The meaning of the Greek word “philosophos” is “friend of wisdom” (“truth”), not “possessor”. I am a friend, however, only to the extent that I make an effort to be and to remain one. Thus, philosophy cannot give up its striving towards truth – not even in the context of postmodern relativism -, nor can it flee to the supposed security of ideological dogmas. The claim to truth is strengthened, not weakened, by openness to criticism. The simple act of posing a serious question, which necessarily is part of the conditio humana, implies (in a performative – pragmatic sense) the acknowledgement of basic principles of a virtually universalistic Ethics: man cannot be man without, through the medium of language, having implicitly acknowledged his fellow human beings and accepted the necessity of a reciprocal relationship with equal rights and duties. In the political realm these ethical principles lead to the claim for an international body able to solve conflicts by dialogue instead of violence (League of Nations).
Why do we have to know at all what is true and what is false? Certainly not or “academic” reasons, but rather because we could not survive otherwise. If I do not know whether or not the mushroom I am about to eat is poisonous, I take the risk of dying for my ignorance. If I have erred in calculating the re-entry angle of a space capsule, it may be that the whole crew will pay for my error with their lives. Of course, most situations in which the question of truth presents itself are not as dramatic as this. Most are in fact trivial and insignificant: will it rain or not; should I take an umbrella? How much fuel does the car consume that I would like to buy; can I afford it? And so on.
Does the question of truth arise only in connection with our knowledge of the world or also in connection with our actions within it? In both cases. For, on the one hand, we must know: is it true that a space capsule re-entering the atmosphere at an angle of so many degrees and a speed of so many kilometers per hour heats up by so many degrees? On the other hand we must also know: is it true that it would be better if the heat shield around the capsule were twice as thick as it currently is – therefore, that it should be made thicker? Thus, questions of truth appear in the realm in which we need to know what is the case, as well as in the realm in which we need to know what we should or should not do. We can call the first realm the realm of “theoretical reason” and the second, the realm of “practical reason”.
Can’t we simply put aside the question of truth? One can try, certainly. Already in ancient Greece, some philosophers had asserted that there is no truth, that everything is deception andlies, that truth is at best only “relative”. In our own time, too, there are people who defend this position; it is in fact fashionable - which is quite astonishing, for the counter-argument is obvious: If the proposition “there is no truth” means anything at all (and is not simply meaningless grumbling), then it means: “The proposition ‘there is no truth’ is true”. It is clear that, as soon as we take the utterance seriously, it turns out to be self-ontradictory. If we don’t take it seriously, then there is no point in wasting our time with it. But what is wrong with inconsistency? Don’t we sometimes say of a deceased person, in sympathy and even with a bit of admiration, “Even in his contradictions he was great”? We say this because we sometimes find human failings endearing (so long as they are not too serious). We also know of our own individual weaknesses and tend to turn a blind eye to them. It makes our life a little easier. But if we were seriously to accept inconsistency, we would be forced to accept also its opposite, the refusal of inconsistency; and second, in a serious circumstance, we would not need much time to decide on which side of this argument we stand. Suppose we are, for example, running a construction company and would like to know from the engineer who has constructed our newest bridge whether it can carry the expected loads. Suppose he answers “Yes and no”.
We would surely respond, taken aback or angry, that this is a contradiction, and if he were to insist further on his answer (perhaps invoking the principle of inconsistency) we would send him to get his walking papers, or perhaps to a sychiatrist to check his head. In the realm of “practical reason”, it may be true that we should not let our actions be steered by our natural instincts alone. But what is the function of the natural senses in the realm of “theoretical reason” ? Don´t we have to admit that, without our natural senses, we would not be able to recognize anything or, in any case, that we would not get very far in our search for knowledge? Indeed, if someone had no senses at all – how would he perceive anything? On the other hand, the “impressions” that reach us via our senses do not already have the quality of knowledge, certainly not in a manner that is reliable. Reliable knowledge is obtained only by actively undertaking one more step: the processing of these impressions by means of “modalities of perception” (“Anschauungsformen”, as Kant said) like time, substance and cause, and by means of “concepts” (“Begriffe”) like nature, alive, plant, dog etc. - which we have learned through discourse. Humankind has elaborated these “modalities of perception” and “concepts” during the course of its history, and we as individuals have learned them through discourse with our fellow human beings. In this sense, reliable knowledge presupposes co-subjectivity.
As mere sensory data, sensual impressions are not yet registered or assimilated – they are simply there. The registering and assimilating is the result of an act of reason. The fact that our senses transmit to us the impression of “something” is only possible because the idea of “something” exists in our reason. The notion that our sense data has to do with things that are “there” is something that our reason provides; it is not in the data itself. Our ability to perceive objects in space, that is, as three-dimensional, depends on our having a concept of space. We perceive sequences of events as such only because we can organize our disconnected impressions according to an idea of time – again, this organization is not present in the sense data itself. Further, when we ascertain causal connections between events that we perceive in space and time, these connections are not immanently present in the sense data itself; for this we require the “modality of perception” called “causation”. When we look at a geometrical drawing of, say, a pyramid or a cube, we sometimes notice that it takes a while to “figure out” what it is that the lines represent, for example, a pyramid with the apex at the top or pointing downwards.
“Ah, that’s how you have to see it!” we say then. But we’ve been “seeing” it all along or at least receiving sense impressions from it; it’s just that our visual impressions were not yet processed by our reasoning. In what respect does this have to do with co-subjectivity, as mentioned above? At least in two respects: Firstly, those concepts and categories we use to integrate sense impressions into our understanding are available to us because we have worked them out not on our own, as isolated individuals, but discoursively, that is, with the help of our fellow creatures. The development of concepts which enable us to apprehend reality and thereby obtain knowledge is an important cultural accomplishment. Another such accomplishment is the use of the so-called logical particles (such as: and, or, if - then, all, none). These, too, are not simply innate to us but must be worked out and learnt discoursively. Language, however, always implies the existence of a fellow human being, in the sense of a co-subject of recognition. By virtue of their participation in the construction of those concepts that make knowledge possible for us, our fellow human beings are inescapably involved in every process of recognition (“Erkenntnis”), even in those that seem to be solitary. Secondly, our efforts to attain knowledge are dependent, in a rather ‘external’ sense, on our fellow reatures in that we depend on their suggestions and criticisms. We make errors, and besides, the intellectual capacity of any one person is limited. In both cases, we depend on help from others. The criticisms another might make of things I consider to be true can show me where I have gone wrong. His suggestions might draw my attention to any oversights. Could it not well be that all recognition only takes place in the consciousness of the individual, that there is no world around him, but rather that it is all just an illusion? This, like the previous question (“Can’t we simply put aside the claim to truth?”) is merely a “paper doubt” (a doubt which is not meant genuinely), as the American philosopher Peirce would have said. This sort of objection is familiar to us by now, and the reply is the same: First, the objection falls into its own trap, for if everything is imagined, then so is this objection – which of course was not meant. Second, suppose we should in fact call the world and everything in it “imagined”, this would change nothing, except the amount of verbiage used to describe the world.
Third, we could again go to the bank with any advocate of this idea and wait for his reaction when the teller advises him that he is only imagining the deposit of his salary into his account yesterday.So in attempting to discover the facts of the world around us, we are (if this attempt is more than rudimentary) dependent on our fellow human beings? Yes. Even in posing the most simple question, like “Is this mushroom poisonous?”, we transcend our subjectivity in various ways: We turn to someone else (from whom we hope to obtain the knowledge that we ourselves lack), and in doing so, we use the medium of language, which we have acquired through a long process of communication with other human beings. Does every question really have to be “serious”? Of course not. We can also ask questions playfully, only pretending to search for an answer, and so on. Yet even these playful questions are comprehensible as such – that is, as “playful” and not “serious” – only when we first understand what we mean by “serious”. One has to be able to say seriously, “Believe me, I didn’t mean to ask this question seriously”. Or, said the other way round, we need to seriously be aware of what we mean when we use the word “playful”. When we ask a question we exercise an ability that is part of our makeup as rational beings. Why the world, our life and our reason (and therefore this capability of asking questions) should exist – this is something we don’t know. In asking “Why?”, however, we are referred to the categories of world, life, reason (and with it freedom) as inevitabilities, which we implicitly recognize in the very act of questioning. Such questions about implicit preconditions, in other words, the reflections about “requirements for the possibility of…”, are what Kant called “transcendental”. In this light we can say: Transcendental reflection is the pragmatic answer (always implicit in any speech act) to the three above mentioned fundamental questions about existence (of world, life and reason) that have no substantive answers. Let’s return to the question of unavoidable inter-subjectivity. How can we more concretely recognize this inter- subjectivity, which is contained in every simple question? What sort of relationship do I enter into when I ask someone a seriously meant question? By asking a question, I implicitly recognize a) the existence of certain anthropological givens and, at the same time, b) the validity of certain rules of speech acts in the sense of mutually accepted rights and duties. Such anthropological givens (a) which I necessarily accept in asking a question are, for example, that, - I need a partner in discourse because I don’t myself know the answer, or at least don’t know it for sure; - my partner in discourse is a being whom I assume to be capable of answering me (hence, that he or she is to this extent rational); and, - he or she can understand me, that is, realizes that he or she is being addressed with a question. With every question I ask, I necessarily accept (b) basic shared discourse-related responsibilities, for example with respect to: 1. Choice of words: There are certain rules governing the use of words which I agree to follow and which I expect to be followed by my partner in discourse; 2. Sincerity: The question I pose is meant sincerely and I expect that my partner will answer me with similar sincerity. This also means that he will tell me when he actually knows no answer, has only a partial one, or has doubts about it; 3. Trans-subjective openness: When my partner can only give an unsatisfactory answer or no answer at all to my question, I can expect that he will help me find someone who can answer it, since he understands that he, as an individual, must put himself second in the pursuit of truth; in other words, that every question posed seriously is in fact addressed not specifically to him, but to every rational being and thus is meant to be virtually universalistic.
Justification: I can expect that my partner answers not only with a statement, but that he is prepared to tell me why he thinks this statement is the correct
Argumentative discourse: I can expect my discoursive partner not only to give me the justifications for his answer, but also to be willing to respond to objections that I may present; in other words, to be willing to enter into an argumentative dialogue with me, one in which justifications and counter-justifications are weighed against one
Rules of argumentation: Such a dialogue is only possible in the framework of certain rules of logic, and the participants must agree to adhere to
Openness to revision: When new information is received which has the potential to affect the outcome of the argument, the participants must be willing to take this into account and, if applicable, to revise any conclusions they had previously come
Aiming toward consensus: When no new argumentative information remains to be presented and the dialogue thus appears to be at an end, both participants agree to regard the result of the dialogue to this point as the (possibly preliminary) answer to their posed question – this result is the truth of the matter as they have so far been able to Are there any more anthropological givens or responsibilities of communication that we might add to this list? Possibly - others might be identified. Would it not be very important to reconstruct methodologically such rules of dialogue, starting from the simplest speech acts and proceeding to elaborate linguistic structures, in order to make clear to us the mutual rights and duties that they entail? Yes. Indeed, Wilhelm Kamlah and Paul Lorenzen, the founders of the so-called Erlangen School, attempted this in their "Logical Propaedeutics" (1967), both for "theoretical" propositions (those that describe facts) and for "practical" propositions (those that say what should be done). However, Kamlah and Lorenzen were not aware of the transcendental-pragmatic presuppositions described above. Their approach was: If people want to talk to one another reasonably, then they can do this by following a certain set of rules, namely that which was described in “Logical Propaedeutics”. They had not yet recognized that the posing of seriously meant questions (implicit in
the conditio humana) necessarily entails a mutual acceptance of a set of rules. Could we describe this "set of rules" as a kind of "minimal ethics"? We might well do so. However, this form of ethics is not really so "minimal"! We shall later examine the practical and political consequences which would surely follow if we were to genuinely fulfill the requirements posed for an undistorted dialogue in search of truth. Can we summarize the important points? Yes: 1. As human beings, we are existentially dependent on our willingness and ability to ask serious questions.
In asking a simple, seriously meant question, we implicitly accept the universal validity of fundamental 3. In this respect we humans are all equal. “Equal” here means that we, as potential dialogue partners, have the same rights and duties. Is it possible to derive from these merely formal rules any substantive conclusions concerning our actions in concrete situations? No, we cannot derive anything substantive from them, but we can work with these formal rules by applying them to concrete situations. That is what they are there for. Take as an example the question as to whether the sale of cigarettes to minors below a certain age should be forbidden. This question cannot be answered by someone whose sole function is to ensure that the formal rules of argumentative dialogue are being respected. If he were to play a part in this discussion, he would in addition require the relevant knowledge and expertise. As a side note: To characterize the rules as "merely" formal is misleading. The rules are not "merely" formal in the lacking sense; rather, they have the virtue of being "merely", that is, purely, formal. And why should that be an advantage? If we were to consider values as the basis of ethics, and if those values were to conflict with one another (for example, in the case of different views about whether one or the other substantive proposition or value can or should or must be seen as most relevant), then these conflicts would not be resolvable except by recourse to supposedly higher values or propositions, which again could stand in conflict with one another or even lead to the use of violence. Violence is in fact the "procedure" by means of which such substantive conflicts are often resolved. In the case of a conflict between states which each defend conflicting values, war becomes the “procedure” of resolution. In an age in which weapons of mass destruction and global environmental threats are spreading, war is not an option we can afford. The resort to war is now coupled with a risk unknown in earlier times; an unrestrained modern war, fought with all military means available, would eradicate the human race, or leave little of it left. The search for non-military means of resolving conflicts is thus an existential necessity. The Charter of the United Nations recognizes this necessity in its general prohibition of war. It allows wars only when legitimated by the Security Council or in cases of immediate self-defence (and in this case, authorization by the Security Council must be obtained after the fact). In the Security Council meetings no shooting takes place, only talking, and the talking adheres to a predefined, commonly agreed upon formal procedure. Will mankind succeed in solving its conflicts in a way that does not bring about its complete or near destruction?
When we consider the degree of stupidity, ideology and other forms of unreason rampant in human society, as well as our aggressiveness and short-sightedness, the prognosis can’t be good.Then there is nothing to hope for? There are indeed grounds for hope, and it is in these that we must put all of our efforts, on all fronts, and not let ourselves be deterred by setbacks! A large part of humanity and even heads of state have understood that they will only cause future catastrophes and possibly even their own demise if they take no decisive action against existing risks. This insight is due less to high-minded moral principles than to the sober reckoning of long-term self- interest. But even that is better than no insight at all ! In the United Nations and its subordinate organizations, states have created a most important global institution, in which they can resolve their conflicts within the framework of formal procedures; at least, they can attempt to do so. In more than a few cases, indeed in very important and life-endangering cases, conflicts have in fact been settled in this manner. It is important to pursue this path further! Another ground for hope is the fact that multilateral agreements among states have been put in place (outside the UN), meant to mitigate or eliminate global environmental and military threats. Finally, a third ground for hope can be seen in the measures taken independently by a state to contribute to the attainment of these same global goals. We have seen that, strictly taken, truth can only be found in an ideal communicative situation of the sort indicated above. But where in the world can such a situation exist? Is that not merely a well-intentioned utopia?
In the first place, it cannot be a utopia because truth cannot be found in any other way. U-topia means "no place". As is evidenced by the immense and ever growing collection of knowledge we have available today, there must be some "place" where it is possible to obtain knowledge. This place is "anticipation". In our truth-seeking dialogues, we act as if we were already in the "ideal communicative situation"; we anticipate, in particular, possible counter-arguments that, theoretically, could come from any rational being. This anticipation usually works in everyday life. Yet, one never knows whether or not a counter-argument or further relevant information might still exist in the mind of someone else who was not able to express it (either because he had been hindered, by means of power, or because he simply did not trust the worth of his own opinions). Considering this last point, it is evident that even if, in a thought-experiment, we were to imagine that all restraints were eliminated and an ideal society free from domination, with equality, freedom and solidarity for all, were fully realized, we would still find it impossible in practice to verify that all possible counter- arguments have been taken into consideration. In other words, even in the best of all possible worlds, anticipation would still be necessary. And it is all the more necessary in a human world-society permeated to such a great degree by power structures as ours! Returning to Kant and his subjectivist, pre-dialogical concept of reason: What are the consequences of this concept having been conceived without reference to the necessity of such a utopian counter-factual anticipation of an ideal communicative situation? Reason is for Kant a mental capability of the individual. And the Enlightenment is a call, a hope, an appeal to individuals. Sapere aude! – Dare to know! If the world is to become more reasonable, this appeal must be heard and followed by individuals throughout the world. All the same, Kant entertains no illusions about the prospects of this appeal. Further progressions, even significant ones, are conceivable for him. Working toward this end is what gives meaning to life. But that the world will in fact fully submit to reason – for him this idea is naive. "From such crooked wood as that which man is made of, nothing straight can be fashioned," he wrote. What remains is a "regulative idea", a postulate that can never be fully realized. The fact that we have the courage, in our own finite lives, to invest our efforts into attaining a meaning which is ultimately beyond our grasp; to entrust one's own, limited span to an infinity that lies beyond one's own horizon – in this he sees something religious.
More precisely, for him it is this which will remain of religion if it seeks a place “within the limits of reason alone” (as explained in his book of this title). The Kantian concept of religion is in any case not bound to any transcendent world; it does not create any bridges to a world beyond. It rather establishes, on the basis of the logic of reason, a connection to the unattainable, utopian aim of reasoned activity in this world. What now is special about Kant and how does his answer differ from that of the empiricist Enlightenment? Kant's outstanding contribution to the history of philosophy is the step from heteronomy to autonomy.
It is no longer the eternal truths of Plato (existing independently of humans), no longer the timeless God of Christianity (existing independently of humans), no longer the empiricist’s equally timeless and eternal natural world (existing independently of humans) that guides us. For Kant, man is autonomous; there is no external guide. Outside his own self there is no authority to which he could turn for orientation. He is left to his own devices; only he himself can find and judge the proper direction for his life, the criteria for true and false, good and bad. What motivates Kant to conceive of man as autonomous? And what, according to him, can protect him from error? In other words: what compels us to accept that we must work out, for ourselves, what the world is like (find out what is the case) and what we should do in it? Furthermore, what protects us from making mistakes while doing so? Regarding the first part of this question (about autonomy), Kant gives a convincing answer; regarding the second (about protection from error) he does not. That answer will only be given later, by the philosophy of language of our time. Kant’s answer to the first part of the question is: That which forces us to understand ourselves as autonomous beings in the world is the inescapability of our reflection upon the possibility of knowledge, the so- called transcendental reflection.
We cannot get beyond our understanding of the conditions of possibility of knowledge. The activity of reason and the data provided by the senses belong together in the process of achieving knowledge: "Concepts without experience are empty; experience without concepts is blind", says Kant. This autonomous achievement is (whether the human being is conscious of it or not) the condition for the possibility of knowledge. “The world” would not “exist” if the activities of human reason could not generate the concepts through which the world must initially be constructed (as “existent”). This is the ‘Copernican Revolution’ of epistemology - it is no longer the case that the world exists, waiting to be perceived by us. Rather, the world "exists" precisely in the way and to the extent that we perceive it. "Existence" is a concept generated by human reason, something that does not occur in the world (outside a human understanding of it). "Until now, it was assumed that our knowledge must be oriented to objects. ... Let us attempt ... for once to see if we would not make more progress in the tasks set by metaphysics by assuming that the objects have to orient themselves to our modes of understanding ...". These now famous, provocative sentences of Kant in the Critique of Pure Reason (Second Edition, XVI) should, of course, not be misunderstood as saying that the world would cease to exist if humankind should cease to exist. Kant merely points out (though certainly with provocative exaggeration that invites misunderstanding) that, whether or not the world exists for us, its existence is dependent on our perceiving it. To what extent is the transcendental epistemology of Kant, as indicated above, inadequate? Kant imagined the process of attaining knowledge as a product of the individual’s solitary activity of reason. He did not yet see that the achievement of knowledge by human beings (for example, the working out of the concepts necessary to construct our world) always takes place in the medium of language; thus, that it always presupposes language, communication and learning with and from other individuals.
How does Kant succeed in arriving at a formal universalist ethics from a subject-oriented epistemology? He doesn't! Just as he fails to construct what he calls the "fact of reason" inter-subjectively, simply positing it as something inherent in the individual, so too does he simply posit the terms "you" and "we" implied in the categorical imperative ("Act only according to that maxim whereby you can, at the same time, will that it should become a universal law! " ; that is, so that we all can adopt it!), as if they arose from the operations of reason within the isolated subject. This would be true only if Kant had seen, right from the start, the necessity of incorporating the terms "you" and "we" in the process of attaining knowledge (as these terms are involved even in the act of asking a simple question).
Can Kant's ethics be applied in practice? What about the critique of his moral rigorism? For Kant, ethical maxims have unconditional (categorical) value. The maxim "Don't tell lies!" is valid at all times, without exception - even when, by telling the truth, we might deliver an innocent to his death. The consequences are irrelevant. "Good" can solely be understood as good will, expressed in a maxim. For Kant, maxims arise from purely theoretical operations of thought, carried out by the individual. If the world will perish as a consequence of following such maxims, then so be it; it is our duty to follow them. In the end, this means: "Fiat justitia, pereat mundus" - "Justice be done, even if the world shall perish".
Why did Kant insist on this position? If he had not understood his ethics in purely categorical terms (in other words, if he had recognized that conditions exist under which exceptions from an otherwise morally good rule, such as "Don’t tell lies!", can be justified), he would have had to give up his subjectivist foundation. However, he did not have an alternative based in dialogue. He would have needed to abandon his categorical approach, because exceptions are unforeseeable (not calculable). They arise in the unpredictable course of history. As justifiable exceptions, they can be invoked only by our co-subjects, by those living in the relevant circumstances. In any case, a solitary subject like Kant in Königsberg cannot be the judge. If exceptions arising out of a specific situation are admitted, how can we prevent ethics from, so to speak, sinking in a sea of exceptions? In other words, how do we justify, or not justify, exceptions? This is certainly the crucial question for the implementation of ethics. I think the solution is not difficult to find. Kant has spoken about the “faculty of judgment” – “Urteilskraft” – which allows us to assess the specific situation we are in and identify the maxim applicable (in a categorical way) to this situation. We now only have to contribute a new task to the same “faculty of judgment”: that is, to find out if an exception from that maxim should be made. But how can this be done in a morally acceptable way? If, for example, in a given situation, a man asks me to hide him in my house because he is being pursued by a mob that falsely accuses him of having committed a crime, I of course will fulfil his wish, following the moral maxim “Help innocent people!”.
After some time, the mob arrives at my house and I am asked if I know the hideout of that man. Kant would answer: “Yes, he is in my house”, following the moral maxim “Don’t lie!”. A possible consequence of this telling the truth can be the killing of the innocent man. Under these circumstances the (new, additional) task of the “faculty of judgment“ would be to first of all assess whether that mob really is willing to harm or even kill the man if I betray his hideout, or whether the pursuit is more likely to end with some heated words and an eventual resolution of the misunderstanding. In the first case I might feel obliged to lie to the mob, in the second I would tell them the truth. What could be the justification for my breaking the otherwise correct moral maxim “Don´t lie!” in the first case? Is there any at all? Kant did not think there was any. Along with his many critics, I in fact think that there is. The respective argumentation (justifying the exception) can be formulated along the following scheme: First, we would name the conflicting maxims. In our case: “Don’t lie!” and “Help innocent people!” Second, we would assess the likely outcomes if we follow this or that maxim: security for the pursued, or his possible lynching. Third, we would assess the respective results morally: is the lynching of an innocent person a price we should accept for our categorical abiding by a maxim?
Especially: is there no alternative morally more acceptable then sacrificing an innocent human being on the altar of our moral purity? In the case described above, this could, for example, mean: I deceive the pursuers, saving the life of the innocent man and then accuse the pursuers (of attempted murder), as well as the pursued (for the deed for which he was being pursued). My prevailing maxim might then be formulated as: "Make an exception to the maxim against lying if doing so averts a great misdeed, and at the same time preserves the possibility of resolving the conflict within the norms of justice". There can be no doubt that a trial, with its possibility of self-defence, represents a more adequate solution for rational beings than a vengeful murder, brought about by a truthful reply to the pursuers. That may be fine in theory, but how about in practice? Carrying out the deliberations described above presupposes not only the desire to find the best solution but also a faculty of judgment adequate to the task. In practice, both mostly do not exist to the degree we would require. Otherwise, we would find ourselves living in a better world. That our world is nevertheless not simply a "hell on earth", is something we owe to the fact that, within our often irrational human history, we can at the same time see the gradual unfolding and realization of reason, and with it, the progressive development of the faculty of judgment in everyday life. How does Kant´s answer differ from that of Hobbes? Kant sees war as the natural state of affairs. This he shares with Hobbes, who sees man as a wolf, as a part of nature. Hobbes' solution changes nothing in this respect.
The wolves in human clothes remain wolves, even after founding a state; they agree to this in order to prevent themselves from devouring each other, so that they may continue to live as wolves. Kant, however, seeks to overcome the state of nature. Put better, in contrast to Hobbes, he recognizes that man is more than a part of nature. To settle conflicts by force is to do so as an animal, exactly as occurs in wild nature. Man is not realized as a human being when he acts in this way, he instead turns himself into an animal. For Kant, too, the state is founded on a contract. This contract, however, is made possible only because man is not an animal; his ability to make ethical judgments is the necessary condition upon which the contract is made. Contrary to Hobbes, Kant has seen that the allegedly moral-free Hobbesian state presupposes the acceptance of the moral maxim by the participating human beings that promises (like the promise to accept the Leviathan-state as a high authority in cases of conflict with fellow human beings) should be kept, even in cases when it is more advantageous for an individual to make an exception from it. What is the political-philosophical answer of Kant - in contrast to Hobbes - to the gradual dissolution of traditional, religiously founded universalistic authorities in post-Enlightenment Europe? They are replaced by an enlightened public within each state (including the relevant institutions) and a “League of Nations” between the states. The state's task and even raison d´être is to secure the external conditions necessary for the unfolding and realization of reason. Foremost among these are freedom of expression and the adherence to fixed rules (those of a system of justice) in the resolution of conflicts. On the international level, the League of Nations has the same task: to ensure the freedom of expression of all member states, and to institute a rule-based mechanism for the resolution of conflicts among them along the lines of international law.