Kantian Moral Concern, Love, and Respect

Abstract

This chapter addresses the question what it means for anyone to ‘matter’ in Kant’s ethics. The chapter first offers a Kantian analysis of ‘moral status’ vocabulary. It then introduces some main themes of Kant’s interpersonal ethics: his system of distinctions between different duty-types we have towards others, others’ happiness as an obligatory end, the demand for practical love and respect, his list of specific duties we have towards others, and the practical purpose of Kant’s ethics in general. This clarifies what it means to include animals in moral concern in later chapters. It also introduces animal ethicists to unfamiliar aspects of Kant’s ethics.

1 What Is Moral Concern Kantian-Style?

This book is all about moral concern for animals: How can a Kantian framework account for the view that animals matter morally? To start with, let us consider what it means for anyone to ‘matter’ in Kant’s ethics. As stereotypes would have it, Kantian moral concern follows from a sort of moral algorithm. To be an object of moral concern is to fall within the scope of an application of the Categorical Imperative. However, in this chapter I aim to show how Kant’s conception of moral concern is at once much richer and much more down-to-earth.¹ This also makes it clearer why Kant’s framework could be interesting for animal ethicists to work with.

Kant himself did not use the now-standard vocabulary of ‘moral concern’, ‘moral standing’, ‘moral consideration’, and so on. He was not deeply concerned with the question where the moral boundary should be drawn. Hence, it takes some work to connect his vocabulary to that of today’s animal ethicists. Next up in this chapter, I will suggest a Kantian interpretation of the notion of ‘moral concern’. I will then highlight three key elements of Kant’s account of how we ought to treat others: first, his doctrine of obligatory ends, which prescribes (among other things) that we promote the happiness of others; second, his account of moral concern as a reconciliation of duties ‘of love’ with duties ‘of respect’; third, his division of our ethical duties towards others, which are put in terms of practical-emotional stances we ought to adopt or avoid vis à vis others, like ‘sympathetic participation’ and ‘arrogance’. Before concluding, I will add some remarks on the purpose of Kant’s account of moral concern. Kant differs from most of today’s animal ethicists in that he does not view the primary purpose of ethics either in revising widespread moral beliefs and practices or in advising public policy. Kant’s approach is rather that moral philosophy ought to restore and refine a moral standpoint ordinary people already endorse, but which is prone to corruption by our inclinations and self-serving rationalisations. I will explain how moral philosophy on this conception can still advance moral criticism and what other helpful uses it might have for animal ethicists. Overall, this chapter lays the foundation for the critical reflections and revisions in the next chapters.

To begin with, consider the notion of moral concern as it is used in contemporary animal ethics. It is a notion with several cognates: Whoever deserves² moral concern has ‘moral status’ (DeGrazia 1996; Warren 1997) or ‘moral standing’ (Frey 1988), is ‘morally significant’ (Pluhar 1995) or ‘considerable’ (Goodpaster 1978). What do we assert of an entity when we apply one of these predicates to it? First and foremost, the notion of moral concern is used for a moral demarcation: Who truly matters? In other words, the notion of moral concern and its cognates pick out their subject and mark out its treatment as a matter of special moral relations or principles. That which deserves moral concern ought to be at the centre of our moral reflections in a way that other things do not have to be. This is the core of the notion.

However, some authors mean something more specific by ‘moral concern’ or ‘moral status’. The notion can refer to a special status that demands a specific treatment for its bearer (over and above that of being particularly central in ethical reflections). Here, it can be useful to distinguish between formal and substantive senses of the terms. In a formal sense, to say that someone ‘deserves moral concern’ (is ‘considerable’, has ‘moral standing’, and so on) is merely to say that this individual can figure in moral relations or principles of a certain form. For instance, Warren explains that to have moral standing is “to be an entity towards which moral agents have, or can have, moral obligations” (Warren 1997, 3). What exactly those obligations demand is a separate question. Along similar lines, Korsgaard suggests that “‘moral standing’ is a stand-in, a kind of variable, for whatever it is that explains why we have obligations to the members of some group of entities” (Korsgaard 2018, 96). Thus, Korsgaard’s notion of moral standing implies only that there are some obligations towards an individual (or that there is something about the individual which gives rise to obligations). But again, the notion does not specify what exactly those obligations demand of us.

By contrast, a substantive notion of moral concern already brings some ‘moral baggage’ with it, in the sense of moral content that makes the notion action-guiding to an extent. Take, for instance, the notion of ‘moral status’ employed by Jaworska and Tannenbaum: “[A]n animal may be said to have moral status if its suffering is at least somewhat morally bad, on account of this animal itself and regardless of the consequences for other beings” (Jaworska and Tannenbaum 2018). Hence, to say that some entity has moral status is already to say something substantive about how we ought to treat it: Its suffering ought to be avoided, other things being equal. Similarly, when Hoff (1983) claims that Kant denies animals have “moral standing”, she is primarily concerned with his supposed indifference towards animal well-being (Hoff 1983, 67). To have moral standing, in Hoff’s sense of the term, is for one’s well-being to be a thing to be promoted (again, other things being equal). In this way, moral concern in a substantive sense is a notion implicitly tied to specific substantive moral principles about how to treat individuals. The difference between formal and substantive notions of moral concern is that substantive notions specify these principles, formal ones do not.

Among Kantians and Kant scholars, ‘moral concern’ and its cognates are not standardly used terms.³ The notion of ‘concern’ does appear once in a while as a non-technical expression (e.g. Wood 1998, 185; Svoboda 2012, 143, 2014, 320; Reath 2013, 208; Herman 2018, 174). Typically, however, Kant’s readers do not give a very central role to notions like ‘moral standing’ or ‘status’. They may even find them somewhat dubious and unclear (Sachs 2011; see also Hayward 1994, 130; Korsgaard 2018, 93ff.; Garthoff 2020). This is no coincidence. Kant’s moral philosophy emphatically takes its starting point in the perspective of the agent, not in the perspective of those on the receiving end of actions. For Kant, moral philosophy answers the question “What ought I to do?” (CPR A805/B833)—not primarily “What ought to be done to me?”. To begin thinking about ethical issues in terms of moral concern, from a Kantian point of view, is to put the cart before the horse. However, that does not entail that a Kantian cannot talk in terms of moral concern, but only that she must regard it as a function of moral agency, not vice versa. And when it comes to animal ethics, we do have good reasons to be interested in the recipients of actions, namely the animals: What ought to be done to them?⁴ So what notion of moral concern should a Kantian endorse?

One might expect that for Kant, the term ‘respect’ takes the place now usually taken by ‘moral concern’ and its cognates. After all, Kant is widely associated with the view that all persons deserve respect. It would be natural to understand this simply as his way of expressing that persons matter. However, to simply equate ‘respect’ with ‘moral concern’ would be a mistake. Kant has several distinct notions of ‘respect’, and none of them map neatly onto the notion of ‘moral concern’ commonly used by animal and environmental ethicists today.

To see why the vocabulary is not congruent—but also to get a first glimpse into Kant’s ethical universe—consider Kant’s notions of ‘respect’. The first and primary notion of respect at work in Kant’s moral philosophy is the notion of ‘respect for the moral law’. This term designates a feeling which enables the moral law to motivate action (G 4:400.29–33; CPrR 5:074.26–29). Of course, this notion of ‘respect’ cannot be very close to ‘moral concern’, simply because the object of this type of respect is the moral law, not a person.

Secondly, respect for the moral law can be mediated through the example of a person, which is what Kant calls ‘respect for persons’ (G 4:401FN; CPrR 5:077.06–18; see Klimchuk 2003, 45–48). There are at least two species of respect for persons in Kant’s writings.⁵ One is ‘respect’ in the sense of a feeling of honour or praise for someone who embodies a good will by acting morally well. Using the term in this way, Kant is ready to claim that not all people deserve equal respect, since not all people act equally well (MM 6:448.17; MM 6:468.06–13; see Garcia 2012, 72–75). He also emphasises that “respect is always directed only to persons, never to things”, where “things” is meant to include animals (CPrR 5:076.24).⁶ But these statements do not express that scoundrels and animals do not deserve moral concern in today’s vocabulary. Kant is talking about a feeling that responds to the moral worth of a good will, a kind of moral esteem or praise. Kant is quite simply saying that only moral agents are candidate objects for this kind of feeling. The other notion of ‘respect for persons’ we find Kant using is more egalitarian. It is a feeling appropriate to all persons, even scoundrels, in virtue of their capacity for morality, their humanity (G 4:436.02–06; see Garcia 2012, 81–83). Even though ‘respect’ in this sense takes a person for its object, we should not be too quick to equate the notion with that of ‘moral concern’. After all, ‘respect’ here still refers to a feeling we find ourselves having for others; ‘moral concern’ and its cognates do not. There is however a difficult question whether the requirement of moral concern can be developed out of the conditions of respect for humanity—I will turn to this question in Chap. 4.

Third, Kant uses the notion of ‘duties of respect’ (MM 6:462.02–03). This is one of the two types of ethical duties we have towards others, according to the Doctrine of Virtue. Here, ‘respect’ refers to a practical stance, not merely to a feeling (MM 6:449.23–30). To have respect in this sense is to adopt a maxim of not exalting ourselves above others (MM 6:449.32) and limiting our encroachment upon them out of a recognition that they are our equals in moral potential (MM 6:470.05–06). This sort of respect certainly forms a part of Kant’s account of substantive moral concern—of how we ought to treat those who matter morally. However, ‘respect’ does not fully capture the way in which we ought to treat others, since there is also another kind of ethical duty towards others called duties of love (MM 6:448.07; MM 6:449.17–22). Once again, Kant’s ‘respect’ does not equal ‘moral concern’.

What, then, does correspond to ‘moral concern’ in Kant’s system? To get the analysis off the ground, we should understand ‘moral concern’ as only one term in a set of interrelated quasi-technical terms: Moral concern is the appropriate attitude towards moral patients. Moral patients are all beings towards whom there are duties.

The Kantian way to lend meaning to these terms is to give primacy to the bottom row of Table 2.1 and work our way upwards. ‘Duty towards X’ is the only notion in the table that also appears in Kant’s own writings. The rest can be developed from it. We can develop formal notions of patienthood and concern in this table if we leave open which exact duties are at issue. Just as well, however, can we fill in specific duties in the bottom row to yield a substantive notion of concern on top.

Table 2.1 Terms related to moral concern

Moral patients, accordingly, should be understood to be those towards whom (some specific) Kantian duties are directed.⁷ Moral concern is the appropriate attitude towards individuals specifically insofar as they are moral patients. Hence, moral concern is the attitude that is appropriate vis à vis those towards whom we have duties. Among other things, we can then characterise a formal notion of moral concern ‘Kantian-style’ as the attitude of recognising that one has duties towards some individual and of resolve to do as one’s duty towards them demands (assuming that this is the appropriate attitude to take vis à vis those to whom we have duties).

Of course, this understanding of ‘moral concern’ renders the exegetical question trivial whether Kant grants animals moral concern. He clearly does not, since he denies that there are duties towards animals. To Kantians, this may seem somewhat dysphemistic. To claim that Kant ‘denies animals moral concern’ makes it sound as if he allowed just any treatment of animals, no matter how cruel. This he does not—he is opposed to the cruel and ungrateful treatment of animals (MM 6:443.10–16; see Chap. 3). So it is worth keeping in mind that being the object of moral concern, to matter morally, is not strictly the same thing as being protected by certain duties. One can be protected without mattering for one’s own sake.

Some in the literature would tend to understand moral concern differently. One option is to use ‘moral concern’ to designate a stance of sympathy and gratitude (which Kant asks us to adopt vis à vis animals). However, this use of the label is somewhat ad hoc.⁸ Just as we have duties of sympathy and gratitude ‘regarding’ animals, we have duties of aesthetic appreciation ‘regarding’ plants and lifeless nature, and still other duties ‘regarding’ God (MM 6:443.27–31). Why should we single out objects of sympathy and gratitude, but not those of aesthetic appreciation? More consistent, but still unattractive, would it be to use ‘moral concern’ as a label designating an attitude towards anything ‘regarding’ which we have duties. This label would apply to flatly anything in this world and beyond, from plants and crystallisations all the way up to God Almighty (since there are Kantian duties ‘regarding’ all these entities, MM 6:443.02–32; see Chap. 3). But the label ‘moral concern’ is supposed to designate some special moral significance that not all entities have. So I will use ‘moral concern’ in one of the received ways (Warren 1997, 3): as a label denoting the appropriate attitude to beings towards whom we have duties, not just regarding.⁹

Finally, there may be another worry about the vocabulary proposed here: If moral concern is analysable in terms of our duties, why talk in terms of moral concern at all? Why not cut out the middleman and simply talk about our duties towards animals? Indeed, much of the discussion in the coming chapters will be in terms of our duties. Still, the vocabulary of ‘moral concern’ and its cognates is useful for three reasons: First, it connects the common professional language of animal ethicists to that of Kant scholars. Second, it enables us to talk in terms of moral attitudes, which will be useful when discussing the role of respect for humanity (Chap. 4) and whether the requirement of concern for others can be developed out of it. Third, the vocabulary of attitudes emphasises an aspect of Kantian duties which is often downplayed or overlooked, namely their attachment to a feeling, caring, other-oriented human being. Hence, though much of the present project revolves around our duties, I will also continue to make use of the vocabulary of ‘moral concern’.

Towards whom, then, do we have duties? Kant never states an explicit account of the boundary of moral concern. What he does provide, however, are some necessary conditions that must be met in order for duties to obtain towards someone:

Judging according to mere reason, a human being has no duty other than merely to a human being (himself or another); for his duty to any subject is moral necessitation by this subject’s will. The necessitating (obligating) subject must therefore, first, be a person, and, secondly, this person must be given as an object of experience. (MM 6:442.08–13)

The first condition, being capable of ‘necessitating’ or ‘constraining’¹⁰ others, is what excludes animals—as well as plants and lifeless nature, for that matter (MM 6:442.28–31). The second condition, being an object of experience, is what excludes God and angels (MM 6:442.31–33).

Kant does not make it explicit what interpersonal ‘necessitation’ consists in. A more detailed discussion of this issue will have to wait until Chap. 5. In any case, however, it is fair to assume that Kant has a relation in mind which can only obtain between beings capable of morality. Only a will capable of ‘constraining’ itself can ‘constrain’ others. So Kant’s criteria imply that we can have duties only towards finite rational beings capable of morality, and human beings are the only such creatures we know (MM 6:442.16–18).

Kant’s first condition raises the question whether we have duties towards literally all members of the human species, including those who are not capable of morality (Dombrowski 1997, 30; Kain 2009, 61). It would seem harsh of Kant to deny that we have any duties, say, towards small infants and certain people with disabilities. Kant here faces a modus tollens argument commonly known in animal ethics as the ‘argument from species overlap’: If we have no duties towards animals, there are also no duties towards certain human beings; but we do have duties towards all human beings; therefore we have some duties towards animals (Horta 2014, 145; see also Dombrowski 1997, 1f.). Just as well known, however, are the standard responses to the argument: emphasising the importance of potentiality, similarity, or membership in a kind (Frey 1977, 188; Cohen 2001, 37). If we can argue, for instance, that Kantian moral concern hinges not on an actual necessitating or constraining activity of the will, but rather on the predisposition to become a being with a constraining will, his view does not have to conflict with our commitment to the moral status of all human beings. As Kain has shown in great detail, Kant’s biological and psychological views allow for a case along these lines (Kain 2009). However, as Kain also points out, such a case would have to rely on a species essentialism that is incompatible with an evolutionary perspective (Kain 2009, 101). Only if all species members have an essential potential in common, and only if human essence in particular includes the potential to become capable of morality, does the argument from species overlap let Kant off the hook. So even though the historical Kant believed in the moral status of literally all human beings, for today’s Kantians his supporting argument creates greater problems than it solves. In general, this is yet another reason to be interested in a version of Kantianism that manages to include beings incapable of morality.

What this section has argued is that we can and should understand Kantian moral concern—what it means to ‘matter’ in Kant’s ethical universe—as a function of duties. Moral concern is the appropriate attitude towards moral patients, and moral patients are those towards whom we have duties. Kant believes that all and only moral agents matter in this sense. Before delving into the question how we might disagree, let me illustrate the treatment human beings receive in Kant’s system.

2 Kant’s Taxonomy of Duties

Having some grasp of the beings towards whom we have duties, what actual duties do we have? Kant has an interesting way of ordering our duties, based on distinctions that are no longer as familiar as they were to readers of European philosophy in the eighteenth century. In particular, Kant follows the tradition in distinguishing between perfect versus imperfect duties, duties towards self versus others, duties of right versus virtue, and within duties of virtue to others, between duties of love versus respect.¹¹ He however offers his own version of each distinction, and each revolves around a property of our duties. Hence, we say a great deal about the nature of some specific duty when we categorise it as, say, an imperfect duty of love towards others.

To see Kant’s distinctions in action, consider the four examples of duties he mentions in the Groundwork:

• (1) Not to commit prudential suicide (G 4:397.33; G 4:421.24)

• (2) Not to give false promises (G 4:422.15)

• (3) To develop our natural talents (G 4:422.37)

• (4) To be beneficent (G 4:398.08; G 4:423.17)

Even if one has not read any Kant before, one can recognise some systematicity in this list. The first two are put in negative terms, the latter two in positive terms. This corresponds to Kant’s distinction between perfect and imperfect duties. The crucial property of perfect duties is that they do not allow for any exceptions (G 4:421FN). Whenever we can observe a perfect duty (e.g. not to give a false promise), we must. By contrast, imperfect duties allow for observance in many different situations and in many different ways, so that we must choose when and how to observe them. For example, there are many opportunities to cultivate our natural talents, and we must judge which of them we should actually take. In the Groundwork, Kant also provides a slightly more technical account of the perfect-imperfect distinction: Perfect duties are those we violate when we adopt maxims that cannot be universalised. Imperfect duties, by contrast, are those which we violate by adopting maxims which we could universalise, but could not will in their universalised form (G 4:424.01–14; see Mongrovius 29:610).

What we can also see from Kant’s four examples is that the duties not to commit prudential suicide and to develop our natural talents have directly to do with the agent herself, while the duties not to give false promises and to be beneficent have more directly to do with her treatment of others. This corresponds to Kant’s distinction between duties to self and others. The existence of duties to self is a crucial—and in comparison to today’s dominant approaches to animal ethics, a fairly unique—aspect of Kant’s outlook on morality: that how we treat ourselves matters morally as much as how we treat others. Morality is not just a matter of respecting another’s boundaries and being beneficent, but it is also a matter of comporting oneself with the right stance towards oneself.

All of that said, the Groundwork is not intended as a full account of what all our ethical duties demand of us (see Timmermann 2007a, xi). That is not the Groundwork’s task. Its task is to establish the supreme moral principle, the Categorical Imperative, based on a conception of the good will Kant presumes we share (see Wood 2007, 53; Trampota 2013, 145). The purpose of the Categorical Imperative itself is not to state a particular duty. We may have a duty to obey the Categorical Imperative, to be sure, but it is not obvious that this way of putting our duty is itself action-guiding. It may be more like a duty ‘to do the right thing’—a duty we may have, but which does not substantively tell us what we ought to do (for more on this see Chap. 4).

Kant’s most developed account of what we ought to do comes in what is arguably his principal work in moral philosophy (Trampota 2013, 141), the Metaphysics of Morals of 1797. In its second half, the Doctrine of Virtue, he aims to provide a taxonomy of our moral duties, that is, a system of distinctions. Contained in this taxonomy are both distinctions already mentioned, between duties to self and others, and between perfect and imperfect duties.¹²

Another interesting aspect of Kant’s moral philosophy is that it addresses not just the rightness or wrongness of mere acts, but also the moral quality of motives. For both, Kant has a category for duties: ‘Strict’ duties, also called ‘duties of right’, prescribe mere acts irrespective of motive. ‘Wide’ duties or ‘duties of virtue’ prescribe that we adopt certain ends. The main characteristic of ‘wide’ duties is that their observance allows for a certain “latitude” (MM 6:390.06–09). What Kant means, however, is not that we can pick and choose whether to observe our wide duties (MM 6:390.09–12). Since they are duties, we ought always to observe them whenever they obtain. Kant rather means to say that wide duties prescribe that we adopt certain ends or maxims, rather than that we perform certain acts (MM 6:388.32–33). But maxims or ends are, by their nature, general and can get in each other’s way. Kant’s own example is that a maxim of charity towards all human beings may be restricted by a maxim of parental love (MM 6:390.12). So the distinguishing feature of ‘wide’ duties is that they can restrict each other, even though we must still not make any exceptions for the sake of our inclinations.

To animal ethicists who do not specialise in Kant scholarship, the notion of a wide duty should be particularly noteworthy in two respects: First, Kant’s moral philosophy is not completely negative and procedural, in the sense of only giving necessary moral conditions for our maxims (an impression one might have gotten from Rawls’s influential ‘four-step CI procedure’, Rawls 2000, 167ff.). In the vocabulary of wide duties, Kant positively states ends that we ought to adopt. Secondly, Kant’s moral philosophy is not completely absolutist, in the sense of prescribing specific duties that must be obeyed without regard to the context of the particular situation. In principle, we should always consider any wide duty in context with all other duties. Because this is impossible to do in practice, Kant does not answer first-order normative questions in ethics with a strict ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Rather, he highlights certain considerations (see Wood 2007, 48f.) and then provokes his readers to judge for themselves how their duties interact by means of ‘casuistical questions’ at the end of many sections of the Doctrine of Virtue (MM 6:423.17–424.08; MM 6:426.01–32; MM 6:428.01–26; MM 6:431.16–34; MM 6:433.06–434.19; MM 6:437.03–26; MM 6:454.01–28; MM 6:458.01–19).

Besides the perfect-imperfect contrast, the distinction between duties to self and duties to others is the central ordering principle of the Doctrine of Virtue. So the ‘directionality’ of duties—their character of being directed ‘towards’ someone—takes a central place. Unfortunately, just as Kant does not provide a positive account of moral patienthood, he does not provide a positive account of the directionality of our duties. What is clear, in any case, is that our duties to self and others prescribe different ends. Kant calls these the ‘ends that are also duties’ (MM 6:382.06–07). Our overarching duty to ourselves is to promote our own moral perfection (MM 6:391.29.; MM 6:398). ‘Moral perfection’ here denotes moral goodness, but not only that. It also refers more generally to being a good observer of duties, to act in a way that is appropriate to a subject capable of morality. This includes keeping ourselves in good moral shape, for instance by avoiding overindulgence in drugs which make it harder to determine our actions freely (MM 6:427.12–15). It also includes acting in a way that acknowledges our fundamental moral equality to all other rational beings, which proscribes being servile to others (MM 6:434.32–435.05). For readers today, the word ‘integrity’ might more intuitively describe what Kant means by ‘perfection’.

Duties towards others, by contrast, can be subsumed under the obligatory end of promoting the happiness of others (MM 6:393.10; MM 6:398)—this will be the topic of the next section.¹³ Before exploring this issue further, we can already see that Kant would not think of substantive moral concern as one uniform attitude which we ought to have towards both ourselves and others. Regarding others, moral concern consists in such stances as practical benevolence, gratitude, and sympathetic participation (though it must be properly restricted by respect, see Sect. 2.4 below). These are appropriate attitudes to beings whose happiness it is our duty to promote. By contrast, moral concern for oneself has little to do with promoting one’s own happiness—it is not prudence or self-love by any stretch. Rather, it is the appropriate attitude towards the being whose moral perfection we ought to promote (ourselves). We can take this to be an attitude of moral aspiration, but plausibly also of a certain moral rigour or discipline. In Kant’s own words, he asks the human being “to be of a robust and cheerful mind (animus strenuus et hilaris) in observing its duties” (MM 6:484.21–22). I should add that we also have what Kant calls an ‘indirect’ duty to secure our own happiness, since being severely deprived makes it more tempting for us to violate our duties (MM 6:388.26–28). But in general, there is no duty to promote our own happiness—that is other people’s task.

3 Others’ Happiness as an Obligatory End

Kant is often portrayed as a philosopher inimical to happiness, or at least uninterested in it. Indeed, Kant did hold that an action’s moral worth does not depend on whether it produces happiness, but on whether it springs from a good will (GMS 4:393.05–24). However, to say that happiness does not determine moral worth is not to deny it all value. Happiness is valuable for Kant in the sense that it is something we ought to bring about in others. Kant’s way of expressing this is to say that the happiness of others is an “end that is at the same time one’s duty” (MM 6:393.11; MM 6:398), which I will call an ‘obligatory end’ for short. To be clear, our duty is not to like another’s happiness as a matter of passive affect (MM 6:402.22–25), which we cannot force ourselves to do. Nor is it simply to wish that others achieve happiness without taking any action (MM 6:452.01–03). Rather, our duty is to adopt a maxim of beneficence, of aiming to bring about another’s happiness by means of our actions (MM 6:452.04–05; see Moran 2017, 322). While ‘beneficence’ denotes the successful act of promoting another’s happiness (MM 6:453.02; see Moran 2016, 343), Kant calls the stance we ought to take towards others’ ‘practical benevolence’ (MM 6:452.04).

At first sight, this moral instruction seems very coarse-grained—as if others had a certain simple property, happiness, which we must strive to intensify. However, this obligatory end also admits of a more fine-grained description if we take a closer look at what ‘happiness’ is according to Kant.

First, happiness consists in well-being that can be qualitatively physical as well as qualitatively moral (Kang 2015, 14; see Zöller 2013, 23). By ‘physical well-being’, Kant means the greatest possible amount of pleasure (CPJ 5:208.22–25; CPrR 5:117.25–26; B834/A806; CPrR 5:073.09–11; G 4:399.12; CPrR 5:022.17–19). For instance, in the third Critique, Kant calls happiness “the greatest sum (regarding both amount and duration) of life’s pleasantness” (CPJ 5:208.22–25). On the other hand, however, Kant also acknowledges that human beings feel a distinct kind of pleasure upon following the moral law (MM 6:378.13–14), “a state of peace of soul and contentment” (MM 6:377.21), also simply called “moral pleasure” (MM 6:391.12). Hence, although Kant’s conception of happiness is hedonistic (happiness is a function of hedonic states), he accepts that there is a kind of hedonic state we can only experience because we are capable of morality. Physical and moral well-being do not represent two distinct kinds of happiness, but they represent qualitatively different kinds of hedonic states that both contribute to the happiness of a human being overall. For this reason, we human beings are happy only if we are content both with our natural state and with our own moral conduct. Conversely, physical pain is a threat to happiness, but so is a bad conscience or self-contempt.

Secondly, happiness is something we strive for as a matter of inclination. This is the practical side of Kant’s conception of human happiness (see Kang 2015, 24–27). Kant repeatedly characterises happiness as an end of human beings (G 4:415.28–33; CPrR 5:124.21–25) and as that which “everyone unavoidably already wants by himself” (MM 6:386.03–04). Kant also emphatically calls a person’s happiness the condition under which “everything goes according to his wish and will” (CPrR 5:124.22–24; see MM 6:480.21–22). This practical characterisation of happiness does not contradict the hedonic one, but it complements and specifies it. Happiness is a matter of positive hedonic states, but our pursuit of it is structured by practical reason.

The claim that we naturally seek to promote our own happiness plays an important role in Kant’s ethics: “So, when what counts is happiness, as an end that it is my duty to effect, it must be the happiness of other human beings, whose (permissible) end I thereby also make my own” (MM 6:388.05–08). Thus, Kant asks us to adopt another’s end. To be certain, Kant here only means to assert that we ought to adopt the end of others de re, not de dicto. That is to say, we do not have to adopt whatever ends others might happen to set for themselves. Rather, we ought to adopt the end which other human beings can be presumed to pursue, which is their happiness. Even if a human being were brainwashed into pursuing some other ultimate end, what we should make our end is still their happiness. However, an agent’s self-chosen ends and inclinations are nevertheless crucial for beneficence. In perhaps a slightly hyperbolic remark, Kant claims about other human beings: “What they may count as belonging to their happiness is left to their own judgement” (MM 6:388.08–09). Kant does not mean to say that we can will it so that any object of choice makes us happy—we cannot decide that going hungry should make us happy. What we can decide, however, is by what means we pursue our happiness. And when it comes to beneficence, Kant’s picture is that others’ ends and inclinations should be our principal guideposts. As he puts it in the Groundwork, “the ends of a subject who is an end in itself must as far as possible be also my ends” (G 4:430.24–27). And in the Doctrine of Virtue: “The duty of love of one’s neighbour can therefore also be expressed thus: it is the duty to make the ends of others my own” (MM 6:340.03–05). And later again: “I cannot be beneficent to anyone according to my concepts of happiness (except for children during their minority or the mentally disturbed), but only according to the concepts of him whom I would like to render a benefit by urging a gift upon him” (MM 6:454.18–21).¹⁴ Hence, insofar as others are competent pursuers of their own happiness, our primary task is to assist them in their own self-chosen endeavours. This gives Kant’s account of beneficence an anti-paternalistic flavour.

How does reason involve itself in the pursuit of happiness? On this matter, Kant is quite explicit: Reason has a “commission from the side of [a human being’s] sensibility which it cannot refuse” (CPrR 5:061.26–27). It is the ‘commission’ to “form maxims with a view to happiness” (CPrR 5:061.28–29)—that is to say, to choose the means to the preconceived end of happiness. So instrumental practical reason only ‘sets ends’ in a very restricted sense. It cannot set any ends ex nihilo, as perhaps a more existentialist view might have it. Instrumental practical reason is purely in the business of choosing means to happiness, even if these means are themselves intermediary ends.

When Kant invokes this picture, he is usually concerned with arguing that reason is not restricted to the task of merely choosing means to a preordained end—that reason can by itself be practical. Take his argument in the second Critique: If there is a ‘higher’ faculty of desire, a faculty of desire that requires reason, then there must be an end that takes its origin in reason alone, not the senses (CPrR 5:062.01–07). Otherwise, reason would only be in the business of reordering the materials provided to it by sensibility. Similarly, in the Groundwork, Kant remarks that reason is quite inept at securing happiness, or at least less apt than instinct, and that therefore securing happiness cannot be reason’s true purpose (G 4:396.14–24). Still, both these arguments presuppose that instrumental practical reason really does involve itself in our pursuit of happiness, inept as it may be.

Inherent in Kant’s conception of reason’s involvement in the pursuit of happiness is the idea of a system or hierarchy of ends and inclinations. An order is necessary, for one thing, because our various inclinations and ends can conflict, and reason has to be the arbiter. As Kant puts it in the Religion: “Considered in themselves natural inclinations are good […]; we must rather only curb them, so that they will not wear each other out but will instead be harmonised into a whole called happiness” (Rel 6:058.01–06). Another kind of hierarchy is established by instrumental-rational considerations. Our non-moral ends are themselves practical means to further ends, and all our non-moral ends can ultimately be subsumed under the end of happiness, which Kant calls our “whole” end for this reason (CPrR 5:124.24).

The idea that reason orders and harmonises our pursuit of happiness has important ramifications: If our duty is to promote the happiness of others, and if we are to use their own ends and inclinations as guideposts, then evidently we do not have to promote another’s next best inclination or end. Rather, we should employ our own capacities of practical reason to judge, as best we can, which of the other person’s ends or inclinations we should promote. We must regard their pursuit of happiness as a systematic union and do what best promotes the higher-up ends and inclinations. In this way, we can derive quite specific instructions from Kant’s doctrine of obligatory ends.

What I hope the discussion in this section conveys to animal ethicists is that, first, Kant has quite intricate and systematic views on happiness, and he gives the promotion of happiness an important place in ethics. Secondly, however, Kant’s conception of the human pursuit of happiness operates in terms of rational capacities. This will pose some difficulties when we try to modify the framework and include animals in it—I will return to these difficulties in Chap. 6.

4 Practical Love and Respect for Others

As we have just seen, we can derive very general and very specific ethical instructions from Kant’s doctrine of obligatory ends. However, Kant himself devotes most of his attention in the Doctrine of Virtue to duties at an in-between level of generality. Among our duties towards others, he distinguishes two types and then goes on to characterise what we might call practical-emotional stances we ought to take (or avoid to take) towards others, such as gratitude (MM 6: 454.30), envy, modesty, and malicious glee (MM 6:458.23–24). These are stances in the sense that they are attitudes we voluntarily take towards others, and which we would be capable of avoiding. They are practical in the sense that they bear a connection to action rather than being entirely contemplative. And they are emotional in the sense that they bear an intimate connection to feelings we find ourselves having about others and ourselves.

Kant’s “division” (MM 6:448.08) of duties towards others is effectively a taxonomy of practical-emotional stances, either to be adopted or to be avoided. The chief distinction in this taxonomy is between duties of love and duties of respect (MM 6:448.10–15). Duties of love ask us to adopt practical-emotional stances that befit the promotion of the happiness of others—Kant names beneficence, gratitude, and sympathetic participation in another’s weal and woe. Duties of love are all about practical love, that is the active promotion of another’s happiness. By contrast, duties of respect put certain restrictions on how we should go about pursuing this obligatory end. Other human beings stand under the moral law and therefore share with all others the fundamental potential for morality (no matter how badly they actually act). We should recognise, and act in accordance with, this fundamental moral equality. In particular, this implies that we should not exalt ourselves above others (MM 6:449.32; see Sensen 2013, 352), neither by being arrogant or contemptuous towards them, nor by being overbearingly beneficent without regard for their self-esteem. As Kant writes:

Thus we will recognize our obligation to be beneficent towards someone poor; but since this favour yet also involves dependence of his weal upon my generosity, which after all demeans the other, it is our duty to spare the recipient this humiliation and to preserve his respect for himself by our comportment, representing this beneficence either as merely what is owed or as a slight labour of love. (MM 6:448.22–449.02)

Kant’s point is not that there is anything inherently humiliating about benefitting from another’s help. It is rather that generosity also burdens the beneficiary with a duty to be grateful (Moran 2017, 314), as well as a social expectation to pay back what was given. As the Collins lecture notes report Kant saying:

A debtor is at all times under the constraint of having to treat the person he is obliged to with politeness and flattery; […] But he who pays promptly for everything can act freely, and nobody will hamper him in doing so. (Collins 27:341f.)

So the real threat to moral self-esteem is not beneficence in itself, but the social expectations which it places on the beneficiary. We fail to treat others as equally free rational beings if we burden them with too many duties of gratitude and politeness. So proper respect for others should constrain the extent to which we are beneficent to others and the way in which we present our own beneficence (“as merely what is owed or as a slight labour of love”, MM 6:448.26–449.01).

The interplay between these two kinds of duties is crucial for the way in which Kant’s ethical system works in application. In several different ways, duties of love and duties of respect are mutually opposing forces, and our moral treatment of others is a matter of balancing or reconciling their contrary demands. Kant draws three principal distinctions between the two duty-types:

First, and most emphatically, Kant draws a normative distinction: Fulfilling some of our duties puts the patient under a reciprocal obligation (MM 6:448.10–12). In some instances, the patient acquires an obligation towards the benefactor to be grateful (MM 6:454.31–32). Such obligations only arise in the case of duties of love, not duties of respect. That is, we have a duty to be grateful for what others do to us with love, but not for what they do to us with respect. Kant also expresses this normative difference by designating duties of love as ‘meritorious’ duties and duties of respect as ‘owed’ duties (MM 6:448.13–14).

To ward off a misunderstanding, we should not confuse the meritorious with the supererogatory (Timmermann 2006, 22; Vogt 2009, 221; Schönecker 2013, 313). Our duties of love are meritorious, but they have an obligating character just as much as owed duties do. To pick an example: It is an obligation, not supererogatory, to be beneficent (MM 6:452.26–30). If we fail to observe this duty, we have reason for self-reproach, and others may have reason to morally object to our conduct. And still, whoever happens to be our beneficiary acquires a duty to be grateful. Conversely, those who do not happen to have benefitted have no grounds to object (so long as we were sufficiently beneficent), since there is no claim to be the beneficiary of any particular act of beneficence. In this way, duties of love do not correspond to any particular claim on the part of the patient, but duties of respect do.

Secondly, Kant draws a phenomenological distinction: Our observance of some duties is accompanied by a feeling of love, for other duties, it is a feeling of respect for others (MM 6:448.14–15).¹⁵ Both of these feelings are therefore associated with Kantian moral concern. While Kant himself stresses the feelings we have for others, we could plausibly claim that the duty-types are also accompanied by different feelings about ourselves, or about the relation between ourselves and the patient. When we act from a duty of respect, we feel that we owe someone some treatment. By contrast, when we act from a duty of love, we feel that we grant the beneficiary something. Hence, we take ourselves to be in a very different position vis à vis the moral patient.

As we can see, moral life according to Kant has an important emotional dimension.¹⁶ Our fulfilment of duties towards others is necessarily accompanied by the characteristic feelings of love and respect. On this note, consider also that Kant emphasises the distinct feeling of respect for the moral law which plays a crucial role in any moral motivation according to Kant (e.g. G 4:400.18–19; G 4:401FN; CPrR 5:081.10–13). Conscience, too, is connected to feelings: “No human being is altogether without moral feeling; for complete lack of receptivity to this sensation would render him morally dead” (MM 6:400.09–11). And even then, we have not listed all the emotions Kant acknowledges to play an important role in our moral lives (Schönecker 2013, 326). Built into Kant’s conception of moral concern are also the more contingent feelings of “rejoicing with others and feeling pity for them” (MM 6:456.20), gratitude (MM 6:454.03–04), “gratification in the happiness (well-being) of others” (MM 6:452.27), as well as the emotional aspect of practical-emotional stances discussed by Kant, such as the aforementioned “envy, ingratitude, and malicious glee” (MM 6:458.23f). All of this goes to show that the stereotype of Kant as a philosopher dismissive of feelings is unwarranted.

Third, Kant draws a substantive distinction: Our duties of love demand something else than our duties of respect. Duties of love demand that we adopt and observe a maxim of practical benevolence towards others (MM 6:449.17–22; see Rinne 2018, 132). Duties of respect, by contrast, demand that we adopt a maxim of limiting our self-esteem in view of others’ dignity (MM 6:449.23–30).¹⁷ We ought to acknowledge others as our moral equals, as beings who, like ourselves, have a potential for moral goodness that nothing else in the world has. Kant illustrates the difference with the metaphor of an ‘attractive force’ (love) and a ‘repellent force’ (respect) (MM 6:470.04–05). What Kant is getting at is that some of our duties encourage getting involved in others’ affairs, while other duties demand that we do not encroach upon others (Sensen 2013, 344).

As central as they are to Kant’s account of moral concern for others, duties of respect also pose some problems for Kant’s taxonomy. How can duties of respect count as duties of virtue, which are supposed to prescribe a positive end, when their demand is essentially negative (Fahmy 2013, 729)? How can they count as duties towards others, if they do not demand that we promote the happiness of others as an obligatory end, but instead that we limit our beneficence (Fahmy 2013, 726f.)? Kant seems to think that the recognition of another’s equal humanity puts certain normative constraints on our relations to others quite independently from the two obligatory ends. Frankly, this is an area in which Kant’s taxonomy is not very orderly. Part of my argument in Chap. 6 will rest on a purposeful recategorisation of duties of respect which removes the confusion and makes it clearer why we ought not to exalt ourselves above others and why this requirement can restrict our beneficence. For the moment, what I hope animal ethicists can gain from this discussion is that Kant’s account of our duties to others revolves around the reconciliation of duties of love with duties of respect (even if the origin of the latter is admittedly somewhat obscure).

As Kant puts it, duties of love and respect are “accessorily connected” (MM 6:447.22).¹⁸ That is, some duties obtain only because certain others obtain, such that “one duty […] accedes, as it were, to another” (Schönecker 2013, 322). This order results from the way moral agents cognise and act on the moral law. Kant asserts that all our duties “are really always united with each other according to the law in a single duty, yet only in such a way that now one duty, now the other constitutes the principle in the subject, such that one duty is joined to the other accessorily” (MM 6:448.19–22).¹⁹ The picture Kant is sketching here is that of a net of interconnected duties, each representing some aspect of what we ought to do overall. Were we to formulate the “single duty” in which all our duties are united, it would either be an infinite conjunct of duties, which we cannot cognise, or it would simply be a duty to observe the Categorical Imperative, which does not give specific action-guidance. Our best option is to cognise some specific duties at a time. Hence, any statement of a specific duty gives only an incomplete account of what we ought to do. However, recognition of one duty leads us to recognition of another, and so we can begin to adjust and complete the picture of what we ought to do on the whole. This is the mutual restriction characteristic of ‘wide’ duties, or duties of virtue, in general. The only way to find the right balance of practical love and respect, as well as between duties to self and others, is to continually engage with our duties and consider them in context with each other, and with the facts of the particular situation. For this reason, Kant also adds what he calls ‘casuistical questions’ to some of his discussions of duties of virtue (MM 6:423.17–424.08; MM 6:426.01–32; MM 6:428.01–26; MM 6:431.16–34; MM 6:433.06–434.19; MM 6:437.03–26; MM 6:454.01–28; MM 6:458.01–19). To pick an example concerning the duty to self not to commit suicide and the duty of beneficence to others:

A man already sensed hydrophobia, effected by the bite of a mad dog; and, after declaring he had never heard of someone who was cured, he took his own life, lest—as he said in a piece of writing he left behind—he also make others unhappy in his doglike madness (the onset of which he already felt). The question is whether he did wrong in this. (MM 6:423.32–424.02)

Kant never resolves these examples, and that is exactly the point. His intention is not to test the reader’s comprehension of his ethical system, as if it were an algorithm that always yields a definite moral injunction. Rather, Kant wants to encourage his readers to engage in reflections of their own, recognise apparently conflicting duties, and try to find a resolution that best suffices all demands. Ultimately, he trusts that ordinary agents, if they pay proper attention and reflect thoroughly, will be able to judge what is to be done in the particular situation.

Overall, Kant’s central demand when it comes to our treatment of other human beings is that we should treat them with the right balance of practical love and practical respect. We ought to be beneficent to each other while not encroaching upon their affairs too much. When human beings mutually treat each other in this way, Kant calls their relation “friendship” (MM 6:469.17–18). As far as interpersonal morality is concerned, this is his moral ideal.

5 Kant’s List of Duties Towards Others

Having gained an impression of the architecture of Kant’s taxonomy, let us consider the specific duties it contains. Since ethical duties are ‘wide’ and hence must always be considered in context (with facts and our other duties), it can be somewhat misleading to list them one by one. Kant is well aware of this. His intent is decidedly not to present iron laws that must be followed irrespective of the situation. What Kant does provide in the Doctrine of Virtue is a series of spotlights, emphasising duties which he deems mentionable and in need of explanation.²⁰ This series should not be understood as an exhaustive list of all a human being’s duties. First of all, Kant only lists duties all human beings have, independently of our contingent “condition” (MM 6:468.15–16), such as being morally pure or corrupted, educated or uneducated, healthy or sick. Secondly, some all-too-obvious examples of duties and vices do not make Kant’s list, such as the prohibition of murder and bodily harm (Sensen 2013, 357). To be sure, such actions also belong in the Doctrine of Right (as Sensen points out, ibid.). However, it would seem perfectly in line with the idea of another’s happiness as an obligatory end to say that we should adopt the end of not harming others in the first place, which would be a duty of virtue.²¹ But it is not a duty Kant considers to be in need of particular elucidation.²²

Kant chooses to focus on a handful of duties of virtue, often paying even more attention to the vices opposed to the respective duties. In particular, Kant discusses the following duties and vices²³ (Table 2.2):

Table 2.2 Kant’s list of duties towards others

At first sight, the listed duties appear like prescriptions of general dispositions that will be conducive to the promotion of happiness overall. And indeed, Kant does explain some of these duties in terms of “propensities” (MM 6:458.28), that is to say, in terms of dispositions. Still, Kant’s goal is not simply to provide rules that, on the whole, lead to the promotion of happiness. His point is not that of a rule-utilitarian. Kant’s point is rather that for beings like us, promoting the happiness of others requires that we take certain practical-emotional stances and avoid others. These stances are a matter of how we see and set out to treat others. They are not merely instrumentally conducive to fulfilment of our duty to promote happiness. They are necessary aspects of duty fulfilment, at least for beings like us.

6 Kant’s Restorative Project in Moral Philosophy

Having introduced Kant’s conception of moral concern for others, let me add a thought on the purpose of this conception. Why, in the first place, does Kant establish the obligatory ends of another’s happiness and our own perfection, his account of love and respect, and his list of duties? This question is worth asking because Kant’s project in moral philosophy differs crucially both from that of many neo-Kantian philosophers and that of most animal ethicists today.

On the one hand, Kant’s project at this point is not to disprove radical moral scepticism or nihilism. This is the aim of many neo-Kantian constructivists who argue that even a moral sceptic or nihilist is implicitly committed to the rational standards from which morality arises (most notably Korsgaard 1986, 1996, and Velleman 2009). To be certain, Kant does consider the possibility that morality might be a “chimera” (G 4:445.08; G 4:407.17) and that the concept of duty might be “empty” (G 4:421.12). His elaborations on morality and freedom in Groundwork III and the second Critique are intended to tackle this problem to some extent. However, it is not a problem Kant is too concerned with overall. As Timmermann points out, “Kant’s problem is the worry of someone who is well disposed towards morality but cannot understand it” (Timmermann 2007a, xxiii). In contrast to a moral sceptic or nihilist, such a person shares at least an awareness of her duties, even though she might second-guess herself about whether these duties truly obtain. Accordingly, Kant’s central project in moral philosophy is not to disprove an imaginary opponent who is fundamentally opposed to notions of morality and duty. It is rather to use philosophical means to strengthen respect for the moral law, and trust in the concept of duty, for those who are already broadly on board. In the Groundwork, he does this by giving the moral law a tangible representation in the various formulas of the Categorical Imperative. The Doctrine of Virtue, where we find Kant’s substantive account of moral concern, is a continuation of this project. Here, he begins from the moral law and derives from it various duties we already take ourselves to have (see Trampota 2013, 145f.). Thus, Kant means to solidify our trust in our ordinary moral feelings by showing that these feelings have a rational basis. Moral philosophy serves as a reminder that we really do have the duties we typically think we have and that they take lexical normative priority over the demands of our inclinations.

On the other hand, in contrast to many animal ethicists today, Kant’s primary goal is not to establish a philosophical ground for moral objections against widespread moral beliefs and practices. His thought is not meant to be at odds with everyday moral thinking, neither in its terms nor in its upshots (Timmermann 2007a, xii). According to Kant, all human beings have access to the moral law and are basically capable of judging what conforms with it. They are in no desperate need of philosophers to open their eyes to a moral truth that would otherwise be inaccessible. Such a conception would in fact run counter to Kant’s aim of instilling trust in ordinary moral feelings.

At first sight, this might come as a disappointment to animal ethicists—at least to those of us who value philosophy’s potential to challenge established orders and help people to think differently. An important purpose of contemporary animal ethics is to critique wrongs committed, accepted, and endorsed by an overwhelming majority of human beings. This is possible only if moral philosophy can set people right about their duties. A purely vindicatory project would be doomed to moral standstill.

However, Kant does provide ample grounds for moral criticism. He is far from claiming that most people are morally good, to the contrary (Timmermann 2007a, xvi). Although human beings are at any time capable of morality (Timmermann 2007a, xii), we at the same time stand under the influence of inclinations—“a powerful counterweight to all the commands of duty” (G 4:405.05–06). For this reason, the paradigmatic case of a Kantian moral challenge is that duty demands one thing, inclination another, and we are aware of the tension. Usually, we end up acting on inclinations, thus failing to be good. The task of the moral philosopher is to “uphold the strictness and purity of moral principles” (Timmermann 2007b, 182). This is the characteristic way in which a Kantian philosopher criticises bad actions: not by claiming insight into a moral truth hidden to others, but by pointing out that the actions at issue are based on inclination instead of autonomy.

What is more, Kant is well aware that our inclinations lead us to rationalise our moral beliefs. In his words, “there arises a natural dialectic, that is, a propensity to rationalise against those strict laws of duty and to cast doubt upon their validity, or at least upon their purity and strictness, and, where possible, to make them better suited to our wishes and inclinations” (G 4:405.13–16). So although human beings do not need moral philosophy in order to be capable of acting morally, Kant thinks that moral philosophy can help to restore the common moral standpoint in the face of inclination-based rationalisations. Its function is to “clarify, systematize, and vindicate” (Sticker 2017, 85) the thinking of ordinary moral agents and at times to counteract the influence of rationalisations by reminding human beings about the true content and strictness of their duties (Sticker 2017). This is how Kant’s approach to moral philosophy enables criticism not just of bad actions, but also of wrongheaded moral beliefs.

It is due to the above conception that Kant’s moral philosophy is not just able to criticise majority practices and beliefs, but is in fact particularly strict in its criticism. There is no such thing as non-culpable moral ignorance in Kant’s picture (Timmermann 2007a, xii). If human beings were sincere and attentive enough, in Kant’s view, they could always grasp the proper demands of duty, and at heart they would always be able to fulfil these demands. In this way, Kant refuses to let moral agents off the hook, particularly if their wrongs result from a lack of moral reflection.

The idea that certain moral beliefs are convenient human rationalisations should again be familiar to animal ethicists. There is evidence, for instance, that eating meat tends to reduce people’s readiness to judge that animals are morally considerable in their own right (Loughnan et al. 2010). As Nussbaum points out, “[animal ethics] is an area in which we will ultimately need good theories to winnow our judgments because our judgments are so flawed and shot through with self-serving inconsistency” (Nussbaum 2001, 1548). Hence, considering how strongly our inclinations favour dismissive moral beliefs about animals, Kant’s restorative conception of moral philosophy should seem promising to animal ethicists, particularly to those who are critical of deeply entrenched and rarely questioned exploitation.

While Kant himself develops his taxonomy of ethical duties in the Doctrine of Virtue in the context of a restorative project, the resulting system can serve other purposes as well. Most importantly, from the perspective of a contemporary field of ‘applied’ ethics, Kant’s system offers its own ethical vocabulary. Its concepts and distinctions can be used by ethicists to Kantian or non-Kantian ends, provided the vocabulary is at least broadly applicable to their domain of ethics. Kant’s taxonomy of ethical duties also doubles as a body of systematic arguments for first-order normative claims—arguments which are often novel and interesting. Consider, for example, Kant’s argument that lying is “the greatest violation of a human being’s duty to himself” (MM 6:429.04), which suggests that lying wrongs the liar, not just the lie’s recipient. The argument gains intricacy the more we consider its relation to Kant’s views on lying more broadly, and to his views on morality in general, at the level we would now call metaethical. Such cross-relations give a contemporary ethicist yet more to work with. The same is true, to some extent, for any of Kant’s arguments for a first-order normative claim. In this way, Kant’s moral philosophy, and the Doctrine of Virtue in particular, has great creative potential for philosophers reflecting on our moral relations to others and ourselves.

The main upshot here is that a Kantian framework, if we can get it to include animals in moral concern, will be geared towards a different purpose than standard approaches to animal ethics. Rather than trying to convince the denier of animal moral status or of morality itself, Kantianism for Animals will address itself primarily to those who already share an awareness of duties towards animals and will aim to account for those duties on the basis of an autonomously imposed moral law. Doing so helps to strengthen our commitment to the moral law and to reinforce our trust in ordinary moral feelings of obligation towards animals. It can do so even in opposition to majority practices and beliefs, if they are inclination-driven rationalisations, as many dismissive moral views about animals plausibly are. The resulting system will also double as a body of concepts, distinctions, and arguments that can help contemporary ethicists reflect on our moral relations to others and ourselves.

To sum up this chapter, I have given an account of how Kant conceives of moral concern, placing an emphasis on the ethical duties Kant takes us to have towards each other. Kantian moral concern is a dynamic and complex affair. Duties of different types must be considered in context and brought together by moral judgement. This includes perfect and imperfect duties, duties towards self and others, duties of right and virtue, and duties of love and respect. As far as our treatment of other human beings is concerned, we ought to opt for the right balance between practical love and respect, thus benefitting others without encroaching upon their lives too much. Kant’s taxonomy of duties is a helpful and interesting conceptual grid because it forces us to look at our duties from different angles. Attached to it is a philosophical account of moral normativity based on the idea of an autonomously imposed moral law. With the help of this account, we can trace our ordinary moral outlook back to its rational basis, vindicating and refining our ordinary feelings of moral obligation. Whether as a philosophical starting point or as a philosophical interlocutor, Kant’s ethical system is an interesting resource to work with. However, Kant gives a radically different treatment to animals than to human beings. In the next chapter, let me explain how animals fit into Kant’s ethical system as it stands and why his ‘indirect duty approach’ to animal ethics is unsatisfactory.