Kantian Deontology

For Kant, the morally right thing to do is categorical, not hypothetical.

A hypothetical requirement involves an "if." If I want to be good at logic, I should practice and study regularly. There is no general, or categorical, demand that I be good at logic. Instead, my sense of obligation about logic stems from my desire to succeed. A categorical imperative is a simple demand, like "You must not cheat."

Kantians insist that moral rules, like the one against cheating, are not hypothetical. It does not say that if you don't want to be embarrassed, don't cheat. That would a hypothetical imperative, or hypothetical command, one that involves some external motivation. Since Kant has taken all externals from morality, moral commands must be categorical.This previous sentence is a key to understanding Kant.

We are getting a little closer. (I told you it would be roundabout.) Acting morally involves acting not out of a personal motive, but acting in accord with a categorical command, a moral command, such as “Do not cheat.” But what are the correct moral commands? Is “Do not cheat” a proper part of a deontology morality. Why is it proper? And if so, what else should be included?

A good will is not oriented to externals; morality is not about externals. Morality is about categorical commands that we ought to follow simply because doing so is the right thing. Here comes Kant's genius, and the part of his theory that many people, including me, find difficult to follow. He seems to have robbed morality of all content. Morality is not about happiness, pride, self-fulfillment, care, devotion, etc. What is it about? Nothing but following moral laws expressed in categorical imperatives.

His moral laws seem to have no content. What are the correct moral laws, and how are they established? There is nothing left but …. Moral laws. Kant gets the answer, and brings content into his theory, by examining the nature of a moral law.

A proper law is universally binding: it applies to everyone or everything. That is what it means to be a law. A morally good action is done out of respect for the moral law, solely because it is a proper moral law and not for any other reason.

This provides Kant the needed clue. All actions ought to be done that are required by a moral law, while all those actions forbidden by a moral law should not be done. What do we know about laws? The one thing we know about laws is that they lay down universal requirements. The command is universal. Everyone ought to follow it if it is a moral law. It must be that they can be followed by everyone, required of everyone.

Some actions cannot be thought of as required by a moral law because they cannot be universally required. Others can. This is it. (About time.) It gives content to moral law. We know something about the requirements of a moral rule. It must be universally binding.

Now to the payoff. (Didn’t I already say that?) The test of a moral obligation is surprisingly simple, and flows directly, or at least Kant thought, from what we said in the previous paragraph.

Ask whether your action can be made into a universal moral law. If it can, the action is permitted. If it cannot, you must not do it.

The law must be universal because all features about you or me are external to moral rules. The only proper moral question is whether an act is permitted by the moral law. Since a law must be universal, if something is not permitted by the moral law, then no one should perform that action.

If you are saying, “Big deal,” think of this. The test of whether something is morally permitted involves universalizing an action, getting rid of all specifics about our situation, to determine whether the moral law permits it. This test ends up being surprising powerful. It is Kant’s first principle.

The categorical imperative is his main principle:

Can I consistently will that my action be made into a universal law?

The question is not whether I want such a law. That involves external considerations. The question is about whether a universal law guiding the action is consistent.

Suppose I find myself in a circumstance where a lie saves considerable trouble and makes all parties, especially me, happier. Morally speaking, am I permitted to lie? Kant proposes that we answer this question by applying his test; his categorical imperative. This means we consider turning our action into a universal law: All people should lie.

Is this a consistent law? The law tells people to lie. Is it consistent to have such a law? It doesn’t matter whether you or I want the law. Does it make sense to have such a law?

If any of you ever were acquainted with a person who chronically or pathologically lies, you know that you no longer believe anything that person says. Or at least you shouldn’t. Lies become ineffective. A lie works when people expect the truth. If everyone followed the law and lied, no one would be able to tell a believable lie. A liar makes an exception of himself or herself. For a Kantian, willingness to make oneself an exception is the mark of immorality. We conclude that telling a lie cannot be made into a universal law and so is always morally forbidden. A lie is only possible when people generally expect the truth. If everyone lied, no one would expect the truth. Kant's moral theory as a philosophical interpretation of the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. (Don’t worry if that isn’t exactly the golden rule.)

Think about this sentence from the previous paragraph: “If everyone followed the law and lied, no one would be able to tell a believable lie.”

Kant rejects consequentialism. Is the above statement about a lie a consequentialist judgment? If so, then maybe Kant isn’t a deontologist. Is the statement about actual consequences? Not really. Not at all. It is about consequences if everyone lied. That doesn’t happen. Most of us, most of the time, tell the truth. Anyway, at least lots of the time. (Maybe too many people think people are telling the truth, like college teachers and medical professionals. Police officers think everyone is lying.)

Kant is not appealing to consequences of our actions. Not even broadly considered consequences. He is asking a hypothetical question. (Consider, when we get to it, if this is really a rule utilitarian position. That will be in a week or so, so maybe you should put a not in your calendar saying that you should come back to this when we cover rule utilitarianism. Remind me if you do, because I’ll probably forget.)

Here is what to do. Consider what you want to do. Make the action into the basis for a moral law. Ask whether it makes sense to have such a law. Don’t ask whether you want such a law; that is not the point. Is such a law inconsistent? Does it lead to disaster?

Kant has a second principle closely related to the first, maybe a version of the first. We will look at it in the next section.