was moved by utilitarian as well as principled reasons simultaneously, that there was a mixture of motivations that is difficult to assess.
If we turn to Kant’s philosophy of history, it is evident that his perspective is distinct from his agnosticism in epistemology. He presupposes methodological determinism, claiming knowledge about human motivation and arguing that it is ultimately based on self-interest (see chapter 3). However, how can we expect any kind of progress in history if human beings in general, and rulers in particular, are ruthless and selfish, or seem to be so? Is there any reason for hope if history ‘is made up of folly and childish vanity, and often of childish malice and destructiveness’ (VIII, 18, 2–3)? Kant’s philosophy of history was an attempt to answer these questions. He argued that the philosopher might discover ‘a purpose in nature’ behind the ‘senseless course of human events’ (VIII, 18, 8–9). Kant’s speculation can be interpreted as a reflective, teleological judgement. In spite of the wickedness of human beings, something good might evolve out of their actions, even if this end were not their intention. This progress towards the better was guaranteed by ‘the great artist Nature herself’ (VIII, 360, 13).86 This ‘cunning of Nature’ was seen at work in Frederick’s Prussia. Kant, referring to the reforms in Prussia, Austria and elsewhere, wrote that the ‘mutual relationships between states are already so sophisticated (künstlich) that none of them can neglect its internal culture without losing power and influence in relation to the others’ (VIII, 27, 29–31). Foreign policy became the incentive and stimulus of domestic reforms. The rulers, following their enlightened self-interest, promoted the ‘internal culture’ of their countries to keep their status as a major power. The ‘ambitious schemes of the various states’ actually furthered the ‘purpose of Nature’. If states wanted to remain competitive in the international system, then they would also promote ‘civil freedom’. Kant explained as follows:
civil freedom can no longer be so easily infringed without disadvantage to all trades and industries, and especially to commerce, in the event of which the state’s power in its external relations will also decline. But this freedom is gradually increasing. If the citizen is deterred from seeking his personal welfare in any way he chooses which is consistent with the freedom of others, the vitality of business in general and hence also the strength of the whole are held in check. For this reason, restrictions placed upon personal activities are increasingly relaxed, and general freedom of religion is granted. And thus … enlightenment gradually arises. (VIII, 27–8)
Kant claimed that civil freedom, which had reluctantly been granted by rulers, would eventually expand to intellectual freedom, particularly in religious matters. Kant certainly had Frederick’s policy in mind, and probably also that of Joseph II of Austria. In 1781, three years before Kant published the essay, Joseph granted religious tolerance that even extended to the Jews. The Toleration Patent guaranteed a high degree of denominational equality, though non-Catholics were limited to unobtrusive worship. Joseph’s attitude was not only more liberal than his mother’s (Maria Theresia), but also completely utilitarian. Following his idol Frederick, he defined tolerance as a policy of the state ‘to employ any persons, without distinction of religion, in purely temporal matters, allow them to own property, practice trades, be citizens if they were qualified and if this would be of advantage to the State and its industry’.87 If Lutherans, Calvinists, Greek Orthodox or Jews worked hard and practised trade instead of being prosecuted, then they would help build a competitive Austrian monarchy. Joseph II was primarily concerned about the advantage of the state, and civil rights had to take a back seat. Kant was aware of this probably selfish motivation. Joseph and Frederick were enlightened in the sense that ‘they realized what was to their own advantage’. Their self-centred ‘schemes of expansion’ promoted something they did not intend: civil and intellectual freedom (VIII, 28, 9–11). A similar line of thought can be found in the essay ‘Conjectures on the beginning of human history’ (1786), where Kant succinctly claimed that ‘the risk of war is the only factor which keeps despotism in check, because a state must now have wealth before it can be powerful, and there can be no wealth-producing activity without freedom’ (VIII, 120, 6–9). Despots become ‘enlightened’ because they want to use their subjects more effectively.
Historians have developed explanatory models for the spread of reforms in the countries of enlightened absolutism that support Kant’s theory.88 Most historians agree that Leopold von Ranke was right with his thesis of the ‘primacy of foreign policy’.89 Governments were eager to expand their borders and tried to counterbalance the ambition of rival governments. This required a strong standing army. The army in turn asked for a flourishing economy. As Joseph II put it in 1779, ‘only the improvement of … agriculture, industry, trade and finance’ made it possible for the state to maintain and expand the ‘military establishment’.90 Hence all princes looked ‘ever and only to the prosperity of their own countries, making that their chief concern’ (XXVII, 471). This asked for a governmental laissez-faire policy. Gradually, civil liberties were granted. Members of dissenting churches and sects were not suppressed or expelled (they might have helped any of the rivals), but invited to do something for their country. Like most eighteenth-century observers, Frederick thought that the Huguenot expulsion had had serious negative consequences for the French economy. He implicitly supported Kant’s contention that his reforms were rooted in foreign aspirations rather than concern for the rights or the well-being of the citizens. In the Essai sur les formes de gouvernement et sur les devoirs des souverains (1777), Frederick summarized the principles of his rule. He compared the state to a clockwork mechanism with all parts and sections subordinated to one main goal, the survival and the expansion of the state. All subjects, and the king himself, were mere means to this ultimate end. Within this context, reforms were necessary to support the financing of the army which executed foreign policy.91
Conclusion
Kant became increasingly sceptical about Frederick, and this changing attitude was reflected in the way he addressed Frederick. Since 1745, writers and commoners in Prussia, France and England accepted the epithet ‘magnus’. In 1795, Kant discarded the title ‘the Great’ and referred to ‘Frederick II’ (VIII, 352, 32; cf. XXVII, 2, 1, 647; VII, 332, 31). Kant never commented explicitly on the ‘philosopher of Sans-Souci’. He made it clear, however, that he did not believe in Plato’s philosopher kings. Being a king and a philosopher at the same time was impossible, ‘since the possession of power inevitably corrupts the free judgement of reason’ (VIII, 369, 29–30). Kant undermined a crucial cornerstone of Frederick’s hagiography. Usually, it is assumed that this passage is nothing more than a criticism of Plato; it should, however, also be read in the context of the myth of Frederick as the ‘roi philosophe’. This myth evolved during the Seven Years War and was cherished by philosophers within the Reichsgebiet, in France and England. Despite Frederick’s military aggressions, d’Alembert, for instance, was willing to see the monarch as one of the ‘philosopher kings (monarques philosophes)’.92 Voltaire, whose support and admiration for the king was unwavering, continued to call him the ‘roi philosophe’. Kant, the king’s subject in East Prussia, finally seemed to side with Rousseau, who saw Frederick as just another one of the corrupt kings of this world. Although Kant’s philosophy is already in principle universalist, his own experience with Prussia might have pushed him towards a more cosmopolitan perspective.
We may now return to the question of why Kant preferred republican France over Frederick’s Prussia. The revolutionaries had the right goal, that is, the establishment of ‘the only intrinsically rightful and morally good constitution’ (VII, 85, 34). They were only mistaken in the means applied. Frederick and the other representatives of enlightened absolutism, on the other hand, had the wrong goals (territorial expansion), but applied nolens volens the right means (reform). Kant’s admiration for Frederick in the year 1784 is surpassed by his enthusiasm for the French Revolution (VII, 85–9). My systematic interpretation is also supported by biographical information. The theologian Johann Friedrich Abegg visited Königsberg and Kant in 1798. During one of their discussions, Abegg pointed out that the Allgemeines Landrecht was
