Metodología aplicada

The problem of resolving the inconsistency between the three claims is relevant for those moral theorists who feel answerable to the claim that we ought to be the best that we can be, recognize that doing so is impossible, and think that ought implies can.

The second claim is quite plausible: that we can at no point be all that we can be. Moral perfection is something we are confident is out of our grasp, even if we can imagine ourselves being morally perfect. It is easy to recognize all the ways in which we are imperfect or limited. Yet those limitations also show where improvement or perfection might be possible—and we feel that such possibilities would be a very good thing. As a result, we feel the force of the demand to use our moral capacities to their fullest extent. The Bible, for example, calls us to “be perfect” (Matthew 5:48). Kant was concerned with a version of this problem (R 6:61). He was dedicated to claim (1): that we should “be all that we can be” as moral agents. So he responded

I and my circumstances are relevantly like they are now). This seems to capture what is involved in deathbed wishes where we had hoped to have changed certain things about our lives.

to the puzzle by denying (2), even though it is what most of us think is the most plausible claim. Kantians, as a result, have spent a great deal of time re-examining and responding to this puzzle as a result.

Kant’s moral views are familiar, yet an exposition may help us understand in what sense and why he thought we must ‘be all that we could be’. Agents such as ourselves, to act fully rationally, would act on objective and necessary principles captured by the various formulations of the Categorical Imperative. We can be obligated by practical reason to act on these

principles—that is, they constrain us—even while our actions on behalf of the moral law are

autonomous (i.e., we freely govern ourselves according to universal laws that we can set for

ourselves) (G 4:447-8). This is because of a characteristic feature of rational agency: we are able to freely set laws for ourselves. If we choose to abide by the moral law, then we can be governed by the law yet not give up our claims to be free agents (G 4:400). Even though an agent may be tempted to act otherwise, she has a good will when she has a fundamental commitment or firm intention to do her duty because it is what she ought to do (MM 6:379-80).59

A person who has a good will (a fundamental commitment to do her duty because it is her duty), however, may have a weak will. A virtuousperson has a will that is not only good but is also strong—making her capable of resisting other, countervailing motivations that threaten to override her moral motivation (MM 6:380, 6:405; LE Mrongrovius 29:627, Hill and Zweig 41).60 Ordinary agents are subject to an internal conflict between our motivation to do our duty and our motivation to act in ways that would fulfill our ordinary wants and desires. To

59 _{We might be curious about whether one could use strength of soul for a negative end—i.e., I have a strong will to}

do ill. Kant seems to think not; that crimes are caused by the force of inclination (MM 6:384).

60 _{The source of an agent’s strength of will to fulfill their duty comes from their capacity to reason (MM 6:405).}

become virtuous—which Kant says we ought to do—we must cultivate our will so we can abide by our fundamental commitment to morality.

Thus, the Kantian version of “be all that you can be” is directed towards recognizing that as rational agents, each of us has the capacity to have both a good and strong will. Kant tells us that our responsibility is to become virtuous, a version of claim (1). He also believed claim (3), that ought implies can (R 6:50).61 And that left him with a problem. After all, he recognized all the weight of the evidence that we should keep premise (2).

Kant discussed the evidence supporting claim (2) in two ways. First, our moral

imperfection means that in at least some (and perhaps many) instances, we in fact will not do our duty. Kant acknowledged that we know that we are unable to achieve moral perfection in a human lifetime. Our everyday experiences prove that we are imperfect beings: we are impatient, unkind, lazy, stupid, rude, obnoxious, and so on. Even those who usually conduct themselves well relapse into less admirable behaviors. It is hard to reconcile ourselves to the possibility of always doing the right thing—our track records are already marred, and we don’t anticipate that we will become perfectly good people (R 6:29). So if we don’t think moral perfection is possible for us, it means that in some of the cases in which we have tried or will try to do our duty, we will be incapable of doing so.62

Second, our lack of transparency to ourselves casts doubt on our motivations. Kant also noted that even in cases where we think that we are doing the right thing, we could be misled about our own intentions. As he writes, “the depths of the human heart are unfathomable” (MM 6:447; see also MM 6:393, G 4:406; C1 A551/B579; R 6:51). We might have convinced

61 _{Of course, contemporary discussions of ‘ought implies can’ suggest an incredible amount of complexity to how we}

should understand this topic.

ourselves that we have assisted someone because it was our duty—but in truth, we may have been motivated by our own advantage.

Yet if moral perfection is impossible, period, Kant cautions that we are in trouble. We’re performing a fool’s errand in trying to always do our duty over the course of our lifetimes. Kant’s argument goes something like this: rational agency requires that if we intend to act on an end, it should be possible to realize this end. We have a duty to do our duty at every instance. If moral perfection were impossible, then the moral law would be directed at something that is impossible. Morality then would be setting us a duty to promote a state of affairs that our experiences in the world suggest is a mere fantasy—an “empty imaginary end” (C2 5:114; see also C1 A813/B841, R 6:47-8). It would thus cast doubt on what we intend to do—to do our duty—and make us suspect that the moral law is false (C2 5:113).

Of course, simply because I ought to do something each time, that does not mean that I ought to do something every time. A basketball player may feel she should make a basket every time she shoots, but reasonably not take herself to ought to have made every basket she’s ever attempted. Morality, however, is a different kind of project than basketball. Its demand hits us both distributively and collectively. This is obvious for our perfect duties, when if we fail we wrong someone. It is less obvious for our imperfect duties, but as Baron and similar thinkers in the last chapter prove, we should take ourselves as needing to push ourselves to be beneficent (and so on), even if it may not be morally required to do so in a particular instance.63

So Kant needed a way to reject (2), despite all the evidence for it. Kant thinks that we do not have empirical reason to believe that we will ever be able to be morally perfect (R 6:67). Yet

63 _{In other words, persisting with claim (1) should speak to readers who had the intuition that I dismissed Baron’s}

we need to believe that we have this capacity. If we cannot achieve the task we are set, Kant says, “the unavoidable consequence of a rational estimate of [the moral worth of] our natural state is a feeling of hopelessness” (R 6:71; also see 6:184-5). His solution, however, is

controversial. Kant answers this problem by saying that moral faith can certify our confidence that we can do what is right and that we have moral worth (R 6:45, 6:71-2).64