Chapter I

Kant’s Theocentric Metaphysics

 

 

God, freedom, and immortality of the soul are the problems at whose solution all the apparatus of metaphysics aims as its ultimate purpose. [Kt7:473]

 

1. Kant: Destroyer or Preserver of Metaphysics?

       Does Kant’s Critical philosophy destroy the possibility of theology? Is his System of Perspectives[1] meant to undermine the legitimacy of theological reflec­tion, or to limit our knowledge of God to a merely negative path by abolishing its metaphysical foundation? Is there any alternative to the view that regards Kant as aiming to undermine organized religion by reducing religious beliefs and actions to nothing but morality in disguise? Does Kant sub­stitute for metaphysics a positivistic the­ory of scientific knowl­edge that denies ordinary religious believers any hope of experiencing the transcendent? An interpreter’s answers to such questions will inevitably depend to a large extent on prior as­sumptions relating to what one regards as Kant’s main purpose in constructing his entire philosophical System. For this reason, a trustworthy interpretation of what I shall call Kant’s ‘Critical religion’ must be built on the foundation of a prior understanding of his ‘Critical philosophy’ [see KSP1].

       Unfortunately, such questions have been answered all too often in ways that go directly against Kant’s own expressed intentions. Many theologians, especially since Ritschl and the ‘back to Kant’ move­ment, have tended to give affirmative answers, interpreting Kant ‘as an antimetaphysical moralist’.[2] On the basis of the ‘fact-value’ distinction that Kant’s philosophy appears to support, such neo-Kantians believed that if theology (like any other form of speculation) is to survive, it must cut all ties with metaphysics and per­haps even, following Barth’s lead, with philosophy as a whole. Whatever view of the relation between theology and philosophy a person holds, anyone who interprets Kant in this way is sure to agree with Cupitt that ‘we [theologians] who live after Kant must walk the negative way.’[3] Collins adopts this position in Co60a:183 when he por­trays Kant as ‘destroying every philosophy of God’ and as arguing: ‘Natural theology has no possibility of providing us with true knowledge about God and should be aban­doned.’ And Green echoes the sentiments of many Christian readers of Kant when he mockingly exclaims: ‘Professor Kant, the destroyer of supernaturalist ortho­doxy, has revealed himself to be the apologist for a new, true Christianity!’[4] 

       Philosophers too have often agreed in assessing the Critique of Pure Reason [Kt1], at least, as ‘the most thorough and devastating of all anti-metaphysi­cal writings’ [Wa63b:38], thus making Kant ‘the most tremendous disintegrating force of modern times’ [Ba03:xvi; s.a. xvii]. Shortly after the publication of the first Critique, Mendelssohn labeled Kant the ‘all destroyer’, and since then many have fol­lowed him in regarding Kant as ‘the arch-destroyer in the realm of thought’, putting forward ‘destructive, world-annihilating thoughts’ [He59:109]. Gilson extends this judgment to the whole of Kant’s philosophy, main­taining that ‘Kant ... had no metaphysical interests of his own’ [Gi37:310]. Since ‘a new philosophical cycle was to begin’ [220] with Kant’s thorough­going ‘rejection of metaphysics’ [229], Gilson regards any of Kant’s theories or statements that border on the metaphysical as superfluous nonessentials that he merely borrowed from ‘hearsay’.[5] Findlay sums up this tendency rather con­cisely: ‘It is usual nowadays to think of Kant as some sort of incipient posi­tivist, always verging towards a belief in the total non-significance of ideas lacking all empirical illustration’ [Fi76:3].

       Not all philosophers and theologians, however, interpret Kant’s intentions so negatively. Findlay himself goes on to say that, even though ‘Kant’s theory of knowledge ... has aspects that can with justice be called “positivist”, it is not at all positivist in its account of the necessary underpinnings of such knowl­edge’ [Fi81:5]; ‘Kant’s theory of knowledge cannot, therefore, be called posi­tivist, though it is quite right to see something like positivism in his account of what we can effectively know’ [9]. Barth agrees that it is wrong to view Kant as ‘a kind of super-sceptic’, or as the ‘all-annihilating one’; for his Criticism is always intended as ‘an affirmation of reason.... Kant both has and demands an almost unconditional faith in reason’ [Ba72:270-1; cf. Wo78:16]. Indeed, ‘it would have surprised Kant’, says Paulsen, ‘to hear that he had destroyed meta­physics. Certainly nothing was further from his intention than that.’[6] England adds that Kant denies ‘only the validity of a certain type of metaphysics’ [En29: 207], for ‘what is really implied in the critical position is ... the substitution of an immanent metaphy­sics for the older transcendent metaphysics’ [113-4; s.a. 208-9]. And Wood goes so far as to suggest that ‘Kant himself was in many ways ... an “existentialist” theologian’![7]

       Numerous of Kant’s own comments can be construed as defending a positivism of some sort. For example, he urges us ‘to believe that we have ap­proximated to completeness in the empirical employment of [a] principle only in proportion as we are in a position to verify such unity in empirical fashion’ [Kt1:720, e.a.]. If this is positivism, however, it is far from straightforward; for he continues with the caveat: ‘a completeness which is never, of course, at­tainable.’ Moreover, when Kant turns away from such empirical considera­tions, his position becomes explicitly nonpositivistic. For example, he argues against skepticism in the same way one could argue against the use of the (unverifiable) principle of verification as the basis of positivism. To assert ‘that there is and can be no a priori knowledge at all’, chides Kant, ‘would be like proving by reason that there is no such thing as reason’ [Kt4:12]. The fre­quency of such comments in Kant’s writings casts a shadow of incredulity upon any skeptical or anti-metaphysical interpretation. But in order to pass from this negative conclusion, that Kant was not attempting to destroy metaphysics, to its positive counterpart, that he was actually attempting to preserve a form of metaphysics, we must take a brief look at the way Kant himself portrayed the role of metaphysics in his major philosophical writings.

 

2. Metaphysics in Kant’s Philosophical Writings

       A popular myth concerning Kant’s development, which helps breed the above-mentioned misconceptions about his true attitude towards metaphysics and theology, is that he started out as a typical Wolffian rationalist, and only began formulat­ing his ‘Critical’ principles after being jarred by Hume out of his rationalist compla­cency. Yet a careful and open-minded reading of Kant’s early (so-called ‘pre-Critical’) works[8] yields quite a different impression: ‘From the beginning he made no attempt to hide his dislike of the compact mass of Wolff­ian doc­trine’ [Vl62:3]; instead, his lifelong goal was to discover and follow ‘the cor­rect philosophical method and by means of it to construct an eternal meta­physics’ [2; s.a. Go71:63]. One of the many examples of a text that supports such a view comes in Kt15:71(229), where Kant announces (in 1763) that he has ‘sought in vain from others’ for an ade­quate philosophical method to replace ‘the imitation (or rather the aping) of the mathematician’, which ‘has on the slippery ground of metaphysic occasioned a multitude of ... false steps’. Moreover, as we shall see in II.2, by 1766 (fifteen years before the publication of Kt1) Kant shows an awareness (in Kt18) of the crucial difference between ‘speculative’ and ‘Critical’ meta­physics, and announces his intention to concen­trate his attention on the latter. His philo­sophical ‘panacea’, then, ‘was not discovered by a sud­den stroke of intuitive genius but [was] allowed slowly and painfully to reach ripe elaboration’ [Vl62:3; s.a. Ma55 and Wa72].

       Kant expresses his true attitude towards metaphysics quite clearly in a number of explicit statements throughout his writings, a typical example being the quote given at the beginning of this chapter. In an equally explicit passage written in 1766, he confesses [Kt18:367-8(112-13); cf. Kt1:878]:

 

Metaphysics, with which it is my fate to be in love, although only rarely can I boast of any favours from her, offers two advantages. The first is that it serves to solve the tasks which the questioning mind sets itself when by means of reason it inquires into the hidden qualities of things. But here the result only too often falls below expectation ...

 

The other advantage is more adapted to human reason, and consists in recognizing whether the task be within the limits of our knowledge and in stating its relation to the conceptions derived from experience, for these must always be the founda­tion of all our judgments. In so far metaphysics is the science of the boundaries of human reason. And ... this use of metaphysics ... is at the same time the least known and the most important, and ... is obtained only late and by long experi­ence.

 

In a letter written at about the same time, Kant reveals a similar position:

 

I am far from regarding metaphysics itself, objectively considered, to be trivial or dispensable; in fact I have been convinced for some time now that I understand its nature and its proper place in human knowledge and that the true and lasting wel­fare of the human race depends on it ... [AA10:67(Zw67:55)].

 

The significance of this early stage in Kant’s development, and the na­ture and extent of Hume’s influence, will be discussed further in II.1-4. For now it will suffice to say that Kant saw Kt1 not as a denial of his love of meta­physics, but as its truest and most secure foundation. For in a letter written just after its publication in 1781, he claims Kt1 ‘includes the meta­physics of metaphysics.’[9]

       These are just a few of the many passages where Kant quite clearly views his contribution to meta­physics in terms of neither positivistic empiricism nor strict ‘rationalism’;[10] in­stead, he sees himself as offering—to borrow one of his own favorite ex­pres­sions—‘a third thing’. A label often used to denote his synthesis between em­piricism and rationalism is the easily misunderstood title, ‘transcendental ideal­ism’. But since this phrase properly refers to just one of his many philo­sophical doctrines [see KSP1:173n], I have suggested an alter­native title in §II.3 of KSP1. Interpreting Kant’s philosophy as a ‘System of Perspectives’ enables us to ac­count for the potentially confusing recurrence of both rationalist and empiric­ist (as well as both metaphysical and anti-metaphys­ical) elements in his writings. This in turn enables us to see how Kant’s System ‘restores metaphysics’ [Ak91:70]; as Akhutin observes, ‘it turns metaphysics into philosophy.’ And Kant himself [Kt69:281] says the third (highest) stage of progress in metaphysics (i.e., the practical, as it passes beyond the dogmatic and the skeptical) corresponds to Critical theol­ogy surpassing ontology and cosmo­logy. Exploring Kant’s metaphysical idea of God in this volume will thus give us ample reason to affirm Akhutin’s appraisal [Ak91:70]: ‘It was not meta­physics that Kant is striving to eliminate, but the metaphysical idol of reason.’

 

3. The Theocentric Orientation of Kant’s Philosophy

       If Kant is neither a straightforward positivist nor a traditional rationalist, the question yet remains how he intends his philosophy to relate to theology. As far as methodology and terminology are concerned, Barth is largely correct to say Kant is ‘purely a philosopher and his philosophy is not in the least dressed in the garb of theology.’[11] Indeed, as Sykes points out, ‘the whole object of [Part I of Kt65] is to demonstrate the necessity of an institutionalized rivalry between theology and philosophy’ [Sy82:100]. But ‘theology’ in such contexts refers for Kant only to what is more accurately called ‘biblical studies’ or ‘revealed theology’ [see Kt8:8-11(7-10)]—disciplines Kant himself never practiced. Yet if the meaning of ‘theology’ is widened to include any serious, scholarly study of God, religion, and related subjects, his philosophy can be seen in many respects to be ‘theocentric’ in orientation. ‘Theocentric’ here does not mean Kant requires human knowledge of God to serve as the basis of or center for all other types of knowledge. On the contrary, it means the problems surrounding our understanding of the nature and reality of God serve as the central driving force of his philosophy.[12]

       Prior to Kant most philosophers used theology—especially the implications of God’s existence (which many believed they could prove)—to bridge gaps they could not bridge by purely philosophical means. Two obvious examples are Descartes’ assumption that God’s existence guarantees that, ‘regarding objects which are clearly and distinctly represented ..., I can never be deceived’ [De70:4.119], and Berkeley’s theory that objects not cur­rently being perceived by any human subject can be said to persist only insofar as they are being perceived by God. Kant, however, flatly rejects such ap­proaches:

 

To have recourse to God ... in explaining the arrangements of nature and their changes is ... a complete confession that one has come to the end of his philoso­phy, since he is compelled to assume something of which in itself he otherwise has no concept in order to conceive of the possibility of something he sees before his very eyes. [Kt4:138]

 

This removal of the concept of God from its traditional place in the ‘gaps’ of philosophical inquiry is commonly interpreted as an example of Kant’s posi­tivistic and anti-theological disposition. What tends to be ignored by such inter­preters is that Kant replaces this traditional assumption with that of his famous, or infamous, concepts of the ‘thing in itself’ [see KSP1:VI.2] and ‘noumenon’ [see note I.3, above]. He has a num­ber of reasons for doing so [see KSP1: V.1-4], among them being the preserva­tion of the integrity of philosophy and the protection of theology from its skeptical and agnostic critics.[13] For he regards the thing in itself as the unknowable ques­tion mark of philosophical inquiry [see KSP1:AV]; God is freed to play a far more important and determinant role [s.e. Chs. V-VI, below]. In one sense, as we shall see, God transcends even the thing in itself, and so, for Kant, is radically unknowable. But in another, equally important sense, God is immanent; indeed, this rich concept of ‘a living God’ [Kt1:661] forms the very heart of Kant’s entire philoso­phical project. In other words, a real (though mysterious) God—not just an ‘idea’ of reason—is the central fo­cus towards which every strand in Kant’s System points.[14] The interplay between these two aspects of his concept of God constitutes a valuable contri­bution to philo­sophical theology, for which he has rarely, if ever, been given full credit.

       Although it is true that Kant always writes primarily as a philoso­pher, it is also true that ‘the Critical philosophy left his basic beliefs untouched’ [Wa72: 143; s.a. Pa02:263] and that the three ‘ideas’ guiding his entire philosophical endeavor—viz., ‘God, freedom, and immortality’ [e.g., Kt1:xxx; Kt4:3-4; Kt7:473]—are all primarily theocentric in their orientation. Thus it should come as no surprise that the concept of God ‘was constantly recurring throughout the various stages of [Kant’s] in­tellectual development’ [He57:13; s.a. En29:208-9]. The inordi­nate attention interpreters usually give to the arguments in Kt1’s Tran­scendental Ana­lytic ironically veils the fact that Kant intends the book ‘to clear the way for a positive account of what he regards as the correct theology for human beings’ [Ax89:310]. Even Heine, who views Kt1 as ‘the sword that slew deism in Germany’ [He59:107], agrees that Kant’s criticism of the tradi­tional proofs for the existence of God ‘forms one of the main points of [Kt1]’ and that we ought to ‘recognise everywhere visible in [Kt1] his polemic against these proofs’ [He59:115-6]. Unfortunately, he believes Kant was trying to prove that ‘this ideal ... being, hitherto called God, is a mere fiction’ [115]—a view I shall reject in Part Two, and throughout this volume.

       Wood is one of the few interpreters prior to 1989 (Pa89 being an early synopsis of the approach taken here) to acknowledge and develop the con­struc­tive, theocentric tenor of Kant’s philosophy [see notes I.7,13]. He says:

 

Kant is fundamentally unable to conceive of the human situation except theisti­cally ... For Kant’s real aim is not to destroy theology, but to replace a dogmatic theology with a Critical one: to transform rational theology from a complacent speculative science into a critical examination of the inevitable but perpetually in­soluble problems of human reason, and a vehicle for the expression of our moral aspirations under the guidance of an autonomous reason. [Wo78:17]

 

He claims, quite rightly, that ‘there is widespread misunderstanding of Kant’s ideas’ concerning his Criticism of the proofs for God’s existence [10; see below, Ch.IV and AV.1-3]. Moreover, Kant’s Lectures on Philosophical Theology [Kt26] show, ac­cording to Wood, ‘that [even] the traditional theology was to a large extent compatible with Kant’s critical philosophy’ [Wo78:149]. Indeed, Kant’s con­cern for and influence on theology was extensive: not only does Barth credit him with having ‘understood what the idea of a Church was’ and as having also ‘understood what grace was’ [Ba72:339], but Sykes regards him ‘as one of those who prepared the way for the fragile advances of the Second Vatican Council’ [Sy82:103]—three theological accomplishments of no small merit![15]

       Kant himself openly and repeatedly affirms the theocentric orientation in his under­stand­ing of metaphysics. In 1763 he upholds ‘THERE IS A GOD’ as ‘the most important of all our cognitions’—so important that it is in no danger of being refuted by metaphysical speculation [Kt15:65(219)]. In a 1770 letter to his friend Lambert, Kant explains that the purpose for fixing the prin­ciples and limits of knowledge is ‘so that these principles could not be confus­edly applied to objects of pure reason’ [AA10:94(Zw67:59)]. That these ‘objects’ are the ideas of God, freedom, and immortality is repeatedly stressed by Kant: ‘Meta­physics has as the proper object of its enquiries three ideas only: God, freedom, and immortality’ [Kt1:395n]; ‘metaphysics has engaged so many heads up till now and will continue to engage them not in order to extend natu­ral knowledge ..., but in order to attain to a knowledge of what lies entirely be­yond all the bound­aries of experience, namely, God, freedom, and immortality’ [Kt3:477]. And he emphasizes the theocentric orientation of all metaphysics even more explic­itly as late as Kt69:292: ‘The supersensible in the world (the spiritual nature of the soul) and out of the world (God), hence immortality and theology, are the ultimate ends towards which metaphysics is directed.’

       Kant also makes it clear in numerous places that his own task is ultimately constructive with respect to theology and religion, just as it is for metaphysics in general. His famous claim ‘to deny knowledge, in order to make room for faith’ [Kt1:xxx] certainly implies something of this sort, especially when it is seen in context [see KSP1:V.1]. For a large portion of the second edition Pref­ace to Kt1 is devoted to clarifying that ‘all objections to morality and reli­gion’ have been ‘for ever silenced’ by this Critique of reason’s powers.[16] Else­where in Kt1 he explains that theology, morals, and religion, which correspond to these three ideas, respectively, are ‘the highest ends of our existence’ [395n; s.a. 494,656]. And in the last few pages of the Critique he concludes that, ‘although metaphysics cannot be the foundation of religion, it must always continue to be a bulwark of it’, and that a Critical metaphysics ‘prevents the devastations of [speculation] ... in the field of morals as well as in that of reli­gion’ [877]. His Critique of Practical Reason [Kt4] continues the task of insuring against ‘the possibility of making theology merely a magic lantern of phantoms’ [141]. His seminal doctrine of the primacy of practical reason[17] rep­re­sents the culmination of this line of thinking: an anthropocentric System would give primacy to theoretical reason, treating human knowledge as its cen­tral feature; Kant denies such knowledge only in the sense of rejecting its cen­trality, because his System puts the theocentric faith of practical reason in its place.

       Even at the end of his life, Kant was intent on emphasizing the theocentric orientation of his philosophy: ‘The highest level of the tran­scendental philosophy ... lies in this twofold task: 1.What is God? 2.Is there a God?’ [Kt9:22.63(Su71:119)]. Moreover, if Kant’s own testimony is not evi­dence enough, ‘his friend and biographer, Jachmann’ informs us, as Greene notes, ‘that, in private conversations with his friends “the philosopher and the man spoke out in undeniable testimony to an inner feeling and a gen­uine conviction [of God’s existence]”; and that “in the true sense of the word he was a wor­shipper of God.[18]

       This interpretation goes directly against the view that has prevailed among most English-speaking readers of Kant, that Kant’s System is anthropocentric. This myth’s long life has been largely the result of Greene’s seminal defense of such a position in his introductory essay to the standard translation of Kt8. In stressing Kant’s supposed ‘absolute insistence upon the reduction of true reli­gion to morality’—an interpretation we shall have reason to reject in Chapter VI and throughout Part Three—Greene characterizes Kant’s ‘whole religious theory ... [as] anthropocentric, not theocentric’ [Gr34:lxxvi]. But what Greene takes as evidence of an anti-theocentric approach to religion is best conceived as being a Critical response to both the anthropocentric and the theo­centric ap­proaches taken by most previous philosophers. Allison rightly points out that Kant’s rejection of ‘transcendental realism’ in Kt1 amounts to a rejec­tion of a ‘theocentric model of knowledge’ [Al85:27; s.a. Al76]. Kant’s epis­temology, in other words, is admittedly anthropocentric: what we can know is limited to the phenomenal realm of human experience.[19] In this sense alone is Gulyga right to say [Gu87:61] ‘man is at the centre of Kant’s philosophical interests.’ Yet Kant’s epistemology is only meant to prepare the way for a proper (hypo­thetical/practical) approach to theological issues. In each Critique the traditional way of being theocentric or anthropocentric is rejected in favor of a limited anthropocentricity that leaves room for a proper theocentricity. In this sense, we could qualify the foregoing arguments by saying the overall orienta­tion of Kant’s System is Critically theocentric—i.e., it balances the purely anthropo­centric and theocentric approaches to philosophy with an approach that does justice to both.[20]

 

4. The Scope of This Volume

       We can now offer a tentative answer to the question posed at the outset of this chapter: Kant destroys not so much the possibility of theology as that of the one-sided rationalist spirit of the Enlightenment, in the midst of which he him­self was nurtured. His genius is to have done this without going to the op­posite extreme of embracing positivism. In the process of working out his ‘Critical’ approach, he proposes numerous theories that are highly relevant to theologians and philosophers of religion. Unfortunately, many of these are imbedded so deeply within the intricacies of his philosophy that they are easily ne­glected or misunderstood. On the basis of the systematic analysis of the architectonic form and content of Kant’s Critical philosophy completed in the first volume of this series, we are now prepared to investigate in detail the most im­portant of his System’s religious and theological implications. To help readers recognize the systematic connection between the remain­ing chap­ters, I shall con­clude this first chapter with a summary of this volume.[21]

       Part One sets the stage for the entire study in three distinct ways. Here in the first chapter we have demonstrated that, despite com­mon assumptions to the contrary, Kant’s mature philosophy (or ‘System of Perspectives’) has a radical­ly theocentric orientation, promoted by the three metaphysical ideas. Chapter II takes a close look at Kant’s early (and often neglected) book, Dreams of a Spirit-Seer, Illustrated by Dreams of Metaphysics [Kt18], arguing that it fore­shadows with amazing accuracy some of the most basic tenets of the Critical philosophy. Its treatment of mystical visions (‘dreams’) directly parallels the treatment of metaphysical speculation in Kt1. A detailed overview of this text will not only reveal some rather surprising influences on Kant’s thinking, but will also provide an indispensable context for interpreting the religious and theo­logi­cal orientation of his mature System in terms of his long-held interest in con­struct­ing a legitimate philosophical foundation for mystical experience. The third chapter then takes a step back and re­views the fundamental elements and metaphysical implications of Critical philosophy, as set forth in KSP1. (Those who have recently read KSP1 may therefore wish to skip Chapter III.)

       Part Two examines three key aspects of Kant’s Critical theology: his reasons for believing in God’s existence; symbolic ways to understand God’s nature; and the relationship between theology and morality. Chapter IV explains the problem of transcen­den­tal theology (namely, that there is no way to prove God actually exists) and how Kant attempts to solve it. The first Critique introduces the regulative employment of the idea of God to demonstrate how this notion can be useful even though its objective validity cannot be absolutely confirmed. The third Critique presents physicotheology as providing empirical evidence for the God-hypothesis—evidence that is com­pelling, provided we do not pretend it constitutes an ir­refutable theoretical proof. And the second Critique gives the ultimate rationale for belief in God: preserving the role of morality for properly-functioning human relationships necessitates a God-postulate. The next chapter begins with a description of God’s transcen­dence, in light of the Kantian opposition between human reason and divine un­der­standing (or ‘intellectual intuition’). An account of the symbolic nature of all descriptions of God is followed by a series of suggestions as to how Kant thinks we should form theological and moral models of God’s nature, once we are committed to believing in God’s existence. Chapter VI raises the question as to whether Kant’s well known emphasis on the centrality of moral­ity for all genuine religion constitutes a total reduction of religion to morality. This common view is shown to be incorrect: Kant’s own statements clearly indicate that he regards genuine empirical religion as a synthesis between morality and theology; morality on its own does not suffice and must therefore be raised to the level of religion by integrating it with a Critical theology.

       Part Three examines Kant’s system of religion, as laid out in his Religion within the Bounds of Bare Reason [Kt8] from three points of view. Chapter VII summarizes Kant’s rational system of religious perspectives (systemr) in terms of a twelve-step argument that follows the same architectonic form as the first two Critiques [see Part Three of KSP1]. Each of the four ‘Books’ estab­lishes one of the four ‘stages’ in Kant’s argument: radical evil, conversion to the good, founding of a church, and service of God. Chapter VIII shows how Kant regards Christianity as the best historical manifestation of the universal reli­gion of reason estab­lished by systemr. Kant’s interpretations often provide richly symbolic ways of interpreting the Old Testament’s creation story, the New Testament’s gospel, and numerous church doctrines and rituals. Rather than being reductionistic, systemr leaves a space for some­thing outside the boundaries of human reason. Following a hint Kant gives in the Preface to Kt8, Chapter IX takes up the Perspective of the biblical theologian: the Greatest Commandment and the Great Commission are used to construct a systematic biblical theology that is surprisingly consistent with Kant’s general approach to theology and religion. The one crucial element that still seems to be missing from Kant’s System up to this point, rendering it apparently inadequate for use in the context of any real, lived religion, is a place for religious experience.

       The task of demonstrating that Kant’s System of Perspectives actually provides the means of solving this final problem is taken up in Part Four. After some initial reflections on the nature of mysticism and religious experience, Chapter X explains why most interpreters believe Kant rejects even the possi­bility of mystical experience. As long as mystical experiences are not regarded as conveying empirical knowledge, and as long as they do result in an im­provement or strengthening of the person’s moral outlook, a refined or ‘Critical’ form of mysticism can be seen to fit quite comfortably into Kant’s System. A wealth of textual evidence is amassed to show that, in fact, Kant was no stranger to mystical ideas and metaphors. Chapter XI enters into a de­bate over the issue of what Kant meant when he wrote, towards the end of his life, that a ‘gap’ still remained in his System. In contrast to a rather un­likely conjecture made by Förster, I defend the view that Kant’s final, unfinished book (Opus Postumum [Kt9]) was intended to be the ‘Grand Synthesis’ of his metaphysical works, and that the gap was ‘tantalizing’ precisely because of its mystical char­acter. The final chapter examines the textual evidence for interpret­ing Kt9 as an extended defense of the Critical mysti­cism that Kant’s entire System was de­voted to developing. Kant’s treatment of our immediate aware­ness of the cate­gorical imperative as the ‘voice of God’ in our hearts and his correspond­ing treatment of ether or the caloric as an invisible ‘hand of God’ in nature reveal the purpose of Kt9 to be that of establishing the twofold foun­da­tion of Critical mysticism, culminating in the ideal God-man (i.e., Christ) as the final philo­sophical justifica­tion for a religious and theological outlook on life.

       The purpose of this first sequel to KSP1, then, is to replace the typical in­terpretation of Kant’s theology and philosophy of religion as an austere, deistic agnosticism and moral reductionism with a more accu­rate interpretation, reveal­ing a richer and more viable, theocen­tric System. My hope is to unveil the heart of what Cassirer aptly calls ‘the critical philosophy’s new theoreti­cal [i.e., philosophi­cal] perspective on the world and on life’ [Ca81:38]. After gaining a new appreciation for the crucial role religious experience has in authenti­cating, or ‘bringing home’, the reality of the Kantian God, who otherwise risks being merely an idea in our mind, we shall examine in a series of nine Appendices various finer points of detailed interpretation. However, the last two, on prayer (AVIII) and Kantian Christianity (AIX), should be of more general interest.

       My conviction in writing this book is that the theocentric orientation of Kant’s philosophy not only serves the cru­cial philosophical role of unifying, and in a sense even completing, his System, but also pro­vides philosophers and the­ologians with a rich and practicable framework for structuring our thought. The important task of bringing together the philosophical and theological strands in Kant’s System [cf. AV, below] will be facilitated through­out the book by the use of geometrical figures as ‘models’ [see KSP1:I.2 and III.3]; for they convey a clear and pre­cise picture of what might be called a spiritual guiding-thread running through every aspect of his philosophy [cf. Ma68:24 and Kt7:389], forming the very heart of the System. When their signifi­cance is grasped, philosophers and theologians alike should agree that Kant’s System of Perspectives, far from being philosophically in­consistent or theolog­ically aversive, establishes a context that is satisfac­tory for both and can therefore serve as common ground for interdisci­plinary dialogue.

 


 [1]. The meaning of this phrase will be reviewed briefly in III.1, below. For a more detailed account, see the first two chapters of the first volume [hereafter KSP1] in the series that adopts this phrase as its title, of which the present book is volume two [s.e. KSP1:1-11,55-65].

 [2]Ba72:655. Chapman discusses this tradition in some detail. In a section entitled ‘Back to Kant’ [Ch92:480-3] he reports that ‘Troeltsch immersed himself in the study of Kant’ [480], that Ritschl called Kant the ‘first to perceive the supreme importance for ethics of the “Kingdom of God” as an association of men bound together by virtue’ [q.i. 481], and that even Barth ‘learnt at Berne that “all God’s ways begin with Kant and if possible must end there”.’ During this period of German theology [493] ‘Kant ... became an unlikely target and an unlikely weapon in the most violent theological polemics.’ His philosophy ‘was a natural apologetic resource’ [508]. Because Kant had profoundly influenced various nineteenth century theologians who in turn directly influenced such thinkers, Green [Gg93:14] calls Kant ‘the “grandfather” of ... the ecumenical liberalism of the twentieth century.’ MacKinnon surveys Kant’s similar influence on British theologians in Ma90a.

 [3]Cu82:57; s.a. Ma75:141. As we shall see, this common interpretation of Kant’s philosophy as having only negative theological implications is a direct result of the tendency to over-emphasize his theoretical philosophy, especially the first half of Kt1. Hart typifies this when he says ‘Kant freely admits that there is something theological in his theory of sensibility; that is to say, it is a negative doctrine of the noumenon’ [Ha90b:242]. What this ignores is that the positive meaning denied to noumenal reality in Kt1 is given new life in Kt4.

 [4]Gg93:11. The mocking tone of Green’s comment is evident from the context. Green states at the outset [2] that he believes ‘historic Christianity cannot survive’ the interpretation of religion presented in Kt8; its ‘sacrificing of the essential “positivity” of the gospel’ is ‘a price that the church should refuse to pay.’ The question this raises is whether Kant’s philosophy of religion might actually point us to an interpretation of Christianity that really is truer or more promising than what orthodox theologians often defend. Green admits [12] that Kant’s ‘interpreters have not always appreciated the extent to which it is precisely the Christian faith for which he thinks he has made room.’ But this allusion to Kant’s famous claim that the Critical philosophy will ‘make room for faith’ [Kt1:xxx] is taken grossly out of context [see KSP1:V.1-4], rendering it ironically mis­leading. For as we shall see in Part Three, Kt8 defines ‘faith’ as an historical religious tradition based on a set of revealed theoretical truths, as opposed to ‘religion’ as the pure practical (moral) core of a person’s disposition towards God. As such, what Kant is doing in Kt8 is to put aside (i.e., put limitations on) faith in order to make room for religion! That is, his goal is to bring out the true Christian religion that lies within the historical Christian faith.

                My argument, both here and more fully in KSP4, will be that the church need not ‘pay the price’, if it understands Kant’s arguments properly; for Kant’s position is that at this stage in human history pure and empirical reli­gions ought to work hand in hand. Thus I shall attempt to realize the potential Despland af­firms when he says [De73:252] Kant’s ‘philosophy of religion ... could be presented as a Christian phi­los­ophy ... Kant’s thought, in spite of the fact that it does not claim to be a Christian philosophy ... is the one philosophy that best approximates it.’ Earlier Despland rightly calls Kant ‘one of the founders of philosophy of religion in the modern sense’ [12] and commends the applicability of his system to anyone interested in the abiding philosophi­cal problems relating to religion and religious issues.

 [5]Gi37:310. This view was popularized in Germany by Vaihinger [Va81], and in Britain by Kemp Smith [Ke23], both of whom ‘take a Kantian doctrine to be “critical” in proportion as it involves a rejection of the metaphy­sics of Kant's rationalist predecessors’ [Wo78:59]. I demonstrated the inadequacy of this anti-metaphysical interpretive method throughout KSP1, especially in Part Four.

 [6]Pa02:241; s.a. De94:173. After summarizing five common ways of (mis)interpreting Kant [Pa02: 114-8], Paulsen settles on the one that best elucidates the constructive character of Kant’s System, particularly with respect to the validity of believing in a ‘supersensuous world’ of human souls [119-20]. In Chapter II we shall focus in more detail on Kant’s interest in the latter theme.

 [7]Wo78:150. Along these lines, Collins calls Kant’s ‘moral-religious’ rationale for believing in God ‘an existential ... truth’ [Co67:209n] and Davidovich points out that ‘Kant anticipates existentialist thought that finds in sin the mark of the individual’ [Da93a:35].

             In Wo70:2 Wood portrays ‘the critical philosophy itself as a religious outlook, a profound conception of the human condition as a whole, and of man’s proper response to that condition.’ After voicing his agreement with this position [Mi79:21-2], Michalson adds [49] that Kt1 ‘is the foundational step in a religious philosophy, rather than a self-contained epistemologi­cal program.’ Later [166-7], in dialogue with Yovel, he affirms that ‘God’ plays ‘the key metaphysical role ... in Kant’s philosophy.’ (Unfortunately, Yovel interprets this role in an overly anthropo­cen­tric way: ‘At most, God helps us to help ourselves’ [Yo68:103].) Agreeing that ‘[a] religious outlook is doubtless present’ in Kant’s Critical philosophy, McCarthy traces this emphasis back to the German theologian, Hermann Noack [Mc86:57]. Like Wood, he claims that Kant (especially in Kt8) ‘anticipated Bultmann and demythologization ..., as well as Tillich’s existential interpreta­tion of Christianity.... Kant believed that he was uncovering the deeper truths of Christian doctrine’ [69].

           Many other writers aver similar views. Paulsen [Pa02:339] says Kant’s moral theory ‘stands in close connection with ... the original spirit of true Christianity.’ Ward likewise regards Kant’s ethics, at least, as ‘deeply religious’ [Wa72:167]. Quoting Ward [Cr94:134-5], Crosby makes this view even more specific, claiming ‘Kant’s moral theory is deeply influenced by Christianity’ [118]. He traces ‘[f]our fundamental themes’ that reveal just how extensively Kant’s moral theory is ‘rooted in religious presupposi­tions’. Crosby has a number of interesting insights, in spite of his unfortunate neglect of the Coper­nican character of Kant’s thinking. But his overall argument, that the existence of historical influences or developments is sufficient to prove that the theory itself is not ‘pure’, is grossly misplaced. Kant never claims to have created his theory out of thin air, with­out any influences. His rebuttal would be that the truth or falsity of his assertions is based not on these influences, but on the logical and/or transcendental arguments he marshals in their sup­port.

           In Ku85 Kuehn offers a thorough critique of the position supported by Wood in Wo70 and Wo78, by Ward in Wa72, and by Walsh in Wa63a and Wa75:229-241, all of whom ‘consider Kant’s “moral argu­ments” as “an integral part of the critical philosophy’ [Ku85:155, quoting Wo70:9]. Kuehn claims ‘it is highly misleading to say that Kant wanted to justify a “personal” faith’ [Ku85:168]. His main worry is that by ‘interpreting Kant’s rational faith as a personal commitment ..., they turn Kant’s enterprise, which consisted in showing the rationality of religious faith, upside down’ [169]. How­ever, neither of these extremes on its own does full justice to Kant’s intentions, which were indeed to justify a kind of personal faith, but to do so not by appealing to its existential baselessness, but by demonstrating how it is based on impersonal (i.e., objective, rational) grounds. (Kuehn’s inter­pretation of the specific purpose of Kant’s moral argument suffers from some unfortunate difficul­ties, to be discussed further in note IV.15.)

 [8] I shall explain my reasons for avoiding the common phrase ‘pre-Critical’ in II.1.

 [9]. AA10:252(Zw67:95). This claim does not contradict Kant’s assertion in a later letter (1783) that Kt1 ‘is not at all metaphysics ..., but a whole new science ..., the critique of an a priori judging rea­son’ [10.318(102)]. The latter can be regarded as Kant’s explanation of what the phrase ‘meta­physics of metaphysics’ actually means. In Kt69:316 Kant explains that metaphysics proper is ‘the science of proceeding from knowledge of the sensible to that of the supersensible.’ The same order is, in fact, adopted in Kt1, from the Aesthetic to the Dialectic; the difference is that the Dialectic concludes not with knowledge of the supersensible, but with an explanation of why such knowledge is impossible from the theoretical standpoint [see KSP1:VII.3.B].

[10].    See e.g., Om06:188 and Ba72:345. Barth notes that for Kant such ‘rationalism’ refers only to ‘practical reason’ [281]. But even taken in its practical sense such a label is misleading, since (as we shall see) it highlights only one side of Kant’s philosophical interest.

[11].    Ba72:339. For this reason, Werkmeister’s apparent attempt to hide the theological orientation of Kant’s philosophy cannot succeed. Although Kant studied in the theology faculty at the University of Königsberg, Werkmeister says ‘he was interested primarily in the humanities’ [We80:1, e.a.], quoting Borowski (Kant’s official biographer) as saying: ‘Theological investiga­tions of whatever kind ... did not interest him.’ The latter fact, however, is irrelevant to the point I shall make about Kant’s philosophy. I regard Kant not as a closet theologian, but rather as a philosopher who constructed a System with a basically theocentric orientation. It does not follow from a person’s lack of interest in reading theology as such that the person is therefore not interested in doing philosophy in a theocentric way. Along these lines, Loades aptly acknowledges Kant’s ‘sensitive appreciation of the Lutheran tradition’ [Lo81:298]; for ‘although in some ways a humanist par excellence, Kant was far from hostile to religious belief.’ Indeed, his philosophy presents ‘one of the forms of theism compatible with humanism.’ Alluding to a famous quote from Goethe [see note VI.25, below], she adds [306] that, even in his humanism, Kant's ‘philosopher’s cloak bears the stains if not the stench of theism.’

                Shortly before completing the manuscript for this volume I came across a recent book that appears to defend precisely the point rejected above. Using the term ‘closet theologian’ in the very subtitle, Galbraith argues that Kant’s approach in Kt8 should be regarded as that of a theologian rather than a philosopher [Ga96:62-7]. My position is that Kant never intends to be a biblical the­ologian, inside or outside of his ‘closet’; but if ‘theologian’ includes what he calls a philo­sophical theologian, then Kant adopts this Perspective openly in Kt8. So Galbraith’s claim is misleading for two reasons: she downplays Kant’s all-important qualifying term, ‘philosophical’; and her term ‘closet’ wrongly implies that Kant was hiding or covering up his true intentions. Nevertheless, she is correct to assert that Kant’s ‘preoccupation ... with belief in God went far beyond his moral argu­ments’ to the point of ‘actively engaging in theology’ [Ga96:xiii-xiv], that in Kt8 he was to a large extent ‘advocating his own theology’ as ‘an apologist for belief in God’ [xv] and as himself ‘a believ­er’ [e.g., 51], and that in Kt9 ‘God ... becomes the key to his entire philosophy’ [vi]. One goal of the present book is to put meat on the bones of such claims, while showing that Kant’s theo­centric orientation does not prevent his philosophy from remaining thoroughly philosophical.

[12].    Manolesco observes that ‘God was [Kant’s] major problem’—a problem he seems to have been ‘destined’ by his very name (i.e., Immanuel, meaning ‘God with us’) to carry with him throughout his life [Ma69:28]. Manolesco continues: ‘Even in historical philosophy Kant had no doubt that this concept of God was indispensable as the ultimate ground of all reality’ and that we are ‘compelled to posit a real object corresponding to the Idea.’ We shall see the extent to which this is the case in the fourth volume of this series, Kant’s Critical Politics [KSP4].

                MacKinnon reaches a similar conclusion, claiming Kant was aware ‘of the need of Christian faith always to be theocentric’ [Ma90a:358]. If Despland is correct to say ‘Kant believed himself to be a Christian’ [De73:246; s.a. 251-2], or McCarthy, that ‘Kant would personally consider himself a Christian’ [Mc82:204] or White, that ‘Kant’s starting point is within the Christian tradition’ [Wh90:4]—and I believe each is entirely accurate—then MacKinnon’s comment implies that Kant’s own world view was theocentric. I have gone one step further than MacKinnon, though, by claiming not just Kant’s view of Christianity, but his entire System to be theocentric.

[13].    A widely accepted caricature of Kant sees him as an agnostic deist, concerned only with a fanci­ful concept of God as nothing but an abstract idea of reason, a concept that is then criti­cized as dry, theologically uninteresting (or even repugnant), and scientifically untenable. Several scholars, most notably Wood, Collins, and Despland, have done much to dispel this misconception. Wood interprets Kant’s theology as ‘rich, precise, philosophically sophisticated’ [Wo78:151; s.a. Wo70:164]. Despland asserts that ‘Kant’s doctrine of God ... is the most important part of his doctrinal metaphysics’ [De73:135]. Although in Co67 Collins re­tracts his own previous assess­ment of Kant’s theology as entirely destructive [see Co60a:183], even in Co60a he had suggested that Kant’s ‘preoccupation with the problem of God’ [166] results in the fact that ‘his stand on God partly determined his philosophical position at any given stage’ in his development [162]. By placing Kant’s theology in its proper philosophical context I shall attempt in the present volume to further this recent trend by eradicating once and for all the mis­taken caricature mentioned above.

[14].    This will be argued more fully in Part Four, below. For now, it is sufficient to note with approval Rossi’s point [Ro89:370] that Kant’s philosophy of religion deals with issues that are ‘central to the unity and the coherence of the overall Kantian critical project.’

[15].    Perhaps it is not without reason that Niebuhr calls Kant ‘that philosopher who is most Protestant of all philosophers’ [Ni70:116; s.a. Cr94:128; Wo70:127-8]—though I would add that, despite his reputation as ‘the philosopher of Protestantism’ [Ch92:481; Gg93:1; Ma90a:350], Kant could also be regarded as the most Catholic of all philosophers! (The relevance of Catholic theology to Kant is affirmed in Gg93:2 and Ma90a:351.) As we shall see in Part Three, his protest against false religion is more radical than that of most Protestants, yet his affirmation of the universality (i.e., ‘catholicity’) of all true religion is more unreserved than that of most Catholics.

[16].    Kt1:xxxi; s.a. 781-2. Kant makes a similar remark to Herz as early as 1773, when he confides: ‘I reveal to no one but you: the hope that by means of this work [i.e., Kt1] philosophy will be given a durable form, a differ­ent and—for religion and morality—more favorable turn’ [AA10:137(Zw67:78); s.a. En29:79]. Earlier still, in the preface to Kt43, Kant reveals the importance he placed on the consistency of his own ideas with religion when he stresses his confidence in the ‘harmony ... between my system [of cosmogony] and religion’ [222(82)].

                An emphasis on the centrality of the ‘ideas of reason’ (especially God) might appear to contradict a remark Kant makes in a famous letter to Garve (1798): ‘It was not the investigation of the existence of God, immortality, and so on, but rather the antinomy of pure reason ... that ... first aroused me from my dogmatic slumber and drove me to the critique of reason itself, in order to resolve the scandal of ostensible contradic­tion of reason with itself’ [AA12:255(Zw67:99n)]. But if we remember that Kant is here making an assertion about his own historical development, not about the essential nature of meta­physics or of his own philosophy, then the discrepancy disappears. The antinomies may have been the historical occasion for Kant conceiving of the idea of a Critique of reason, but when he finally carries it out, he does so by directing the focus of the System itself to the task of under­standing the proper place of the three (theologically oriented) ideas of reason. It is relevant to note here that in a much earlier letter to Garve (1783) Kant explains that the solution to the problem of the antinomies ‘consists in this: that all objects that are given to us can be interpreted in two ways: on the one hand, as appearances; on the other hand, as things in themselves’ [AA10:320n(Zw67:103n)]. In other words, the key he discovered entailed the proper implementation of what I have called Kant’s ‘principle of perspective’ [see KSP1:II.1].

[17].    Kt4:119-121. Paulsen portrays this ‘doctrine of the primacy of the practical reason’ as ‘the coping-stone of the Kantian philosophy’ [Pa02:341]. Although the importance of this doctrine is well recognized in the literature, few commentators realize it is not so much an absolute doctrine as an expression of the principle by which the judicial standpoint adjudicates conflicts between the other two. The judicial standpoint, as we saw in KSP1:AII, just is the standpoint of Critique as such; it ‘is the keystone of the architectonic’ [Fe90:106]. In issues where a potential conflict arises between the practical and theoretical standpoints, the doctrine of ‘primacy’ stipulates that the practical standpoint is to be given more weight than the theoretical. But it does so without compromising the fact that the judicial is the middle way that characterizes all Critique. ‘Practical reason has primacy over theoretical’, therefore, means ‘an explanation directed towards our moral experience carries more weight than an explanation directed towards speculation’ [cf. Fig. IX.2 of KSP1].

[18].    Gr34:lxxvii-lxxviii (Greene’s brackets). Copleston’s description of ‘transcendent meta­physics’ as ‘the expression of a religious quest’ [Co74:9] applies equally well to Kant’s nontranscendent, Critical metaphysics. For as we shall see in X.2-3, ‘Kant was a profoundly religious man’ [Ra63:vii; s.a. Re88:2]. Reardon adds ‘in his own moralistic way’ [2], but Axelsen [Ax89:312] clarifies: ‘Kant al­ways saw his philosophical task as fostering faith, not merely as identifying the demands of duty.

[19].    Michalson is correct to say Kant’s epistemology is neither theistic nor atheistic [Mi79:40-1]. Unfortunately, he does not acknowledge that Kant’s metaphysics is theistic none the less.

[20].    In KSP1:X.2 I expressed this balance by saying Kant’s metaphysics is theocentric even though ‘The Critical philosophy on its own .. is anthro­pocentric.’ This could be misleading, because the theocentric focus actually takes precedence in the Dialectic of each Critique, not only in the properly metaphysical works. It is still appropriate, however, inasmuch as the Dialectic is the section of each Critique that deals explicitly with the metaphysical ideas.

[21].    The architectonic structure of the chapters constituting the present volume is intended to correspond, more or less directly, to that of the chapters in KSP1. In both cases Chapter I is introductory, Chapter II presents some groundbreaking textual analysis, Chapter III outlines the architectonic plan, Chapter IV sets up the basic conceptual framework, Chapter V examines what results for those who take a step of faith, Chapter VI foreshadows Part Three by showing the relation between some of its central terms, Chapters VII-IX detail the elements of the system(s), and Chapters X-XII discuss metaphysical/mystical implications of the first nine chapters.

 


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