The Place of Desire in Morality
At the beginning of Book 1, Ch. 3 of The Critique of Practical Reason, Kant discusses how the moral law opposes the human inclination to self-conceit (i.e., our tendency falsely to esteem ourselves as morally excellent and to rest in self-satisfaction on this incorrect assessent). The moral law is objective and unconditional, while our desires “subjectively antagonize” against it. In other words, given “our nature as sensible beings*,” our desires strive to place themselves above the moral law and demand that they be recognized as the supreme legislator of morality. Yet the objective and unconditional nature of the moral law steadfastly opposes our wants, humbles us, and demands our respect.
Kant’s point is a wise one. Our desires often oppose our moral obligations, and yet the objective and categorical nature of such obligations deserves our esteem and requires our accordance. Christian ethics makes a similar point. And Platonic-Aristotelian ethics, Stoic ethics, and Buddhist ethics advise – in their own ways – that we control (or eliminate, in the case of Buddhism) our desires and not be controlled by them.
Yet today’s popular morality encourages the uncritical following of inclination. A multitude of voices in our culture insist — as if it were obvious and beyond reasonable doubt — that desire-guided behavior is to be celebrated and that our inclinations are objects of proper pride.
I say: avoid the unthinking appropriation of any worldview that holds as a moral principle that we should follow our desires, “live out” whatever inclinations we have, and celebrate the slip from autonomy into heteronomy.
*By “sensible” Kant does not mean wise or prudent. Kant is not saying that we are by nature wise beings. Rather, he means that we are naturally prone to impulses, wants, feelings, and other sensations. Actions performed only or primarily for reasons of desire or feeling have no moral worth, even if the feeling appears to be a lofty one.
For example, in Season 7, Episode 2 of The Walking Dead (The Well), Ezekiel attempts to help Carol, though he hardly knows her. She asks why he is trying to help her, given that the challenges of their apocalyptic world turn most people into ruthless centers of self-interest. “Why do you care?” she asks. His response: “Because it makes me feel good.”
In Kant’s view, this feeling-based act, though perhaps good in some way, has no moral worth. It is merely self-interest. Ezekiel is not helping Carol because he seeks to treat her as an end in herself, as a person — like Morgan (another character in the show) does. Ezekiel is helping Carol for the sake of his own pleasant feelings. (Although it is possible that he also cares for Carol as an end in herself but didn’t provide that answer when she asked, since she might have doubted that anyone would be so pure in such circumstances.)