5 April 2003
Dear Andrew,
For my final piece of writing, I have decided, in the tradition of Virginia Woolf, to stray from the monotony of the standard collegiate essay and employ the epistolary style, for I feel that the form of the letter better serves to create continuity, or familiarity, between reader and writer. Thus, to invoke the wisdom of my aforesaid predecessor, if “without someone warm and breathing on the other side of the page, letters are worthless” (Three Guineas 3), then in a discussion on the value, or lack thereof, of moralistic theories in our contemporary civilization, it seems to me that in order to avoid having my time spent here rendered worthless, I have no choice but to write in that style, albeit often unpleasant and haphazard, which is most conducive to the establishment of such familiarity.
Of the many diverse considerations on morality studied this past year, I have chosen the two that I found most compelling – Kant’s Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals and Nietzsche’s On the Genealogy of Morals – to consider, compare, and contrast in some depth. Upon the first reading of these texts, I was overcome by a feeling of déjà vu. It seemed to me that like the diametric opposition discovered between the arguments of Descartes and Hobbes regarding the justification for belief in the Christian God, the equally insightful ideas of Kant and Nietzsche would also end up diametrically opposed, and the attribution of value to either would entail a full denial of value in the other. Yet, upon a rereading of the texts and by looking beyond the particularities of the arguments for commonalties between them, I have, to my utmost delight, come to the conclusion that the goals of both and the imminent problems of which both were crafted to address do in fact have much in common, both becoming valuable in their own right, and in relation to one another.
Therefore, to provide some structure to my ramblings, I will explain first the arguments of Kant and Nietzsche and why within them I saw a new rendition of the aforementioned Descartes-Hobbes conflict, then how this new rendition deteriorated in light of the philosophers’ mutually reinforcing end goals, and ultimately, how I believe their ideas on ‘morality’ come together and teach us lessons of the greatest value.
Just as Rene Descartes attempted to necessarily prove the existence of God through reason – and therefore, validate the universal authority of Christian morality – Kant employed an entirely a priori argument for ‘grounding’ morality in reason, derived the idea of a categorical imperative, and once again defined morality in terms of universal laws. Kant’s categorical imperative can be formulated as such: Always act in such a way that you can also will that the maxim of your action should become a universal law. To unravel this last sentence, take, for instance, the act of lying.
For lying to become moral for one person at one time, the categorical imperative would logically entail that lying also become moral for every person at all times. Of course, no one would ever will the universal employment of lies, for then, as lying would become expected, his individual lie would no longer assist him in getting what he wants. Thus, in all circumstances, the act of lying is immoral. The categorical imperative (unlike the hypothetical) makes action an end in itself; in other words, action must no longer have ulterior motives if it is to be moral. By dismissing the empirical world and the utility of actions from the discussion of morality, Kant asserts that each man becomes alike through his ability to reason, abides by the moral laws he simultaneously coauthors, and ultimately becomes an end in himself. Thus, like Descartes, Kant maintains that through reason, moral laws are universally discovered.
However, Nietzsche criticizes the universality of these aforementioned moral theories. He does not accept the notion that morality is ‘grounded’ in reason; instead, like Hobbes, he maintains that all concepts, including the concept of morality, are based in the human construction of language. As languages and meanings of words vary in accordance with their varied creators, ‘morality’ – a construct of language - can only be known in a relative sense. For instance, originally the word ‘good’ means different things for different people. “The noble, powerful, high-stationed, and high-minded” people of society label themselves and their actions as good, whereas “all low, low-minded, common and plebian” (Nietzsche 26) people become associated with the word ‘bad.’ In contrast, motivated by their resentment of the strong (men who are good in themselves), society’s weak unify, collectively associate the naturally strong with the word ‘evil,’ and base their morality (which Nietzsche calls slave morality) on a hostile external world, where the concepts of ‘goodness’ and ‘morality’ become synonymous with all that is “unegoistic”- pity, self-abnegation, self-sacrifice, etc.
Slave morality becomes predominant, and the moral laws and ideas that we now unquestionably accept and argue that reason logically entails (i.e. Kant) are based in cruelty, as shown by Nietzsche’s historical examination of morals. Nietzsche says, “Not even good old Kant: the categorical imperative smells of cruelty” (65). Just as Hobbes criticized Descartes’ inability to remove the Christian definition of God in his rational explication of the ‘cause’ of ideas greater than one’s self, Nietzsche maintains that Kant’s universal moral laws are not derived from pure reason, but from a slave morality deeply ingrained in his experience and the society in which he resides.
Thus, I felt that in light of Nietzsche’s criticisms, I would have to reconsider the value I attributed to Kant’s categorical imperative, just as Hobbes made me reconsider and ultimately reject the value I attributed to Descartes’ scientific proof for the existence of God. I felt that perhaps I was destined to forever remain “only a cripple in a cave” (Three Guineas72). However, beyond their argumentative differences, I have come to feel that both Kant and Nietzsche are promoting the same end. Both are attempting to reconnect the concept of ‘morality’ with the means by which this word came into existence: Humanity.
In Kant, for instance, the idea that I feel comes to the forefront of his argument, in stark contrast to that of Descartes, is the idea of autonomy. No longer is ‘God’ the ultimate legislator regulating action and demanding obedience and uniformity. Man himself becomes the ultimate legislator, only required to abide by the moral laws that he himself has authored. Kant makes man refocus on himself, and argues that any action that dehumanizes him, or no longer recognizes him as the ultimate end, is entirely removed from morality.
In the same way, Nietzsche contends that the moral theories of his time, especially as manifested in organized religion, have moved man in the wrong direction – away from himself. In the first sentence of his preface, Nietzsche writes, “We are unknown to ourselves, we men of knowledge – and with good reason. We have never sought ourselves – how could it happen that we should ever find ourselves” (15)? I believe that like Kant’s Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals, or even like Freud’sCivilization and its Discontents, Nietzsche’s On the Genealogy of Morals is a means by which we as men can rediscover ourselves after many years under the dominion of authoritative moral theories, where man has been deemed subordinate to what I believe is nothing more than a construct of his own imagination: The concept of God. Nietzsche argues that moral systems based on a slave morality – i.e. Judaism and Christianity – have made man say “No to life and to himself” (19). Regarding this rejection by man of life and of himself, Nietzsche says,
“It was precisely here that I saw the greatest danger to mankind, its sublimest enticement and seduction – but to what? to nothingness? – it was precisely here that I saw the beginning of the end, the dead stop, a retrospective weariness, the will turning against life, the tender and sorrowful signs of the ultimate illness…” (19).
For both Kant and Nietzsche, mankind needs to once again embrace itself, treat itself as the ultimate end, and no longer view itself as a means to another, greater end, one that has consistently been so improvable that to maintain belief and ensure ‘salvation,’ even the most brilliant of men have had to forego their own reason and become reliant upon blind faith. Kant expresses the dichotomy between his formulation of morality and that of organized religion best when he says, comparing religious morality to his own and elaborating upon the danger inherent in removing an active reason from the discussion:
“Nevertheless it is better than the theological concept, whereby morality is derived from a divine and most perfect will. It is better not merely because we cannot intuit divine perfection but can only derive it from our own concepts, among which morality is foremost; but also because if it is not so derived (…), then the only remaining concept of God’s will is drawn from such characteristics as desire for glory and dominion combined with such frightful representations as those of might and vengeance” (47).
The dehumanization of mankind, in the name of morality, is precisely the aforementioned imminent problem that the arguments of both Kant and Nietzsche so passionately strive to address, thus bringing there previously ‘diametrically opposed’ ideologies into an intimate union. Their theories become unified in their similar rejection of religion in an attempt to rediscover man, as nicely expressed by the words of Nietzsche: “Atheism and a second innocence belong together” (91).
Thus, I have come to agree with both Kant and Nietzsche. I feel that when people are denied their humanity for a ‘greater end,’ they inevitably meet a lesser one. When we view war in terms of its ends and not its means, and forget the pictures of “the same dead bodies, the same ruined houses,” and that “war is an abomination; a barbarity” (Woolf 11), then in the name of morality, albeit a pseudo-morality, we become the immoral beasts that we so adamantly proclaim to be fighting against. We speak of the liberation of a people upon whom we drop our bombs and forget afterwards. And in the end, by overtly disrespecting the humanity of these men and others, we begin to lose our own, becoming strangers to ourselves – the ultimate illness of mankind and detriment to its future.
Therefore, Andrew, as my letter to you comes to a close, I want to reiterate why I felt that it was only appropriate that your question be addressed in this manner. I feel that all too often humanity is lost in the midst of abstraction and objectivity. Therefore, I have attempted to establish a feeling of intimacy between us, attempted to remind you that behind these words lies a man, or a person in the process of becoming one, who wants to become known to himself. This class has awakened me, exposed me to the absurdities predominant in our contemporary civilization, and I hope placed me on a nobler and more fulfilling path. In the end, I don’t care about my grade, my ‘Columbia’ degree, or my future salary, but I care about this moment, like the two moments that preceded it, as I finished my readings of both Kant and Nietzsche, when I felt that finally, I was starting to see this world with some clarity. I’ll end this letter as I began it, invoking the words of Virginia Woolf (slightly rephrased), and by doing so, call it a night and a semester:
“Now since you are pressed for time, let me make an end; apologising three times over to you, first for the length of this letter, second for the smallness of the contribution, and thirdly for writing at all. The blame for that however rests upon you, for this letter would never have been written had you not asked for an answer to your question” (Three Guineas 144).
With the utmost sincerity,
Ben Supple
