What Is Enlightenment?

“Laziness and cowardice are the reasons why so great a proportion of men, long after nature has released them from alien guidance […], nonetheless gladly remain in lifelong immaturity, and why it is so easy for others to establish themselves as their guardians. It is so easy to be immature. If I have a book to serve as my understanding, a pastor to serve as my conscience, a physician to determine my diet for me, and so on, I need not exert myself at all. I need not think, if only I can pay: others will readily undertake the irksome work for me.”

Kant continues to challenge his readers in the second paragraph. The reader will surely not want to identify as lazy or cowardly, so Kant hopes they will reflect on the ways that they rely on others do their thinking or make their decisions for them. His tone almost conveys contempt for those who do so.

“Having first made their domestic livestock dumb, and having carefully made sure that these docile creatures will not take a single step without the go-cart to which they are harnessed, these guardians then show them the danger that threatens them, should they attempt to walk alone. Now this danger is not actually so great, for after falling a few times they would in the end certainly learn to walk; but an example of this kind makes men timid and usually frightens them out of all further attempts.”

Kant uses the metaphor of unenlightened people as livestock to further raise the stakes of his challenge. People resemble livestock and thus lose their humanity to the degree that they allow others to lead them. Kant shows that he is still confident that people can think for themselves (“this danger is not actually so great […]”) but believes that it is simply lack of resolve or courage that prevents them from doing so.

“Rules and formulas, those mechanical aids to the rational use, or rather misuse, of his natural gifts, are the shackles of a permanent immaturity. Whoever threw them off would still make only an uncertain leap over the smallest ditch, since he is unaccustomed to this kind of free movement.”

Kant introduces another metaphor to illustrate the stakes of the essay. Even relying on rules to determine how to act or what to believe is like being in shackles—that is, like being imprisoned or enslaved. The “free movement” of enlightenment, Kant suggests, will be difficult for individuals at first; thinking for oneself requires practice.

“[T]hat the public should enlighten itself is more likely; indeed, if it is only allowed freedom, enlightenment is almost inevitable.”

Kant transitions from discussing the enlightenment of select individuals to the collective enlightenment of the public. While the former, as he has indicated, is likely to be very difficult, the latter requires only freedom. In turning to the public, then, Kant turns also to his new theme of freedom—specifically, Freedom of the Pen, which is most relevant to the public sphere.

“Perhaps a revolution can overthrow autocratic despotism and profiteering or power-grabbing oppression, but it can never truly reform a manner of thinking; instead, new prejudices, just like the old ones they replace, will serve as a leash for the great unthinking mass.”

Kant rejects the notion that there could be a revolutionary overthrow in the realm of ideas, implying that it is harder to overcome old prejudices and patterns of thought than it is material oppression. The process of enlightening the public, he says, will necessarily be incremental and slow.

“Nothing is required for this enlightenment […] except freedom; and the freedom in question is the least harmful of all, namely, the freedom to use reason publicly in all matters. But on all sides I hear: ‘Do not argue!’ The officer says, ‘Do not argue, drill!’ The taxman says, ‘Do not argue, pay!’ The pastor says, ‘Do not argue, believe!’ (Only one ruler in the world says, ‘Argue as much as you want and about what you want, but obey!’).”

After emphasizing the difficulty of enlightenment again, Kant tries to put the reader’s mind at ease by minimizing what is required for enlightenment: only freedom (and, as he soon explains, a very specific form of freedom at that). He also vividly introduces the trio of examples (officer, citizen, and clergyman) that he returns to in the coming pages by using anaphora—the repetition of an opening word or phrase (in this case, “Do not argue,” which underscores the pervasive pressure to remain unenlightened). Kant ends with an indirect parenthetical reference to Frederick the Great as the only ruler who, while insisting on obedience, nevertheless allows for the free public discussion of ideas.

“[W]ould a society of pastors […] not be justified in binding itself by oath to a certain unalterable symbol in order to secure a constant guardianship over each of its members and through them over the people, and this for all time: I say that this is wholly impossible. Such a contract, whose intention is to preclude forever all further enlightenment of the human race, is absolutely null and void.”

Kant opens this paragraph with hypophora: a question that he intends to answer directly. The question concerns the authority of religious leaders to restrict discussion and forbid the questioning of religious doctrine not only for themselves but for generations to come. Kant barely lets the question be asked before ruling it out entirely as illegitimate, figuratively using legal jargon to say such a “contract” would automatically be “null and void.”

“The criterion of everything that can be agreed upon as a law by a people lies in this question: Can a people impose such a law on itself?”

Kant expresses the criterion for the legitimacy of any law in the form of a hypothetical question, and that question again refers to people’s capacity for rational self-government. Regardless of whether a law comes from a monarch or a democratically elected legislature, the key question is whether it is a law that an enlightened public would impose on itself. If not, reason cannot endorse it.

“A man may put off enlightenment with regard to what he ought to know, though only for a short time and for his own person; but to renounce it for himself, or, even more, for subsequent generations, is to violate and trample man’s divine rights underfoot.”

Kant places limits on people’s capacity to restrict the pursuit of knowledge and enlightenment: They certainly cannot restrict it for others, and they can only do so for themselves for a very limited time. He invokes the notion of “divine rights” here, which introduces a paradox: the divine right of kings was seen at the time as opposed to the Enlightenment’s celebration of reason, but Kant ties divine right not to monarchy but to the human capacity for reason itself. (The idea that humans’ rights derive ultimately from God is an idea that features in much Enlightenment discourse—e.g., the work of John Locke.)

“If it is now asked, ‘Do we presently live in an enlightened age?’ the answer is, ‘No, but we live in an age of enlightenment.’ As matters now stand, a great deal is still lacking in order for men as a whole to be, or even to put themselves into a position to be able without external guidance to apply understanding confidently to religious issues. But we do have clear indications that the way is now being opened for men to proceed freely in this direction and that the obstacles to general enlightenment […] are gradually diminishing. In this regard, this age is the age of enlightenment, the century of Frederick.”

Kant again uses hypophora, this time to introduce a subtle distinction. He does not think society has achieved enlightenment yet and understands that there are obstacles to enlightenment, but he remains optimistic. In particular, he takes this opportunity to pay tribute to Frederick the Great, whose tolerant attitude toward religious discourse is a major source of Kant’s optimism.

“I have focused on religious matters in setting out my main point concerning enlightenment, i.e., man’s emergence from self-imposed immaturity, first because our rulers have no interest in assuming the role of their subjects’ guardians with respect to the arts and sciences, and secondly because that form of immaturity is both the most pernicious and disgraceful of all.”

Kant looks back briefly on the argument so far, restating the definition of enlightenment and acknowledging that he has paid more attention to the religious example and to The Separation of Church and State than to any other subject. The reason for this is that it is in this sphere that the public use of reason needs the most protection from overreaching authorities, and the stakes are also highest here. If spiritual freedom is the highest form of enlightenment, then being unenlightened in this area is the most harmful immaturity of all.

“[T]he manner of thinking of a head of state who favors religious enlightenment goes even further, for he realizes that there is no danger to his legislation in allowing his subjects to use reason publicly and to set before the world their thoughts concerning better formulations of his laws, even if this involves frank criticism of legislation currently in effect. We have before us a shining example, with respect to which no monarch surpasses the one whom we honor.”

Kant again makes the nature of the public use of reason explicit; even criticizing particular laws does not undermine those laws. He also pays his most pronounced tribute to Frederick the Great, almost suggesting that the essay itself was written as a tribute to him or to “honor” him.

“Here as elsewhere, when things are considered in broad perspective, a strange, unexpected pattern in human affairs reveals itself, one in which almost everything is paradoxical. A greater degree of civil freedom seems advantageous to a people’s spiritual freedom; yet the former established impassable boundaries for the latter; conversely, a lesser degree of civil freedom provides enough room for all fully to expand their abilities.”

Kant introduces one of the key points of the essay by articulating a paradox: True freedom (spiritual freedom or freedom of the mind) might seem to require civil or political freedom, but this is actually not the case. Restrictions on freedom in the broader sense (restrictions on the private use of reason, for instance) actually pave the way for enlightenment as long as they accompany the free public use of reason—as Frederick might say, people can argue as much as they like provided they obey.