propositions implicit in our theoretical concept of happiness. They w...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Original Title Page
• Original Copyright
• Dedication
• Preface
• Table of Contents
• Introduction
• The Critique of Judgment
• Index