Elias Anttila
Kant’s now canonical 1784 public essay ‘What is Enlightenment?’ contemporarily holds the status of the quintessential manifesto of the Enlightenment project. The thesis of Kant’s essay is simple: the (then ongoing) rationalisation of humanity (i.e. European men) marks a unique historical stage of growth and graduation of humanity into political, social, moral, and intellectual maturity. Historically, Kant blames humanity of laziness and cowardice, but its self-civilisation is its induction into ‘daring to know’—Sapere aude! At last, civilisation frees itself from ‘self-incurred tutelage’.
Kant’s thesis is well-studied by students of philosophy and history. Perhaps one of the first things to note is Kant’s reliance on the metaphor of age. ‘Tutelage’, referring to a kind of apprenticeship, is sometimes also translated as ‘immaturity’ (the original German is Unmündigkeit). This metaphor gives insight into some of Kant’s background presumptions: Immaturity and apprenticeship touch upon a typical 18th-century conception of history, one that takes progress to be inevitable, just as growing up is. Young age also evokes the idea of progress as increasing rationality: children (just as pre-Enlightenment Europe for Kant) have limited capabilities for reasoning, and age brings wisdom and learning. And finally, age also brings with it a higher sense of morality: Kant’s short essay is specifically a monument to and an artefact of the normative idea of progress as the ubiquity of rationality as a policy.
Taking note of this perspective on age and combining it with Kant’s thesis, we can also say something about Kant’s own position within his own text: to me, Kant’s voice sounds like that of a sagacious parent (a more rational being), explaining the predicament of a growing child. Kant writes as if he is looking down at the public, and is in a position to give specific advice on how to handle growing older. In the essay, we find careful rules to follow in how to operationalise newfound courage to use reason: it is ok, even encouraged, to use reason as scholars use reason (impersonally and for public purposes), but it is not ok to argue in one’s capacity as whatever job or status one holds. Argument cannot get in the way of obedience; this would hinder the Enlightenment.
Considering the above, Kant’s thesis appears to be quite elitist. Not only does Kant seem to lack the political imagination to comprehend the intellectual maturity of, well, anyone but himself, but he also shows historical carelessness (see faulty 18th-century conception of history above) in failing to account for historical instances where the public did rise up and ‘dared to know’, but were violently crushed by those in power. In fact, Kant seems strangely oblivious to previous historical calls for ‘reason’ altogether or knowing for oneself (an obvious example would be the Reformation.)
This was one of the arguments made 200 years later by Foucault in his parallelly titled “What is Enlightenment?” Foucault, not following Kant’s conception of history, briefly pokes around big history, where even scratching the surface reveals that Kant’s call for political independence through intellectual independence is repeated historically time and time again; in fact, Foucault notices contemporary parallels with discussions regarding modernity (of course inaccessible to Kant). One of the questions Foucault then asks is: what is it that made/makes Enlightenment unique?
Foucault’s essay is incredibly interesting and deserves more attention than I can give it in passing here. Instead of delving deeper into it, I want to end on a speculative answer to his question, particularly with regard to the new status Kant ascribes argumentation. Kant, although he places heavy restrictions on the freedom to argue, still makes the case that anyone can make any argument in their capacity as a curious citizen. There are two possible analytical perspectives here that I want to highlight. First, we could view Kant’s argument through Foucault’s own ‘governmentality’: ‘allowing’ the public to argue over what they will except about anything that relates to their obedience with regard to their social role is a means to control the public. In this way, Kant’s new freedom actually creates arguably a more authoritarian environment: giving the people just enough to ensure that they don’t turn against those who govern them, while convincing them that that is what freedom is.
Second, we could view Kant’s argument more optimistically. In the Social Epistemology of Argumentation project, we’ve noted over and over that there are specific conditions that have to be met for argumentation to arise. One of these is the absence of a great power imbalance: argumentation is rarely initiated or responded to if one arguer knows their interlocutor has and is willing to use their position for punishment. In this light (and admittedly a little more historical and theoretical footwork!), maybe Kant’s argument is a symptom of some narrowing of power differences during the Enlightenment between the governors and the governed and between the governed themselves. This narrowing brings up the possibility that argumentation could take place more often. This perspective doesn’t necessarily rule out the Foucauldian one; in taking on board both perspectives, the malevolence of the function of power is contextualised in decreasing inequality.
There’s obviously a lot more to consider between Kant, Foucault, Enlightenment, and argumentation: morals, politics, epistemic consequences, and historical causes and effects of argumentation as a widespread policy. Considering the conditions of power for argumentation to arise also has implications for the role of argumentation in democratic theory—these will be left for another time.
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