Guido Mattiussi and Joseph Maréchal – Two Jesuits in Contrast Over Kant at the Origins of Modernism – Part Two (2/3)
What Did Kant Aim to Do?
Kant believed that in his time, the moment had come for reason to bring order to itself, freed from vain pretensions or naïve credulity, specious illusions, unreasonable doubts, entanglement with fantasies, logical indiscipline, and subjection to superstitions and fanaticism. Reason had to be capable of taking inventory of its contents, principles, operations, and laws, measuring its strengths and resources, clarifying its purpose, and determining its scope and limits regarding the senses, experience, history, will, and external reality.
For Kant, to step beyond the limits of reason is illusion, folly, madness, irrationality, and immorality. To transcend them? He transcends them through the supreme idea of reason—the idea of a God, the first and supreme being, the ultimate end, the highest good, a personal, provident, and omnipotent creator and judge. Yet reason itself is neither surpassed nor created by this God, who remains immanent to reason, which grasps Him as an idea while surpassing itself.
However, for Kant, the claim to give real existence to this supreme being—though not impossible—cannot be demonstrated, constituting a natural illusion of reason. Such a claim entangles reason in antinomies and sophistic, irresolvable dialectical arguments. Reason needs this ultimate foundation of all things, yet at the same time, it lacks it—thus opening what Kant calls the "abyss of reason." [1] From this, we see how Kant’s rationalistic optimism is counterbalanced by an equally tragic irrationalism, reminiscent of Luther’s drama and anticipating Hegel’s dialectical reason.
In any case, for Kant, reason appears as a self-contained whole, founded upon itself, an end in itself, a law unto itself, capable of satisfying itself with the forces that it naturally possesses. Certainly, things in themselves exist. Reason encounters them through the senses. External nature exists. Others exist, as do social relationships. Religion exists. God exists. I exist with my body. Yet all these realities are nonetheless controlled, sanctioned, cataloged, recognized, and validated by reason.
A science that Kant deemed urgent to systematize and establish was metaphysics. In this, he did not share Hume’s empiricist skepticism. Instead, with his "Copernican revolution," he embraced the foundation of metaphysics initiated by Descartes, intensifying its idealistic aspect on one hand, while on the other, upholding, along with pre-Cartesian metaphysics, the evident existence of external things. The transcendental is no longer being itself but the thinking subject.
Kant believed that, in his time, the moment had arrived for a reason to bring order to itself, freed from vain pretensions or naïve credulity, specious illusions, unreasonable doubts, entanglement with fantasies, logical indiscipline, and subjugation to superstitions and fanaticism. Reason, in his view, should be capable of taking inventory of its contents, principles, operations, and laws, of measuring its strengths and resources, of clarifying its purpose, and of determining its scope and boundaries about the senses, experience, its history, the will, and external reality.
For Kant, stepping beyond the limits of reason is an illusion, folly, madness, irrationality, and even immorality. To transcend these limits? He does so through reason’s supreme idea—the idea of a God, the first and supreme being, the ultimate end, the highest good, a creator, personal, provident, rewarding, and omnipotent. However, reason is neither surpassed nor created by this God, who is immanent to reason itself, which grasps Him as an idea in its self-transcendence.
Nevertheless, for Kant, the claim to confer reality upon this supreme being—though not impossible yet incapable of demonstration—constitutes a natural illusion of reason, ensnaring it in antinomies and dialectical, sophisticated, and irresolvable arguments. Reason requires this ultimate support for all things, yet at the same time, it lacks it. Thus, what Kant calls the “abyss of reason” opens up. This shows how Kant’s rationalist optimism is counterbalanced by an equally tragic irrationalism, reminiscent of Luther’s drama and foreshadowing Hegel’s dialectical reason.
In any case, to Kant, reason appears as a self-contained whole, grounded in itself, an end unto itself, a rule unto itself, capable of satisfying itself with the forces it possesses by its nature. Certainly, things in themselves exist. Reason contacts them through the senses. External nature exists. Others exist, as do social relations. Religion exists. God exists. I exist, along with my body. Yet all these realities, nevertheless, are controlled, sanctioned, cataloged, recognized, and validated by reason.
One of the sciences that Kant deems urgent to systematize and establish is metaphysics. In this, he does not share Hume’s empiricist skepticism. Instead, with his “Copernican revolution,” he embraces Descartes’ foundation of metaphysics, accentuating its idealistic aspect on one hand while, on the other, affirming—alongside pre-Cartesian metaphysics—the evident existence of external things. The transcendent is no longer being (ens) but rather the thinking subject.
Kant was trained in Wolffian metaphysics [2], which, following Descartes’ approach, did not begin with the observation of things to derive the notion of being but rather from self-consciousness and the consciousness of things. Moreover, Wolff’s position on the object of metaphysics is unclear. He presents his views in two different treatises: one in German, the German Metaphysics, and one in Latin, the Ontology, where he presents the object of metaphysics in two distinct ways [3].
In German Metaphysics, he does not establish being (ens) as the object of metaphysics—a term that in German could be rendered as Seiende, Wesen, or Dasein. Instead, he uses the term Ding or Sache, meaning “thing,” corresponding to the Latin res, from which derives reality, translated into German as Wirklichkeit.
Now, the “thing” (res) is not the same as “being” (ens), but rather one of the transcendentals—the one that refers to being insofar as it is essence.Ens, however, denotes not only essence but also existence, which is the act of essence.
In contrast, in his Ontology, written in Latin, Wolff uses the term ens to designate the object of metaphysics. Yet for him, this is not being as existing in the act of being, much less being as the act of being, but rather possible being—within the soul—which can be actualized and become real outside of the soul. He does not, therefore, deny the existence of external reality. However, like Descartes, he believes that it cannot be derived from sensory experience but must be deduced from self-consciousness.
From this, we can understand how such a metaphysics could give rise to idealism rather than realism. Indeed, it is clear that the possible belongs to the realm of the ideal rather than the real [4]. And if the first object of thought is the possible, then the real loses the primacy it holds in realism and becomes a derivative of the possible: the idea takes precedence over reality. Rightly, then, in opposition to idealism, the Pope has reminded us of the primacy of reality over the idea[5].
Like Descartes, Wolff inverts and falsifies the process of human knowledge. We begin by knowing things that exist in actuality, and from there, we derive the notion of their possibility. We do not first know the possible (the ideal) and then subsequently add the actual (the real); rather, we grasp the actual and only later recognize that it is the realization of the possible. It is God the Creator, not man, who knows the idea of things a priori and, if He wills, chooses which to realize through creation. But we encounter them as already created and come to know their possibility only through knowing them.
Kant, for his part, believes in the possibility of certain, apodictic, truthful, necessary, immutable, and universal scientific knowledge, which he calls “a priori knowledge,” meaning knowledge that arises from what comes before and is more fundamental—from what is at the beginning. However, following Wolff and Descartes, he assumes that what is primary in value or reality must also be the starting point and original object of knowledge. In truth, however, we reach the highest values and even the existence of God only at the conclusion of an inductive reasoning process that begins with the experience of material things, immediately perceived by the senses. As Kant himself puts it, this means proceeding a posteriori—from what comes later in the hierarchy of values, as material things do in relation to spiritual ones.
On the other hand, Kant rejects what he calls “dogmatism,” that is, making un-demonstrated metaphysical assertions. Influenced by Hume’s skepticism—despite his intent to overcome it—Kant thereby aims to challenge not only Catholic metaphysics but also that of Wolff.
He in fact recounts that he was awakened by Hume from his "dogmatic slumber." He is referring to Wolff’s metaphysics, in which he was trained. Hume urged Kant to recognize the necessity, in science, of taking empirical data into account, warning against venturing into claims that are neither grounded in experience nor verifiable through it. Without this anchoring in experience, Hume cautioned, driven by the desire to go beyond it, we drift among clouds and chimeras, believing ourselves to be attaining eternal and absolute truths.
But Kant observes against Hume – and in this, he remains tied to Wolff – that in philosophy, metaphysics, ethics, and theology, we do not need to go beyond experience, because we already, a priori, with our reason, thanks to the Cartesian ego cogito, are already beyond experience from the very beginning of our thinking and judging. According to Kant, reason knows itself in its purity independently, based on self-consciousness; it already knows by itself what is in it, what it does, and what it knows, without the need to use the senses or make any experience of things outside of it. For Kant, as for Hume, experience is necessary for the constitution of experimental physics, but it is by no means required for the foundation of metaphysics, ethics, religion, and theology.
Kant, therefore – and here he opposes Hume – does not renounce what he calls "pure reason," that is, he does not renounce a priori, universal, necessary, and apodictic knowledge. He does not accept Hume's epistemology, according to which, in knowing, reason is always connected with sensible experience; it never operates on its own, and if it does, it detaches itself from reality.
For Hume, as for William of Ockham, the multiplicity of individuals is not one because all individuals share the same specific essence, and thus a real universal, but simply because they are designated by a single name. Thus, for example, for Ockham, there is no such thing as "man," but there are "men." What we call human nature is not something real shared by individuals; it is not a universal, but simply the word by which we designate the group of men, each of whom is different from the other, having nothing in common with the other except the word "man."
Kant, therefore, realizes that Hume is incapable of true knowledge, which is the science of the universal; yet, even Kant is close to nominalism without fully embracing it, because for him, the intellect does not grasp a real universal, but only a universal concept. The essence of things in themselves remains unknown. However, Kant admits the universality of the reflective knowledge of reason, in the Cartesian style; and this, according to him, is true metaphysics. Hume, on the other hand, incapable of reaching universality, remains stuck like Ockham in the individual, for him, there is no incontrovertible and definitive knowledge, but our knowledge always remains limited to opinion and belief. It is always falsifiable and needs to be corrected once a new experience reveals its inconsistency, and it cannot be shared by all, because there will always be someone for whom our thesis seems doubtful or false.
Why did St. Pius X accuse the Modernists of pride?
The reason is found in the fact that the Holy Pontiff attacks in the Modernists a theory of knowledge that places the ego rather than reality as the object of knowledge. Naturally, with this accusation, the Pope does not intend to judge individuals in the internal forum, which is reserved for divine judgment; thus, it is obvious that he does not mean to condemn every single person but the errors themselves.
What is, in fact, pride? It is the will to excel and to order everything according to one's ego, considered absolute, based on the concept of the ego as self-sufficient and as the foundation of all. Now, where does the "Ich denke" (I think) of Kant, derived from the Cartesian cogito, lead if not to this egocentric and idolatrous vision of the ego?
The Pope’s fundamental accusation against the Modernists can be reduced to this grave reproach, which also serves as a paternal call to repentance and conversion: to abandon that principle, which is, after all, the principle of what the Cartesians call "modern philosophy", which is, in reality, merely a refined revival of the ancient subjectivism of Protagoras; to return to that faith they have abandoned, to return to that ecclesial communion they have interrupted, to return to placing the gifts they have received at the service of God and not of themselves, mindful of the divine judgment.
A sign of pride is also that "mania for novelty," which the Pope accuses the Modernists of. The proud person, to emerge above all, to be noticed, to give themselves importance, to arouse attention and admiration, to create universal and enduring fame, to receive eternal praise and recognition from all, to appear as a genius and a guide for humanity, behaves and presents themselves as an unprecedented luminary, a radical revolutionary of knowledge, who finally brings to future times the light of absolute and definitive certainty and truth—the true knowledge to a humanity that has until then lived in darkness, doubt, or uncertainty. Jesus Christ, in front of such luminaries, becomes at best a pale precursor or a clumsy bungler.
The encyclical implies that in pride, the will replaces the intellect. Indeed, the principle of humility and obedience is the intellect, which surrenders to evidence and demonstration, conforms to the reality of things as they are, and is guided by what things tell it, following the path they indicate until it arrives at the discovery of God, whose word it listens to and whose law it accepts.
With the intellect, through reason and the application of the principle of causality (for ea quae facta sunt, i.e., a posteriori), we rise from the knowledge of things to the knowledge of God (transcende et teipsum, as Augustine would say), recognizing ourselves as His creatures. Thus, we elevate our thoughts to Him, but in doing so, by discovering the greatness of God and our smallness, we lower ourselves before Him. In contrast, the proud person, who confuses knowing with being, believes that by rising to God, they become God themselves. Since God precedes the world, they believe that their a priori knowledge of God is the condition for the possibility of knowledge of the world.
In truth, in healthy and humble transcendence, we do not transcend ourselves in the sense of denying our limits or pretending to overcome them with our strength or by the pretense of increasing our being. We do not transcend by exalting or elevating ourselves or surpassing our limits, but rather in the sense that our gaze is raised toward the heights, toward Him, toward the Most High, toward God, who, in His infinitude, is beyond every limit.
The intellect is a power of internalization and representation of the external reality. With the act of knowing, what is outside of us, what transcends us, the transcendent becomes in some way, that is, immaterially and spiritually, immanent within us.
This is not the immanence condemned by the encyclical but the idea that God is immanent in our spirit by His very essence and not simply insofar as Our intellect represents him. Again, this is the idealistic confusion of thinking with being, the confusion of being with being thought.
It is not the stone that is in the mind, says Aristotle, but the image of the stone. Here, the temptation of pride may arise: since we have the faculty to know God, we might be tempted to believe that we are God, thus confusing thinking with being. This is the temptation of idealism and Kant. It is the pride that Pascendi speaks of.
The will, on the other hand, is the power we have to act upon reality. Since pride pushes us to consider ourselves the molders and creators of reality and authors of our ego (the causa sui), it drives us to replace the function of the intellect, which is to receive, conform, subject, represent, imitate, and reproduce, with that of the will, which is to order, transform, command, and possess.
The proud person, then, conceives knowledge not as an act of the intellect but as an act of the will. Truth, for them, is not the effect of knowing, but of praxis. Acting is not the application of prior knowledge but the fruit of action. Knowledge does not reflect, does not mirror, but changes and transforms. It confuses the activity, the dynamism, and the intention of the intellect with the dynamism, the movement, the orientation, the inclination, and the tension of the will.
Pride motivates Kant’s philosophy. It is not based on the humble, faithful acceptance and recognition of things as they are, on a realistic foundation; rather, it is based on the absolutization of the ego suggested by the Cartesian cogito.
Kant disguises his refusal to transcend the phenomena to elevate himself to metaphysical and theological knowledge as humility. He seeks to provide a foundation for metaphysics and theology that are exhausted in the consciousness that reason has of itself and its activity. Metaphysics becomes anthropology and theology, precisely what Heidegger and Rahner will take up.
But in reality, this is the pride of one who refuses to humbly submit to the school of the senses to allow the intellect to rise to the level of the spirit. Instead, as if he were a pure spirit, he pretends to find the idea of God originally, a priori, and immediately in the self-consciousness of the spirit.
End of Part Two (2/3)
P. Giovanni Cavalcoli OP
Fontanellato, December 26, 2024
Source:
https://padrecavalcoli.blogspot.com/p/guido-mattiussi-e-joseph-marechal-due_29.html
Notes:
[1] Critica della ragion pura (Critique of Pure Reason), Laterza Editions, Bari 1965, p. 491.
[2] See Metafisica tedesca (German Metaphysics), Rusconi Editions, Milan 1999, pp. 61-65.
[3] For these details, see the introduction to German Metaphysics.
[4] Gilson explains all of this in L’être et l’essence, Vrin, Paris 1981, pp. 166-180.
[5] La dipendenza dell’idea dalla realtà nell’Evangelii gaudium di papa Francesco (The dependence of the idea on reality in Evangelii Gaudium by Pope Francis), in PATH, 2014/2, pp. 287-316.