Moral Agency as Cognitive Agency:
Recovering Kant’s Conception of Virtue
Jessica Tizzard·
University of Connecticut, USA
Review
of: Merritt, M., Kant on Reflection and
Virtue, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2018, 219 pp. ISBN
978-1-108-42471-4.
The aim of Merritt’s exceptional book is to offer a
sustained and unified account of Kant’s conception of reflection, a conception
that in turn reveals his account of virtue as a concretely engaged,
world-directed skill. Such a revelation will no doubt be a surprise to many. It
is, of course, well-established that Kant thinks reason and the capacity to
reflect is foundational to moral agency and the possibility of virtue. But the
question remains, how should we understand the transformative role that rational
reflection plays in the lives of those who possess the capacity to engage and
develop it? Merritt’s analysis deftly reveals the shortcomings involved in
framing reason as the ability to austerely “step back” and direct one’s
attention to the abstract principles that speak for or against one’s way of
acting. What this picture lacks, in her view, “is when and how this reflective
capacity is to be engaged, and to what end” (15). A widespread failure to
recognize that Kant’s view of practical reason is deeply concerned with these
questions has led to the misappropriation of his philosophy, especially as it
relates to virtue. On closer inspection, Kant’s account of the proper use of
reason reveals that the requirement to reflect is not discharged through separate
acts of reflection—over and above our
everyday practical attention—but rather through conducting this attention reflectively. This requirement is thus
met “in adverbial fashion: it is met by considering how things are in the right spirit” (72).
With
this approach, Merritt’s book is in a good position to make sense of a number
of difficult and important passages from the Doctrine of Virtue in the Metaphysics of Morals. Her textual
foundations reach well beyond this locale, creating a holistic vision of Kant’s
system that draws from all three Critiques,
the Anthropology, the Jäsche Logic, and well beyond. But her
ultimate focus is the argument, advanced through what she calls the specification thesis, that moral virtue
is cognitive virtue considered in its practical species (113). The book thus
builds towards the claim that moral virtue is skillfully engaged practical
cognitive activity, activity grounded in “the capacity to recognize what
morality requires of one and the readiness to be moved by this recognition”
(152). In addition to giving a sense of what readers can expect from Merritt’s
book on the whole, my aim is to explore the way this claim marks a significant
contribution to literature on the Doctrine of Virtue and Kant’s conception of
good moral character more generally.
The
significance of reflection and the knowledge at which it aims
Merritt
insists that Kant conceives of reflection, and by extension virtue, “in
resolutely cognitivist terms,” adding that “it is in the interest of knowing,
and that alone, that we ought to be reflective” (208). While it could seem as
though this reaffirms the conception of reason focused around lofty abstract
goals, in fact this characterization is meant to direct us towards Kant’s
insistence that knowing the world
involves being in touch with objects in the theoretically-laden, robust Kantian
sense of the term. To have knowledge that is by nature objective, is to have used one’s cognitive capacities to grasp how
things truly are, rather than how they merely seem to be in light of one’s
subjective situation. One of Merritt’s most intricate, book-spanning arguments
is that Kant thinks we cannot obtain such knowledge without being interested in
cultivating how we actively attend to and engage with the world. Whether the
object of knowing is a theoretical science like physics (130), tracking how
things are with every-day items like pieces of clothing (89-90), a technical
skill like playing tennis (168-9), or a moral duty like tending to one’s
parents’ happiness (192), being a good knower requires developing the capacity
to properly attend to the determinate particulars at issue. One of the most
impressive aspects of Merritt’s work is her persuasive argument that, for Kant,
this is an incredibly complex task that requires much more agency than it might
seem.
To
get a sense of how reflection figures in this aspect of Kant’s view, Merritt
introduces a distinction between constitutive and normative forms of reflection
in Chapter 1 (16). Each of these answers to basic requirements on thinking,
with a distinction drawn between those constitutive requirements (reflection-c)
“without which there could be no employment of the understanding—no thinking—at
all” (23), and those normative requirements (reflection-n) that are “necessary
to make good use of our cognitive capacities” (23).
Reflection-c
speaks to the unifying, synthetic activity of the understanding expressed most
serenely through Kant’s account of the transcendental unity of apperception in
the Transcendental Deduction (B132). On Merritt’s description, “one ‘reflects’
in this sense simply by having some tacit handle on oneself as the source of a
point of view” (18). The full complexity involved in achieving the sort of
reflection expressed through the “I think”—as a source of synthetic unity that
captures a point of view on the world—is explored more fully in Chapter 3, one
of the most difficult and rewarding parts of the book. There, Merritt argues
that we neglect Kant’s rich account of the engaged intellect if we think of
this reflective activity as primarily sub-agential (95). Working with important
passages from the first Critique and Anthropology, Merritt poses a plausible
and well-argued alternative to the view that the principles constitutive of
experience should be understood as background conditions that enable the
passive perception of objects.[1] Drawing
on recent literature on the nature of attention, Merritt explores the Kantian
version of a developmental account of human consciousness. Its culmination is
the claim that the synthetic activity of reflection-c must be implicated in the
way one actively attends to one’s perception: “my agency infiltrates empirical
consciousness, which gives me a whole over which my attention can run, more or
less freely” (95). She notes, for example, that “it takes attention to so much
as divide empirical consciousness into a foreground and a background” (98).
This simple activity draws on the agent’s capacity for reflection-c insofar as
the foreground one is attending to is understood to be part of some wider
synthetic whole (99). Through this account, Merritt delivers a compelling and
relatable version of the Kantian thesis that in thinking about objects, we
cannot abstract from the activity of the subject. To perceive as a rational
being capable of reflection is, minimally, to engage the cognitive capacities
that are constitutive of a world of objects in the robust Kantian sense
implicated by the Copernican Revolution marking his critical turn. On Merritt’s
view, this engagement happens at the level of active attention that carefully
selects the part(s) of a synthesized whole relevant to what the agent seeks to
know or do.
In
addition to these baseline requirements on thinking, reflection-n speaks to the
norms guiding the proper use of the cognitive capacities implicated in
reflection-c. They are what enable one to achieve an objective point of view on how things are, one that demonstrates a
well-used understanding free from prejudice and inconsistency. When Kant says
that “all judgments require reflection” (A261/B317), Merritt claims he has
reflection-n in mind. While judging could not take place at all without the
basic activity constitutive of cognitive agency highlighted by reflection-c, a
judgment requires reflection-n if it is to meet its implicit aim of giving an
objective take on how things are or should be. In Chapter 2, Merritt directs
her reader towards the three maxims of ‘healthy human understanding’ (gesunder Menschenverstand) articulated
in the third Critique and the Anthropology, arguing that Kant’s
conception of reflection-n is best analyzed into these commands (54). They are:
“To think for oneself,” “to think in the position of another, or: to think in
the position of everyone else,” and “to think always consistently with oneself”
(55). Each maxim picks out a different aspect of what it is to think well in
one’s orientation towards the world, and they jointly represent the virtuous
knowing subject as someone who takes responsibility for the agency implicit to
thought itself by aiming towards a systematic body of knowledge. In later
chapters, Merritt describes this interest as a general “respect for truth” that
all cognitive agents must cultivate (156).
There
is undoubtedly much to value in Merritt’s account of reflection-n and the three
maxims. As one of the most accessible parts of the book, it should stand as a
resource for virtue epistemologists looking to engage with the Kantian
perspective—one which is oft-neglected in favour of Aristotelian accounts. That
said, the most striking aspect of Merritt’s account of reflection-n is how she
builds on it to argue her view that virtuous cognitive activity should be
understood as a concretely engaged world-directed skill. One could easily
co-opt the three maxims for the ‘stepping-back’ conception of reason, but from
Chapter 3 onwards Merritt constructs a very different reading, beginning with
her impressive conception of reflection-c and its involvement in the attentive
perception constitutive of our everyday experience. It is to this reading in
application to specifically moral virtue that I now turn.
Moral
virtue as cognitive virtue
There
are two main features of Merritt’s cognitivist view of Kantian moral virtue
worth highlighting to show the significance of her account. The first is its
aforementioned emphasis on virtue as an engaged world-directed skill, and the
second is the closely related claim that the capacity to recognize determinate
moral requirements is only notionally separable from the capacity to be motivated
to fulfill them. Together, they present a radical view of Kant’s moral
philosophy that should be seriously considered on both textual and
philosophical grounds.
This
account grows directly out of Merritt’s two-pronged understanding of Kantian
reflection. If reflection-n provides norms for objectivity, reflection-c
describes the kind of object-directed activity that is to be normatively
guided, and herein lies the fertile ground for her view of virtue. Working from
the conception of reflection-c as embedded in concrete acts of attention built
in Chapter 3, Merritt argues that “Kantian virtue can ultimately be understood
as a readiness to see facts about one’s situation as themselves requiring
certain responses of attention and action” (126). One is well-situated,
reflectively, insofar as one is capable of properly executing the different
synthetic acts of understanding that constitute one’s cognitive point of view
on the world. In the moral context, this means being able to ascertain the
morally relevant factors in any given situation. Though Merritt does not go
into much detail about what these factors are, I would presume they include
both what needs to be read immediately from the situation at hand, as well as
how these immediate factors relate to the various moral ends (mine and others’)
that need to be considered in light of them. So, moral virtue would include,
for example, the ability to attend to how other people are feeling and what
they want, the various social and political relations that inform the
situation, and the moral duties that presently apply, ultimately leading one to
a concrete representation of how these relevant factors can be accounted for
through some determinate action. To this point, in reference to the duty to
attend to one’s parents’ happiness, Merritt suggests that in many cases a child
“will be capable of having a more concretely determinate appreciation of their
own parents’ needs and desires, as well as of their reason-giving force, than
of the needs and desires of anyone they know less well and to whom they are
less intimately indebted” (196). She also uses the example of a virtuous
teacher who grades anonymously to combat implicit bias (203). It thereby
emerges that the morally virtuous person is one who is attentive to the right
things for the right reasons, and who thus has a proper grasp on the moral
situation as a whole.
This
view of moral virtue stands in stark contrast to the introspective model that
paints it, instead, as the ready capacity to undertake separate acts of
reflection that introspect to uncover one’s true motives and measure them
against the moral law in abstracto.
Merritt sums up her more concretely engaged, world-directed “adverbial”
approach to virtue in the following particularly lucid passage, worth quoting
in full:
“there is no obvious need to step back from the
exigencies of action in order to compare the more determinate principle on
which one proposes to act against a formal law. There is only the quality of
one’s engagement in the action or activity itself. Commitment to the moral law,
in other worlds, need involve no
explicit thoughts about the law as such, nor even about the principles on which
one proposes to act, and the ideally reflective person need not be conceived in
the familiar way, as the one who is always poised to ‘step back’” (178).
It must be stressed (as Merritt herself does) that
this is a very controversial point. Even with the benefit of her carefully
constructed account, other reviewers have been quick to question whether fidelity
to Kant’s text demands that separate non-adverbial acts of reflection remain an
important part of his account of virtue.[2] I find this resistance to be
striking, as Merritt provides her own persuasive and assiduously constructed
reading of one of the most obvious passages in favour of the step-back and
introspect model (200). This is the passage at 6:441 in the Doctrine of Virtue,
in which Kant commands that the first duty of virtue to oneself is to ‘know
yourself’, i.e., “whether your heart is good or evil, whether the sources of
your actions pure or impure”. On the basis of a carefully built interdependence
between the self-consciousness implicit in reflection-c and our engaged acts of
attention, Merritt argues that I know my moral character precisely by
“considering what figures in my attention as providing me with reasons for
doing this or that” (201). Properly unpacked, this account lends support to the
idea that I can grapple with the law and recognize my moral character through a
world-directed mindset focused on figuring out what to do. Such an account does
not preclude demonstrating the necessary concern for whether one is mistaking
merely subjective grounds of judgment for objective ones, as some reviewers
have worried; according to Merritt’s Kant, it is the most fundamental way to
demonstrate such concern.
On my
view, two types of recurring passages from Kant’s corpus speak in favour of
Merritt’s reading. First, as she herself notes, Kant’s insistence that we can
never actually know whether our maxims are pure or impure suggests that the
duty to know oneself does not include a dedication to turn inwards and ferret
out one’s maxims to measure them against the moral law (200). Second, Kant
repeatedly acknowledges that the abstract formulation of the moral law which
guides reflection in its practical application is simply not a feature of our
everyday, non-philosophical moral consciousness. At the close of section I in
the Groundwork, he insists that
practical reason “does not think [the moral law] so abstractly in a universal
form” but rather has it “always before its eyes”, using it “as the norm for its
appraisals” (G 4:403-4).[3] The
value of Merritt’s view lies in its ability to explain how we can at once
respect Kant’s insistence that everyday moral engagement has no need of the
moral law in abstracto, and still
show its normative force to be operative. For on her view, “the moral law is
grasped in concreto in the
recognition of how particular facts about one’s situation give one reasons to
do and not do certain things” (192).
If
the text alone does not unilaterally support the ‘step back and introspect’
model of virtue, one might search for a deeper account of why it still finds
vocal, if qualified, support. I would argue that this is at least in part
because, on the widespread view of Kant[4] that Merritt criticizes,
there seems to be no other role for the moral law. On this widespread view,
Kant’s insistence that the moral law is available to all of us is taken to
imply that it is easy enough to know what it requires us to do, meaning the
true obstacle to virtue lies in having the strength of will to do it, both simpliciter and from a truly moral
disposition.[5] But in
the Doctrine of Virtue and elsewhere, Kant gives us plenty of cause to question
this default assumption in a way that supports Merritt’s account.[6] In such
passages it emerges that having a grasp on the abstract requirements of
morality is not enough. It might be relatively easy to know that we should not
ask for exceptional treatment, that we must treat others as we demand to be
treated, and that, accordingly, we must cultivate the disposition within
ourselves that brings us to respect others and value their happiness. But this
does not mean we will always be able to recognize when these commitments are
relevant in concrete cases, and still less does it mean we will always know
what to do to fulfill them. One’s general moral knowledge needs, in addition,
the concrete acts of attention that strive to figure out what to do and why to
do it. “Moral purity” is revealed in the skillful ability to arrive at an
objective picture of the whole situation and what it calls for. Impurity is
revealed insofar as one is not skilled enough to see past the subjective
feelings and desires that distort one’s point of view.
Kant
arguably acknowledges this role for the moral law throughout the Doctrine of
Virtue, insofar as he identifies duties of virtue as wide duties admitting of
latitude (MS 6:390, 411). A common way of reading this claim is to conclude
that since, in many cases, moral maxims fail to stipulate what precisely to do,
we must conclude that duties of virtue are vague at best, no matter how
virtuous one becomes.[7] Since
the abstract commands of morality cannot fill in the details, our subjective
desires provide the only way to determinate action and so there is a permissive
latitude to do as one happens to want. But there is another way to interpret
Kant on this point, and it stands in direct support of Merritt’s view of
Kantian moral virtue as an engaged skill. Consider the following passages, both
from MS 6:411:
“Ethics, because of the latitude it allows in its
imperfect duties, unavoidably leads to questions that call upon judgment to
decide how a maxim is to be applied in particular cases, and indeed in such a
way that judgment provides another (subordinate) maxim...So ethics falls into a
casuistry”;
and,
“Casuistry is not so much a doctrine about how to find something as rather a practice
in how to seek truth.”
I read the first passage as implying that we are
obligated to use our judgment to work out how the moral law applies in
particular situations. The second passage drives home that in such contexts, it
does make sense to seek determinate truths, and that grasping them is a matter
of practice and using one’s cognitive agency well. So, the fact that the moral
law prescribes only formal maxims instead of particular actions does not mean
there are no determinate situational facts to discern in connection with one’s
moral duty. It means, rather, that there is no instruction manual for one to
passively absorb and deploy, that it is up to the agent to develop the skill
required to have a determinate, context-sensitive conception of what to do in
accordance with the norms of pure practical reason. The virtuous person is
precisely one who has a judgment cultivated enough to do this.
This
leads directly into the second controversial implication of Merritt’s account.
Making sense of the passages where Kant talks about moral strength, she insists
that “virtue is strength of the will, or practical reason: for Kant, this means
that only a notional distinction can be drawn between cognitive and
motivational aspects of virtue” (187). Rather than thinking of motivation as a
separable volitional force, Merritt builds the argument that having sufficient
motivation to act from the moral law depends on the determinacy of one’s
practical knowledge. Having determinate knowledge, in this case, amounts to
having the good moral discernment just discussed: one gains determinacy by
being skillfully attentive to the relevant concrete practical factors. The
difference between the virtuous and unvirtuous person is, therefore, best
articulated in terms of the quality of their knowledge (192), and so must be
the corresponding disparity in motivation. Merritt thus continues to question
the reading of Kant that presents moral knowledge as easily won and wholly
separable from the issue of motivation, arguing instead that “the determinacy
of such knowledge, and so its ability to be concretely action-guiding, admits
of degree” (192). I have argued for a version of this view elsewhere, in
connection with Kant’s doctrine of the practical postulates and their bearing
upon moral motivation (Tizzard 2020). To my knowledge, Merritt is the only
other Kant scholar to claim so explicitly that practical knowledge and
motivation are wholly interdependent.[8] I think such a view is best
described as the strongest or most resolute version of cognitivism as applied
to Kant’s practical philosophy. Even though it seems to follow neatly from his
equation of the will with practical reason (G 4:412), there is bound to be
ongoing resistance to this view. It would be overly simplistic to reduce all
possible objections to a single overarching point, but the widespread history
of treating practical reason as a separate volitional capacity that is not as
equally grounded in the faculty of cognition as its theoretical counterpart
must be an important factor. Merritt provides a useful discussion of this
tradition and the textual evidence against it in Chapter 4.
Further
questions and concerns
Having
shown the significance of Merritt’s view, I will close by raising two concerns
pertaining to its details. As with any comprehensive interpretation of Kant,
there are a number of places where further expansion would be helpful to
Merritt’s reader. Given the nature of her account, I would especially like to
know more about her view of Kant’s distinction between imperfect and perfect
duties. An interesting textual puzzle emerges in the Doctrine of Virtue insofar
as Kant states that “ethical duties are of wide obligation” and “imperfect
duties alone are, accordingly, duties of virtue” (MS 6:390), but then goes on
to talk about negative duties of omission, which are typically thought to be
narrow, perfect duties (e.g., MS 6:421). The question thus arises, does Kant
think that addressing the perfect duties to ourselves and others discussed in
the Doctrine of Virtue requires the same cultivation of judgment that he
mentions explicitly in reference to imperfect duties (MS 6:90)? Whenever the
contrast between perfect and imperfect duties explicitly arises, Merritt
suggests that the answer is ‘no.’ For example, on the duty to respect others,
she remarks: “since everyone is owed recognition respect regardless of merit,
the fulfilment of duties of recognition respect is not especially
context-sensitive, and should not require any remarkable discernment” (194).[9]
Granted, one never needs to ask “should I respect this person now?”, while in
contrast, it could make sense to ask, “should I attend to this person’s
happiness now?” But I don’t take this obvious difference to preclude the
possibility that discernment is called for in discharging perfect duties. To
see this, we can look to Kant’s account of the duty not to lie. It is a
well-known tenet of Kantianism that one must always avoid lying, but Kant still
leaves room for the possibility that discernment will be called for in
assessing whether some particular action counts as a lie or not. This comes out
especially clearly in the casuistical questions that attend his analysis of the
duty (MS 6:431). Moreover, in his discussion of friendship, Kant discusses a
case where one friend points out another’s faults in accordance with a duty of
love, but in doing so is thought by the recipient of this criticism to have
violated a duty of respect (MS 6:470). Despite important differences between
negative and positive duties, it thus seems that there can still be room for
skillful discernment in cases of the former. This suggests the distinction
between different duties of virtue could be thought of as falling along a
spectrum, with the widest duties of virtue on one end and the narrowest on the
other.[10] Such a
view would, I think, strengthen and further support Merritt’s account, since it
speaks to the complex agency and attendant difficulties involved in the
experience of concrete particulars. Insofar as the reflective character of
one’s agency is relevant to freely adopted duties of virtue, but not coercible
duties of right, it would make sense that all duties discussed in the Doctrine
of Virtue presuppose some level of attentive discernment on the part of the
agent actively pursuing them.
Second,
and more importantly, I would argue that Merritt’s account of the Kantian
conception of affect has radical implications for her theory of reflective
agency that warrants more discussion. Her remarks on affect are introduced as a
way into the discussion of reflection-c at the very beginning of the book, and I
found myself wishing she would return to them in more detail as her view
developed. Kant certainly ties affect closely to some kind of reflective
failure, remarking that “preceding reflection, it makes this impossible or more
difficult” (MS 6:408). In his lengthier account of affect in the Anthropology, he describes them as
“feelings of pleasure and displeasure that transgress the bounds of the human
being’s inner freedom” (A 7:235), stating that affect is “thoughtless” in its
capacity to inhibit reflection. From such remarks, Merritt draws the striking
conclusion that the affected subject cannot even be said to engage in
reflection-c: “affect involves losing even that self-consciousness that is
implicit inasmuch as one judges or acts intentionally at all” (20). This leads
to earnest questions about the demandingness of reflection-c and the regularity
with which affect is encountered in practical life. To the first point,
Merritt’s reading of Kant certainly builds a lot of complex cognitive activity
into the notion of reflection-c, but it also presents this activity as implicit
in our everyday openness to a world of publicly available objects. While it is
easy enough to go wrong in judging about this world and thereby fail to meet
the requirements of reflection-n, the cognitive agency constitutive of
reflection-c—which Merritt finds implicated in even the simplest acts of
attention, and stirring in us from the very first stages of life (83, 89)—seems
much harder to turn off once it has come online.[11] While I would not dispute
that such occurrences are possible, they seem to be exceptional cases at the
margins of life, as opposed to a recurring obstacle to virtue against which we
must continually ready ourselves.
Though
there are certainly passages that support Merritt’s reading of affect, it
should be noted that, as is usually the case with Kant, there is room for
alternative accounts. Kant himself can sometimes seem aware of the tensions
involved in saying both that practical failures are failures of reason, and
that affect prohibits reflection entirely. Merritt takes Kant to overstep the
limits of his own account in speaking of the affected agent as someone who
‘gives himself over to a feeling of pain’ (A 7:254; Merritt 2018, p. 20). Even
this description attributes too much agency to one’s failure if reflection-c is
nowhere present in it. Merritt’s strategy in dealing with apparent
inconsistencies in Kant’s account is to take literally his talk of affect as
thoughtless and unfree, and downplay the remarks that implicate cognitive
agency. This is a questionable strategy, especially given that Kant also
describes passions as afflictions that shut out the sovereignty of reason and
limit the free use of one’s agency (A 7:251, 253), while also explicitly
claiming that they involve the formation of maxims and therefore reasoning to
some extent (A 7:266).
In
sum, the implications for thinking of affect as a total breakdown of rational
activity are serious, not least of all because it leads one to wonder how
someone could ever be held responsible for the behaviour it produces, or strive
to overcome such weaknesses through the cultivation of virtue as a cognitive
skill. It seems further discussion is needed to persuasively establish
Merritt’s view of affect, especially given that she introduces a two-pronged
account of reflection, and failures of affect could also be construed as a
different way of failing to meet the requirements of reflection-n.
I
expect these will be just a few of the questions and concerns posed to Merritt
in the years to come, as her book is highly deserving of sustained and
dedicated discussion. I am hopeful that through such efforts, the resolute
cognitivism and world-directed account of virtue she recommends will become
more established positions in the world of Kant scholarship.
*Special thanks to Charlie Crerar, Lionel Shapiro,
Paul Bloomfield, and Yuhan Liang for helpful thoughts and lively discussion
shared in a reading group centered on this book at the University of
Connecticut during Spring semester 2020.
References
Baxley, A. M. (2010), Kant’s Theory of Virtue: The Value of Autocracy. Cambridge.
Brewer, T. (2011), “Two Pictures of Practical
Thinking,” in Jost, L. Wuerth, J. New
Essays on Kantian Ethics and Virtue
Ethics. Cambridge, pp. 116-46.
Callanan, J. (2020), “Review of Melissa Merritt, Kant on Reflection and Virtue”. Kantian Review 25, pp. 149-153.
Kitcher, P. (2012), “Kant’s Unconscious ‘Given’”, in
Giordanetti, P., Pozzo R., Sgarbi, M. Kant’s
Philosophy of the Unconscious.
Berlin, pp. 5-36.
Kohl, M. (2019), “Review of Melissa Merritt, Kant on Reflection and Virtue”. Ethics 129, pp. 726- 731.
Marshall, C. (2019), “Review of Melissa Merritt, Kant on Reflection and Virtue”. Mind 128, pp. 1002-1011.
Merritt, M. (2018), Kant on Reflection and Virtue. Cambridge.
Papish, L. (2018), Kant
on Evil, Self-Deception, and Moral Reform. New York.
Tizzard, J. (2020), “Why does Kant think we must
believe in the immortal soul?” Canadian Journal of Philosophy 50, pp. 114-129.
