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1 • The Contemporary Context: Kant’s Judgement on Frederick’s Enlightened Absolutism

My overall thesis is that Kant’s political philosophy should be read as an attempt to mediate between theory and practice, between norms and the status quo. This is true for international relations, but also works on the domestic level. There is a systematic parallel between Kant’s treatment of Frederick’s rule and the way in which Kant deals with the idea of a federation of states, for instance. Both are seen as transitory, but indispensable stages in the historical development towards the ideal of reason. Kant interprets his own state, Prussia, as non-republican, but capable and in the process of evolving towards republicanism. Kant’s judgement is ultimately complex. Frederick’s rule is considered an improvement, but also deficient. Kant has a short-lived love-affair with enlightened absolutism in the 1780s. After the French Revolution, he is more explicit in arguing that it is only a provisional, transitory, pre-republican phase in the evolution towards republicanism. Nevertheless, enlightened absolutism is an important historical event Kant personally witnesses, which shows him that the politics of reform do work. Revolutions are not necessary for the gradual ‘evolution of a constitution governed by natural right’ (VII, 87, 13–14) – though they might sometimes help as a ‘natural event’ outside the legal sphere. Kant describes how republican principles can be realized in history. Rulers have a duty to transform despotic regimes into states conforming to the ‘spirit’ of republicanism by way of reforms without a violent and detrimental revolution. Kant’s philosophy of history develops a teleological design, an idea (Idee) or sketch (Entwurf) that needs empirical evidence. Frederick’s Prussia provides this evidence.

Kant’s judgement on Frederick the Great and the system of enlightened absolutism has not yet been addressed in a satisfactory manner.¹ Many Kant interpreters have neglected this topic and focused on the French Revolution instead. Consequently, mistaken assessments abound; the reforms in Prussia and the Habsburg Empire are often simply ignored.² My analysis proceeds on three levels. The first examines Frederick’s theoretical writings, the second is concerned with his royal policies, while the third shifts to Kant’s views on enlightened absolutism as exemplified in Frederick’s theory and practice. The task is not made any easier since Kant was reluctant to criticize Frederick’s rule directly. Finding what Kant wrote about Frederick is easy; finding what he thought about the monarch is difficult. One of Kant’s statements suggests the problem: ‘Although I am absolutely convinced of many things that I shall never have the courage to say, I shall never say anything I do not believe’ (letter to Mendelssohn, 8 April 1766; XII, 69, 23–6). Kant was willing to censor his own thoughts, while at the same time following the moral demands of honesty. After or during his conflict with Wöllner and the cabinet order of King Frederick William II, Kant set up the maxim that all that we say must be believed to be true, but that there is no duty to say all one’s convictions publicly, or to tell the whole truth (XII, 380, 30–2; cf. VI, 433, 18–23). Kant’s explicit statements on Frederick are positive, if not flattering. We are interested, however, in what Kant thought but did not dare to write. Allusions and hints in published writings are a source of insight into his privately held judgement. Another method is to sift through Kant’s unpublished material, his letters, notes and preliminary writings, where he is under less constraint. The third method is to find deeper meanings in passages that seem innocuous in a casual reading.

Kant’s self-restraint and self-censorship when writing consist of four elements.³ Some texts are – apparently deliberately – obscure, confusing the censor with unclear or ambiguous statements. Kant often plays hide-and-seek with his readers. For instance, we do not know whether the term ‘worthy gentleman’ in one particular passage (VIII, 277, 24) refers to the conservative Edmund Burke or not.⁴ Sometimes Kant uses old concepts and gives them a different meaning, while claiming that nothing has changed substantially. His transformation of the sentence salus publica suprema civitatis lex est (the public welfare is the supreme law of the state) is a case in point.⁵ Kant actually replaces the term salus publica with the concept ‘justice’ (justitia), while claiming that the doctrine ‘retains its value and authority undiminished’ (VIII, 298, 14–15). Kant does not apply elements of the political theory that might appear revolutionary or radical to the contemporary political situation in Prussia. Finally, Kant does not always specify the methodological status of his writings. Sometimes the reader gets the impression that something just tolerated provisionally is part of the a priori doctrine.

The first section of this chapter focuses on Frederick’s domestic policy, Kant’s Enlightenment essay, and the limits of Frederick’s domestic policy. Kant’s judgement on Frederick seems positive or ambivalent, but upon close analysis is ultimately negative. For Kant, Frederick’s humanitarian reforms are based on self-interest, not on morality. What is left is the Frederick of military aggression and of wars, the Frederick who constantly violates international law and right. In the 1790s, Kant of is particularly critical of Frederick. Kant, belonging to the second generation of Enlightenment writers, is no longer satisfied with a reformed system of absolutism. The ultimate goal is the ‘perfect’ republic ‘governed by principles of justice’, which is identical with representative democracy. Kant devalues reformed enlightened absolutism to a mere transitory phase in this process towards republicanism. In Kant’s philosophy of history, selfish Enlightenment rulers like Frederick unwittingly promote noble ends. Progress towards the republican ideal is seen as the work of a ‘cunning nature’.

Domestic policy I: enlightened absolutism

Kant’s principles of politics are the background to his judgement on Frederick’s enlightened absolutism. They are rooted in the principle of right or justice (Recht). Right is defined as ‘the sum total of those conditions within which the will of one person can be reconciled with the Will of another in accordance with a universal law of freedom’ (VI, 230, 24–6). Republicanism is the form of government (Regierungsart) where this reconciliation is best achieved; where the subjects are citizens who are entitled to legislate, and they enjoy legal freedom and equality. Executive and legislative are separated. Only the republican constitution corresponds with the idea of justice.

During his lifetime, Kant encountered several different political systems, including the traditional absolutism of Frederick William I (1713–40) and of Frederick William II (1786–97). Furthermore, he encountered enlightened absolutism, revolutionary France, the parliamentary government of Great Britain, the aristocratic oligarchies of German imperial cities and the evolving democracy of the young American republic. Though Kant occasionally refers to the United States (XV, 630, refl. 1444; VI, 351), France serves as the republican model after 1789. In his later writings, Kant’s comments on England’s parliamentary system are consistently negative. He claims that Great Britain’s allegedly ‘moderate’ political constitution amounts to an absolute monarchy (VI, 319–20; XIX, 606, refl. 8077; VII, 90). There are no explicit statements about traditional absolutism or the aristocratic oligarchies of the Reichsstädte. Thus, Kant’s alternative can be put as follows: enlightened absolutism with reforms ‘from above’ as the means of change, or a revolution to create a republic such as France?

Kant’s short-lived love-affair with enlightened absolutism in the 1780s ends after the French Revolution; then he is more explicit in arguing that it is only a provisional, pre-republican phase in the evolution towards republicanism.⁶ Kant is attracted by enlightened absolutism, in particular by Frederick’s rule. First, Kant rejects a right to revolution: the people have no right to coerce a despot; Kant is convinced that ‘even what is apparently the most intolerable abuse of supreme power’ (VI, 320, 22) takes place in some sort of – albeit deficient – juridical condition, which is still better than the state of nature. I shall not investigate in detail Kant’s reasons for denying a right of revolution;⁷ he believed in a different mode of political change.

Kant’s main argument against revolution is highly legalistic, but there is a second argument. In the essay ‘An answer to the question: “What is Enlightenment?”’, Kant contends:

A revolution may well put an end to autocratic despotism and to rapacious or power-seeking oppression, but it will never produce a true reform in ways of thinking. Instead, new prejudices, like the ones they replaced, will serve as a leash to control the great unthinking mass. (VIII, 36, 28–33)

Revolutions are seen as counter-productive. They do not lead to what Kant considered fundamental, ‘true reform in ways of thinking (Denkungsart)’. The Denkungsart that Kant wants to promote is characterized by the maxims ‘to think for oneself’, ‘to think in the position of everyone else’, and ‘always to think in accord with oneself’ (V, 294, 16–17). A political revolution may just replace one set of prejudices with another one. What is needed is a change in our way of thinking. Prejudiced, narrow-minded and inconsistent Denkungsart must be overcome, and Kant was convinced that Frederick’s Prussia provided the framework for this ‘true reform’.

Thirdly, Kant rejects direct democracy as despotic, ‘because it establishes an executive power through which all the citizens may make decisions about (and indeed against) the individual without his consent’ (VIII, 352, 20–2). Kant holds that the supreme legislative, but not the executive power should be in the hands of the united will of the people. Kant advocates representative democracy, where the application of the law is separated from the law-making process. In pre-republican conditions, explicit consent is not necessary and may even be harmful.

Kant has more to say on the roles of citizens and sovereigns. This is his fourth reason. He holds that individual subjects have the right to express their views publicly, if they think that they or the commonwealth have been wronged by the sovereign (VIII, 304, 9–12). As we shall see later, Kant thought that this ‘freedom of the pen’ (VIII, 304, 15) was guaranteed in Prussia. Finally, rulers have a juridical duty to transform despotic regimes into states conforming to the ‘spirit’ of republicanism by way of reforms without a violent and detrimental revolution (VII, 90–1). Kant’s application theory needs empirical evidence to demonstrate that it works, and Frederick’s Prussia provides this evidence. The first two of the above reasons explain why Kant was diverted from alternatives to enlightened absolutism; the last three explain why he was attracted by it.

Enlightened absolutism can be defined as ‘a regime in which the ruler possesses or assumes the right to enact legislation without consent, exercises the right extensively and, in doing so, is influenced by “the Enlightenment” as the term is used by historians of the eighteenth century’.⁸ There is consensus among scholars that Frederick the Great of Prussia is one of the ‘classic’ representatives of enlightened absolutism.⁹ There has been disagreement over the motivation of the rulers of enlightened absolutism (sometimes referred to as ‘enlightened despotism’). Many scholars have claimed that the ideas of the Enlightenment are incompatible with despotic or authoritarian forms of government, that the very concept of an enlightened despot is a contradiction in terms.¹⁰ I will argue that Kant offers a convincing response to these questions.

In Antimachiavell (1740), Frederick defends monarchy as the best form of government, provided that the king does his duty.¹¹ In the Essai sur les formes de gouvernement et sur les devoirs des souverains (1777), Frederick adopts a modified doctrine of a social contract. Because of this contract, the ruler is ‘le premier serviteur de l’état’. This characterization appears at least six times in Frederick’s writings.¹² Frederick is careful to call the ruler the first servant of the state rather than of the people. He rejects popular sovereignty as a dangerous concept, and defends absolute monarchy as the best form of government with pragmatic arguments.

Kant approves of Frederick’s self-characterization at least twice in his writings. Perpetual Peace (1795) cites Frederick’s rule as an example of the autocratic form of sovereignty ‘which accords with the spirit of a representative system’, and thus with the republican form of government, or Regierungsart. ‘Thus Frederick II at least said that he was merely the highest servant of the state’ (VIII, 352, 32–3). Kant is ironic, giving us the impression with the phrase ‘at least (wenigstens)’ that enlightened absolutism is the lesser of two evils. He adds irony by emphasizing the word ‘said’, suggesting that practice did not always correspond to theory, and that words were bold but deeds were few. Kant’s second reference to Frederick’s famous saying is a footnote in the Anthropology (VII, 332).

There is another interesting parallel between Frederick’s and Kant’s writings. In his 1777 essay, Frederick writes about the ruler that s/he ‘is only the first servant of the state, obliged to act with wisdom and disinterestedness, as if at any moment he had to render an account of his administration to his citizens’ (my emphasis).¹³ Frederick emphasizes a ruler’s moral responsibility towards their citizens, though it must be said that he never intended to be really accountable. However, Kant apparently saw this as a step in the right direction. Reflecting upon the function of the idea of the social contract in non-republican states, he claims a similar moral responsibility. The idea of the social contract ‘can oblige every legislator to frame his laws in such a way that they could have been produced by the united will of a whole nation, and to regard each subject, in so far as he can claim citizenship, as if he had consented within the general will’ (VIII, 297, 16–20). In both cases, the ruler or legislator is supposed to engage in a kind of mental or intellectual experiment, asking if one’s intended law or action is compatible with the will of the majority of the citizens. Perhaps my interpretation is too far-fetched: however, I believe that Kant was eager to look for any elements in Prussian politics (theory and practice) that would point away from plain despotism.

Given that the sovereign wishes to reform the state, autocracy is more effective than aristocracy or democracy in approaching republicanism (VIII, 353, 5–8; VI, 340). At the same time, Kant points out that autocracy is very dangerous for the people, ‘for it is extremely conducive to despotism’ (VI, 339, 14–15). He also wants to make sure that people are not satisfied with a form of sovereignty that is, by the standards of his own theory, only provisional. Thus he implicitly ridicules Frederick’s claim that absolute rule is the best form if the ruler is competent. Criticizing a similar theory by the Swiss-born moderate royalist Mallet du Pan, Kant argues that to reason that ‘whatever is best administered is best’ amounts to a tautology (VIII, 353, 28; VI, 339, 19–25).

Domestic policy II: the separation of powers and the politics of reform

With one feature of republicanism, that of the separation of powers (VI, 228–9), Frederick agreed in principle and mostly followed in practice. Kant’s hope for progress is, above all, a hope for legal progress through continuing improvement of political constitutions. Consequently, Kant seeks evidence for this thesis in his own age, and finds it in the reforms of enlightened absolutism.

In 1722, Frederick William I established the general directory (Generaldirektorium), a central institution for domestic, military and financial affairs. Some years later he added a cabinet ministry for foreign affairs. The third major institution was the Privy Council for legal matters. Jurisdiction and administration were not separated, and jurisdiction gradually lost some of its functions to administration. Legal reforms in Prussia can be divided into two phases.¹⁴ The first occurs between 1746 and 1756, when Gross-kanzler Samuel von Cocceji reorganized the legal system by trying to unify rather than change it. The content of the law remained the same. Reform was part of the general effort of the absolutist state to centralize the government. The king put the Codex Fridericianus Marchicus, the new code of criminal procedure, into effect between 1747 and 1749, which the Corpus Juris Fridericianum remained unfinished. Cocceji’s death and the outbreak of the Seven Years War ended the first ‘wave’ of reforms. After 1780, Johann Heinrich Carmer reformed the legal system; Carl Gottlieb Suarez, the main author of the Allgemeines Landrecht für die Preussischen Staaten (1794), and Ernst Ferdinand Klein assisted him. Until that time, the court for farmers was the Patrimonialgericht, which their masters controlled. Legal equality was non-existent. A fair trial was impossible if defendant and judge were one and the same person or institution. In 1781, another new criminal code, called Corpus Juris Fridericianum, was adopted. The main task of the second wave of reform was to codify a new statute-book. In 1784 Carmer finished the first parts of Entwurf eines allgemeinen Gesetzbuchs für die Preußischen Staaten (1787). It was published and presented to the public to be evaluated and criticized. The second part of the draft appeared in 1785. Frederick commented, ‘laws must be short and should not be too extensive’, and, in a lecture before the Mittwochsgesellschaft in June 1788, Suarez referred to this comment as one of Frederick’s more famous marginalia.¹⁵

After Frederick had died in 1786, the impetus of reform was lost. The Allgemeines Gesetzbuch für die preussischen Staaten (1791) was scheduled to become effective on 1 June 1792. However, Frederick William II, frightened by events in revolutionary France, suspended it. The Allgemeines Landrecht was finally put into effect because of events in foreign policy.¹⁶ In 1793, Prussia acquired additional Polish territories in the second partition, and unifying the country with a common legislation seemed a prudent choice. The general law of the country reaffirmed the traditional structure of society. Attempts to improve the predicament of farmers were not successful. Serfdom was only partly abolished. Nevertheless, the Allgemeines Landrecht was influential, and it kept most of the constitutional elements that its authors, representatives of the Berlin Enlightenment, had suggested. Frederick had initiated the legal reforms that culminated in the Allgemeines Landrecht after his death.

In theory, Frederick proclaimed legal equality, one of Kant’s central demands (VIII, 291–4; VIII, 350–1; VI, 314). Before the court, prince and farmer should be equal.¹⁷ This theory was almost completely put into practice, giving Prussia a fair legal system. Civil rights, religious and intellectual freedom, the right to own property and land were protected.¹⁸ In the Political Testaments of 1752 and 1768, Frederick stated that he was not willing to interfere in legal procedures. Instead, he wanted to promote the independence of the courts, ‘for in the courts the laws should speak and the ruler should be silent’.¹⁹ Again Frederick agreed with the political doctrine of Kant and many other Enlightenment philosophers. The rule of law characterized the ideal political system. Kant claimed that the republican constitution was ‘the only lasting political constitution in which the law is the sole ruler (selbstherrschend), independent of all particular persons’ (VI, 341, 1–2; cf. VI, 355, 20–1). There was one major difference between Frederick and Kant. The former justified the independence of the courts with pragmatic reasons. No ruler could deal with all details of a legal dispute. Above all, the ruler should invest his time in other branches of the government.²⁰ Frederick was apparently thinking about trade, the economy, the military and foreign affairs. He dedicated almost two-thirds of his testaments to his army and foreign relations. In contrast to Frederick, Kant wanted to derive the independence of the courts from the principle of the separation of powers (VI, 338–9). This principle was in turn derived from the idea of the original contract. Frederick was reluctant to accept this theory of the social contract. He did not include mutual recognition of certain rights in principle, but allowed exceptions that were justified pragmatically. Frederick claimed it was necessary to intervene in institutions ‘from time to time’, because institutions inevitably degenerate.²¹ Frederick was convinced that this was the case when he interfered in the Miller-Arnold dispute. A miller named Johannes Arnold from Züllichau had appealed to the king after having been rejected by courts of the first and second level of jurisdiction. Frederick intervened four times in the legal procedure. This interference provoked Kant’s protest, if only in an unpublished reflection (XIX, 607, 21–4; see below). The example illustrates the deep-rooted incompatibility between Kant’s legal doctrine, which refers to principles of right, and Frederick’s flexible policy, which relies on ‘maxims of prudence’. Still, Kant could argue that Prussia developed gradually towards a state of affairs which he described in his writings. Significantly, he downplayed Frederick’s violation of the separation of powers, comparing it to a ‘heavy hailstorm’ that does not diminish beautiful weather (XIX, 607, 24). Kant’s and Frederick’s theories of the state even converge in the promotion of welfare institutions for the poor and sick. Frederick planned to pay pensions to the widows of his officers (after all, there were plenty).²² Although Kant is frequently seen as an advocate of the minimal state, this interpretation is mistaken. Kant believed that the state has a juridical duty – albeit not a strict one – to care for the needs of its citizens (VI, 326).²³

Kant was of course aware of the legal reforms going on in Prussia. He corresponded with Ernst Ferdinand Klein, the co-author of the Allgemeines Landrecht and a member of the Mittwochsgesellschaft.²⁴ Klein asked whether limitations on legal freedom had to be abolished immediately. In his opinion, the people should be set free gradually (letter to Kant, 22 December 1789; XI, 118). Prussian laws were filled with arbitrary restrictions. Klein held that they could be excused, but not fully justified. Klein’s ‘excuse’ was pragmatic. Enlightenment was (the result of) a gradual process, and abrupt changes would be ineffective against the force of popular opinion. Like Carl Gottlieb Suarez, Klein argued for the independence of jurisdiction. In 1787, Klein claimed in an essay on the legal system of Austria that it was ‘depressing’ for a people if it realized that ‘life, freedom and property’ depend on the whim (Laune) of a single person.²⁵

Kant’s concept of reform was not very different from Klein’s. Principles of natural right should not be realized ‘at once and by violent measures’ (VIII, 372, 23–4), otherwise, the moral politician might become a ‘despotic moralist’ acting ‘contrary to political prudence by adopting or recommending premature measures’ (VIII, 373, 9–10). Kant probably had the reforms of Joseph II of Austria in mind. Reforms should avoid both anarchy (a relapse into the state of nature) and stagnation. Unjust laws and deficient political structures should be kept rather than abolished if there was nothing to replace them. What is significant here is that Kant assigns a crucial role to political prudence or expediency and takes experience and human weakness into account. However, these pragmatic considerations are always subordinate to morality, natural right and the idea of practical reason. Experience, for instance, helps us to learn how to apply theory ‘in better and more universal ways after we have assimilated it into our principles’ (VIII, 289, 2–4). This distinguishes Kant’s theory from an exclusively pragmatic or empirical approach.

Kant’s political philosophy reflects upon how ‘pure’ principles of right can be put into practice. It advocates ‘reform from above’, where the state ‘will reform itself from time to time, pursuing evolution instead of revolution and will thus make continuous progress’ (VII, 93, 8–9). These are the roots of Kant’s love affair with enlightened absolutism. Frederick seemed to fulfil Kant’s demands, pursuing reform while at the same time avoiding the threats of revolution and anarchy.

Domestic policy III: the process and progress of Enlightenment

For Kant, successful domestic reform was the result of a creative interplay between an enlightened ruler like Frederick and the public. Citizens established a public sphere or civil society among each other, discussed ideas and proposed reforms, hoping that the ruler respected their ‘freedom of the pen’. Kant wrote his essay ‘What is Enlightenment?’ (1784) when the Prussian reforms of the eighteenth century reached their climax. Frederick’s reputation had suffered in 1779 when he intervened in the Miller-Arnold dispute. Beginning with his order of 1780, his prestige improved again and reached a peak in 1784. After Frederick’s death in August 1786, and particularly after the outbreak of the French Revolution, reforms in Prussia virtually came to a standstill. We should understand these developments and the ‘climate’ of reform and the discussions among citizens to understand Kant’s enthusiasm in the 1784 essay.²⁶

Perhaps Kant was also influenced by developments in the Habsburg monarchy. Joseph II ascended to the throne in 1780, after the death of his mother Maria Theresa. He went much further than Frederick, attempting to reduce the privileges of the nobility and the clergy, abolishing serfdom (Leibeigenschaft) from 1781 onwards, establishing equality before the law and religious toleration.²⁷ Joseph actively pursued fundamental changes in the social structure and the constitution. He claimed in August 1789 that the decision of the French National Assembly to abolish feudalism and to create a bill of rights was plagiarism of his own policies; and he was not too far away from the truth.²⁸ This assessment was echoed by August Ludwig von Schlözer, who wrote that the positive accomplishments of the French Revolution had partly (and peacefully) been achieved by enlightened absolutism, and that the rest would be realized in a ‘revolution from above’.²⁹ Many Enlightenment authors seem to have agreed. Klopstock, Lessing, Wieland, Herder and Pestalozzi were initially enthusiastic about the prospect of Joseph’s rule (although many changed their minds after 1785).³⁰ Joseph’s brother, Leopold II, was probably the most revolutionary of these three rulers (Frederick II, Joseph II and Leopold II). In 1783, he advocated constitutional monarchy in the preparatory work for a draft of a constitution for Tuscany. Influenced by the American Revolution, he argued that ‘a limited monarchy in which the executive power is freely placed in the hands of an individual and the legislative power in those of a nation’s representatives, is of all governments the best’.³¹ Leopold’s political ideas indeed anticipated classical nineteenth-century liberalism, advocating popular sovereignty, the rule of law, the separation of powers, inalienable natural rights and even the right of revolution.³²

Of course, Kant had no access to these unpublished letters and written statements. On the other hand, he was well informed about developments and events in European countries, partly through newspapers, partly through his practice of encouraging lengthy lunchtime discussions over the years. Kant avoided discussing his own critical philosophy and encouraged general topics, with current political affairs and religious matters predominating.³³ Communicating with friends over lunch was part of the Enlightenment culture of eighteenth-century Königsberg. Kant calls the ‘freedom of the pen … the only safeguard of the rights of the people’ (VIII, 304, 15–20). As the people have no right of revolution, they should have the non-coercive right to criticize publicly what seems to be an injustice on the part of the ruler. The process of Enlightenment depends largely on the freedom ‘to make public use of one’s reason in all matters’. The public can only enlighten itself if it is allowed to communicate freely (VIII, 36–7; VIII, 144–7).

Did Frederick grant freedom of the press? Kant’s essay gives us the impression that he did. Kant describes the essence of his rule as ‘Argue as much as you like and about whatever you like, but obey!’ (VIII, 37, 3–4). Kant’s assessment is too flattering. Frederick granted freedom of the press, but only to some extent;³⁴ censorship was never completely abolished under his rule. There was a division of labour between the king and his censors, and this arrangement contributed to the impression (and later the legend) that there was freedom of the press under Frederick. Whereas the censors had to follow strict regulations, Frederick conveyed the impression of being tolerant and permissive by allowing exceptions. He allowed free publication in the fields of philosophy and religion, but never permitted criticism of the state. Crantz, the editor of the Berlinische Correspondenz, was imprisoned for criticizing Prussian censorship and Joseph II. Johann Erich Biester and Friedrich Gedike, the editors of the Berlinische Monatsschrift, were rebuked for furtively insulting the aristocracy. Editors thereafter practised self-censorship and refrained from discussing political issues. In addition, the relative backwardness of Prussian society helped Frederick: ‘If he did not suppress political opposition it was because none existed.’³⁵ A political doctrine effectively challenging his own was not formulated during his rule. Despite Kant’s contention, intellectuals were not allowed to argue ‘about whatever’ they liked (VIII, 37, 4). Frederick, who had a personal contempt for religion, did not object to criticism of religion. As Gotthold Ephraim Lessing put it in 1769, the ‘Berlinese freedom of thought and writing’ was nothing more than ‘the freedom to make as much fun as you like of religion’. Other countries allowed criticism in the field of politics. Lessing concluded that, compared with Austria, France and Denmark, Prussia was ‘to this day the most slavish in Europe’.³⁶ Kant’s essay on Enlightenment almost exclusively deals with religious affairs. At the end of the essay, he ‘excuses’ himself for that. After all, he argues, rulers usually do not interfere in matters of the arts and the sciences. What about politics? Kant does not give a direct answer. Instead, he refers to Frederick’s willingness to allow ‘his subjects to make public use of their own reason’ in terms of legislation. They may ‘put before the public their thoughts on better ways of drawing up laws, even if this entails forthright criticism of the current legislation’ (VIII, 41, 17–21). Kant alluded to the public discussion on the Allgemeines Landrecht, which began in spring 1784 (he finished his article in September). Lawyers, legal philosophers, and writers in general were encouraged to present their views (this ‘freedom of the pen’ was later reaffirmed in Allgemeines Landrecht § 156, II, 20). Sixty-two proposals on how to change the legal document were received. Some criticized the acceptance of serfdom and absolutism. The Berlinische Monatsschrift published several anonymous articles on the new constitution.³⁷ The discussion was public in a limited sense. Most of the population did not participate and remained unaffected. Frederick’s intellectuals only communicated with each other. A broader public discourse might have challenged the status quo.

Frederick was apparently convinced that philosophical disputes about abstract topics did not harm the state, even if their implications were political. Frederick’s successors, however, became more cautious and realized the possible impact of philosophical discourses on society and politics. It is revealing that Kant consistently tried to convince his readers, including of course his censors, that the process of Enlightenment was, as he put it in 1798, nothing more than ‘innocuous political gossip’ and by no means a ‘menace to the state’ (VII, 86, 28–9). In 1798, however, the authorities no longer accepted this view, but Frederick was convinced by this argument and Kant expressed his gratitude on several occasions.

Frederick has the reputation of being a champion of religious tolerance. The frequently quoted classical statements are that ‘[r]eligions must all be tolerated’ and ‘[a]ll religions are equal and good, if only those people who profess them are honest people; and if Turks and heathens came and wanted to populate the country, we would build them mosques and churches’.³⁸ Frederick’s religious tolerance stems from his indifference (or hostility) towards religion in general and towards sects and churches in particular. In the Political Testaments, he expressed his contempt for all religions as based on ‘incomprehensible systems of fables’, on ‘prejudices and errors’.³⁹ Frederick rarely referred to the Enlightenment argument that the sovereign has no rightful power over the thinking and conscience of the citizens. The main argument was again pragmatic and utilitarian: religious tolerance was in the interest of the state. Frederick did not want to lose tax-paying subjects who would leave the country if they were persecuted for their religious beliefs. Above all, Frederick feared that they might emigrate to the territories of his enemies, particularly the Habsburgs, support their economy and add to their military strength. Hence prudence dictated that the king was ‘neutral between Rome and Geneva’ and that religious feelings were respected.⁴⁰ Frederick did not care what his subjects were thinking about religious topics. What really mattered was that they ‘populated the country’ and behaved ‘as good citizens and patriots’.⁴¹

Kant supported Frederick’s separation of state and churches. The sole interest of the state in matters of religion should be in the teaching of religious instructors. The government may oblige them to provide for ‘useful citizens, good soldiers, and in general loyal subjects’ (VII, 60). All other religious affairs were none of its business. Like Frederick, Kant favoured religious tolerance, but his justification was different. Kant distinguished between a juridical and ethical commonwealth (VI, 95–6). Rooted in the principle of moral autonomy, morality and religion cannot and should not be enforced. The executive branch is entitled to enforce legality in external actions, but the citizen’s moral disposition is left alone. ‘That I should make it my maxim to act in accordance with right is a requirement laid down for me by ethics’ (VI, 231, 8–9).⁴² Again, Kant’s argument was, unlike Frederick’s, moral rather than pragmatic.

Because of Frederick’s church–state policy and religious tolerance, Kant called his age ‘the century of Frederick’. The Prussian king is the ‘liberator’ of humankind:

A prince who does not regard it as beneath him to say that he considers it his duty, in religious matters, not to prescribe anything to his people, but to allow them complete freedom … is himself enlightened. He deserves to be praised … as the man who first liberated humankind from immaturity (as far as government is concerned), and who left all human beings free to use their own reason in all matters of conscience (VIII, 40).

Frederick’s Prussia has been characterized as a state ‘owned’ by its army. Were legal freedom and Enlightenment only possible because Prussia was in a sense a military state? Many representatives of the Enlightenment answered in the negative. Johann Georg Schlosser, for instance, claimed: ‘Wherever there are standing armies, lasting freedom of the citizens is impossible.’⁴³ Particularly after the War of American Independence, German intellectuals argued in favour of a militia, with citizens willing to defend their country. Kant agreed in principle that standing armies should be abolished in favour of an army composed of ordinary citizens (see VIII, 345). However, he did not believe that standing armies necessarily undermined political freedom. Quite to the contrary, Kant held that contemporary events in Prussia contradicted this theory. For Kant, Frederick’s rule was an example of how ‘a well-disciplined and numerous army’ may ‘guarantee public security’, the precondition of the Enlightenment process (VIII, 41, 24f.). Frederick’s army was indeed numerous. The Soldatenkönig Frederick William I had built up an army of 83,000. After 1740, the Prussian army encompassed 100,000 soldiers, and in 1786 around 200,000.⁴⁴ In the Political Testament of 1752, Frederick advised his successor to choose military studies as the main subject and to be ready for war all the time. Since Prussia was surrounded by powerful neighbours, its military should be number one in the state.⁴⁵

Kant was caught in a dilemma. On the one hand, he repeatedly deplored the fact that rulers wasted money on building up armies instead of financing education and the sciences. ‘[T]he state … (as Büsching laments) has no money left over to pay qualified teachers who will carry out their duties with enthusiasm, since it needs it all for war’ (VII, 93, 1–3; VIII, 28, 15–18; XXVII, 470). Financial support for education, particularly for schools in the countryside, remained indeed marginal. Frederick had no interest in educating the masses. He thought that ‘a little reading and writing’ was sufficient, and it prevented young people in the countryside from becoming ambitious.⁴⁶

On the other hand, Kant admitted that, at least in Prussia, this deplorable situation had positive results. In his later historical writings, Kant attempted to explain the paradox with the concept of a heterogeneity of ends and the work of nature or providence in history. Frederick, who built an army to conquer provinces and wage war, unintentionally made it possible for philosophers to write essays on republicanism and perpetual peace, and to criticize this very policy. Kant was struck by the paradox that ‘a lesser degree of civil freedom gives intellectual freedom enough room to expand to its fullest extent’ (VIII, 41, 31–2), whereas a high degree of civil freedom seems to block intellectual freedom. Prussia was not a land of complete political or civil freedom, but the intellectuals enjoyed a considerable amount of ‘freedom of the pen’. This freedom rested on Frederick’s firm grasp on domestic policy, which emphasized a strong army. Kant did not idealize Prussia as a land of political freedom. Rather he saw it as an oppressive country that simply could afford, because it was so oppressive, to grant freedom in certain, limited areas. The British traveller John Moore commented on Prussia: ‘A government, supported by an army of 180,000 men, may safely disregard the criticisms of a few speculative politicians, and the pen of the satirist.’⁴⁷

Kant distinguished between ‘public’ and ‘private’ uses of reason. People who are entrusted with civil posts or offices must obey as employees of the government. As persons of learning (Gelehrte) and members of ‘cosmopolitan society’, they are entitled to use their reason freely, ‘addressing the entire reading public’ (VIII, 37). Here Kant actually followed a distinction drawn by Karl Abraham Freiherr von Zedlitz, head of the geistliches Departement (responsible for church matters and education) and subsequently minister of justice. In two cases, Zedlitz had ruled that the clergy should enjoy freedom of speech in articles designed for the reading public, but should take responsibility as representatives of their respective churches.⁴⁸ Kant was familiar with these cases; the second involved Johann Heinrich Schulz in 1783. Kant probably alluded to these events when he wrote that Frederick allowed ‘ecclesiastical dignitaries … in their capacity as scholars’ to express their opinions ‘freely and publicly’ (VIII, 40, 36–41, 2). Kant’s distinction between public and private use of reason is not only normative but also at the same time descriptive. As a consequence, it is quite difficult to distinguish between normative elements (which belong to the a priori theory), descriptive ones (based on recent experience), and those that serve as a link and mediate between the two.

In part, Kant’s essay on the Enlightenment was a document of the ‘gentlemen’s agreement’ between the autocratic ruler and the Enlightenment philosophers. Frederick allowed intellectual freedom, which he considered, together with Kant, as ‘innocuous’. The philosophers, for their part, accepted the command that their writings should be abstract general reflections. Some – Kant was apparently one of them – might have hoped they would eventually undermine the political system itself.⁴⁹

Domestic policy IV: limits of Frederick’s domestic policy

One goal of Frederick’s policy was to preserve the Prussian aristocracy; middle-class people should have no opportunity to acquire the property of the nobility.⁵⁰ The aristocracy was an indispensable reservoir for army officers that Frederick needed for his military campaigns. In this respect, Frederick was deeply conservative and wanted to preserve the old social order, again for pragmatic reasons. Like many other Enlightenment philosophers, Kant criticized ‘hereditary prerogatives or privileges of rank’ (VIII, 292, 24–5) as violating the principle of legal equality. In Frederick’s Prussia, social mobility was only partially permitted. The king attempted to preserve the hereditary aristocracy, while Kant wanted to replace it with ‘a nobility of office’ based on merit (VIII, 350).

Nevertheless, Frederick’s Prussia was not a ‘closed’ society. Some social mobility was possible within and between the corporate structures of the Old Regime.⁵¹ Kant himself is a good example of a poor student from ‘the plebeian depths’ who obtained a respected faculty position at Königsberg University.⁵² Others, with the help of a university degree and patronage, became clergy or bureaucrats. Pietism set the foundation for the modern concept of professionalism and, by the 1770s, the arguments for talent over birth had prevailed. Kant supported this development in his essay on ‘Theory and Practice’ (1793), advocating a political system that provided the citizens with the opportunity ‘to reach any degree of rank […] through one’s talent, one’s industry and one’s good fortune’ (VIII, 292, 21–3).⁵³ Yet this was a development Frederick hardly supported, and it was rather an indirect result of the ‘freedom of the pen’ that the king was willing to grant. Again, Frederick’s social policy was conservative and reasserted the dominance of the aristocracy.⁵⁴

Kant argued that enlightened absolutism’s concept of the end of the state was mistaken. It lent itself to despotism, as the ruler tended to deprive citizens of their rights in order to make them happy: ‘The sovereign wants to make the people happy as he thinks best, and thus becomes a despot’ (VIII, 302, 10–11; cf. 305–6). According to Kant, the proper hierarchy is just the other way round: above all, the sovereign has to secure the rights of the citizens, who promote their own happiness the way they think fit. The patriotic government is based on juridical freedom, whereas the paternal government is despotic and founded on the principle of happiness, with the subjects being treated as ‘immature children’ (VIII, 290–1).⁵⁵

From Kant’s perspective, another weakness of enlightened absolutism was the dependence of the political system upon one single person – the king – whose opinion was decisive. The king might grant or deny freedom of the press, depending on his personal preferences. There was almost no ‘constitutional restraint’ nor any system of ‘checks and balances’; the rights of the people were not guaranteed by a written constitution. This became clear in the notorious Miller-Arnold dispute. Kant commented not only on Frederick’s reforms, but also on the famous event that triggered their second phase. The miller Johannes Arnold was rejected by courts of the first and second level of jurisdiction, then appealed to the king (see above). Frederick launched a public relations campaign, intervening four times in the legal procedure, insulted the judges involved (‘Shut up, you scum’) and put them in jail, notably without court trials. Frederick’s PR campaign was successful. Commentators compared him with King Solomon, but later it turned out that Arnold’s protest was unfounded. As a result, Frederick resembled Don Quixote tilting at windmills rather than the wise Jewish king. Apparently he wanted to be seen as a fighter for the weak and oppressed, but in this case he fought on the wrong side. As Arnold’s complaint was completely unfounded, the judgement in the case was reversed after Frederick’s death.⁵⁶

Ignoring the king’s propaganda, Kant criticized Frederick’s conduct with formal legal arguments. Frederick violated one of the key elements of the ‘spirit’ of republicanism, the separation of powers. The supreme power arbitrarily interfered with the activities of the courts. Kant wanted to see the episode as an exception to the rule (XIX, 607, 21–4). However, it suggests that Frederick’s autocracy was deficient, since it left room for arbitrary decisions. In Kant’s legal philosophy, a representative democracy is the ideal that accords with the spirit and letter of republicanism. An autocracy with the sovereign governing in a republican manner is merely a transitory stage. In Perpetual Peace, Kant gives us the impression that the ‘spirit’ of republicanism would do; in the Contest of Faculties, published three years later (1798), he is more outspoken. Only the republican constitution corresponds with the idea of justice, and as long as it has not been realized, it is ‘in the meantime … the duty of monarchs to govern in a republican … manner, even though they may rule autocratically’ (VII, 91, 12–14). The term vorläufig (for the time being) suggests that autocracy in a republican manner, including enlightened absolutism, is a mere transitory stage. The goal is the ‘pure’ and ‘true’ republic. This republic is identical with representative, constitutional democracy, where a people is ‘literally asked for its consent’, and those who obey the law also legislate (VII, 90–1; VI, 340–1; XXIII, 342, 27–9; around 1797). Using Pogge’s terminology, we can say that the state of enlightened absolutism (partly) realizes the consistency principle, namely that ‘rational persons ought to coexist under a system of constraints ensuring mutually consistent domains of external freedom’. However, only a republic carries out the consistency principle and the principle of universality. This system of constraints ‘ought to limit everyone’s external freedom equally – the constraints should be general and universal’.⁵⁷ Kant’s historical example of a people ‘literally asked for its consent’, stated explicitly in an unpublished note, is the French Directory, which ruled from October 1795 to November 1799. Kant contends that the French republic was superior to the British system. The Directory had to go to the council – which represented the people – to gain permission to go to war (XIX, 606, refl. 8077). Perhaps Kant’s contention is historically inaccurate; what matters, however, is Kant’s legal principle, not his own historical example where he might have applied this principle inappropriately. In an autocracy with republican forms, there is nobody to ask for permission to go to war.

Kant’s reflection leads us to our last topic of analysis: foreign policy. Frederick did not care about the spirit or letter of republicanism in foreign policy decisions. There was only one person who had a say in whether or not the country would go to war. For that reason Kant’s defence of enlightened absolutism could only be limited. The control of foreign policy decisions by the people’s representatives called for a representative democracy.

Foreign policy

The eighteenth-century European state system was characterized above all by the ‘primacy of foreign policy’ (Ranke), numerous conflicts between the major powers, and a frequently ruthless scrambling for territories.⁵⁸ Frederick was no exception (in spite of his name which means ‘rich in peace’); historians argue whether Frederick deserves the epithet ‘Great’. Friedrich Nietzsche suggested ‘the great thief’ as alternative title. Representatives of the European Enlightenment often appreciated his domestic policy, particularly the steps taken immediately after he ascended to the throne. The Marquis d’Argenson, French foreign minister from 1744 to 1747, was a representative example. His memoirs of 13 July 1740 stated: ‘Le roi de Prusse s’attire toujours les plus grands éloges.’⁵⁹ This statement reflected the enthusiasm of intellectuals when Frederick abolished judicial torture, restricted press censorship and recognized religious toleration at the beginning of his reign. The king fostered a cultural renaissance that included revitalizing the Berlin Academy of Sciences with Maupertus and Euler.

Sympathetic observers became confused when Frederick started to conduct his foreign policy. His invasion of the Austrian province of Silesia in December 1740 violated eighteenth-century international law standards. The French philosophes were particularly upset that Frederick broke treaties with France twice (in June 1742 and December 1745). In August 1756, Frederick invaded neutral Saxony without a declaration of war and, in addition, he humiliated the royal family, relatives of the French Bourbons. Frederick’s conduct earned him the title ‘roi conquérant’.⁶⁰ Finally, he probably inaugurated the First Partition of Poland (1772). Frederick’s performance was obnoxious by almost any moral or legal standard, whether of our own or of Kant’s century; as historian George Peabody Gooch has correctly remarked, ‘the rape of Silesia ranks with the partition of Poland among the sensational crimes of modern history’.⁶¹ There are many possible reasons why Frederick conducted an aggressive foreign policy. He himself admitted that he wanted to read about his deeds in newspapers and history books; he wanted to profit from ‘favourable conditions’; he desired more coherence for his scattered territories. It has also been argued that Brandenburg faced a deep structural crisis, and that foreign policy was aimed at mastering and overcoming it.⁶²

Philosophers reacted in different ways. Frederick’s friend Voltaire was bewildered, but finally accepted the ambiguity of the ‘roi philosophe’ on the one hand and the ‘philosophe guerrier’ on the other. Rousseau was more straightforward in his assessment: ‘Il pense en philosophe et se conduit en roi. La gloire, l’intérêt, voilà son Dieu, sa loi!’⁶³ For Rousseau, there was just one soul, not two, in the Prussian king: a soul that was dominated by ‘glory’ and ‘interests’, and more or less devoid of moral principles. Kant sided with Rousseau’s assessment. He was aware of the ruthless policy of contemporary princes and criticized it in his unpublished reflections. Kant complained, for instance, that the heroism of princes was mistakenly identified with their honour, and that historians preferred the military camp to the cabinet (XV, 610, 19–21, refl. 1400). Kant deplored the fact that princes did not care about justice, as long as they could expand their states (XV, 610, 19–21, refl. 1400, lines 21–3), and saw this as a form of barbarism. Kant implicitly criticized all of Frederick’s major foreign policy decisions. The capture of Silesia, the invasion of Saxony in 1756 and the First Partition of Poland violated Kant’s notion of states as moral or juridical persons. When Frederick broke his treaties with France, he undermined the notion of a contract and the possibility of lasting peace based on the principle pacta sunt servanda (VIII, 343–4). Kant’s readers could relate the second preliminary article to the partitions of Poland.⁶⁴ Poland virtually disappeared as an independent state with the third and last partition in 1795 – the year Kant published Perpetual Peace.

Kant did not criticize Frederick’s foreign policy explicitly, but he condemned the philosopher who defended the king. In writings on Cicero, Frederick, and the relationship between politics and morality, Christian Garve (1742–98) offered a utilitarian apology of ruthless power politics as performed by the ‘roi philosophe’.⁶⁵ Together with William Paley, Saint-Pierre, Hume and Beccaria, Garve can be seen as an early utilitarian ‘within a Christian framework’.⁶⁶ In the appendix of Perpetual Peace, Kant dismissed Garve’s utilitarian maxims in foreign policy as incompatible with the principle of publicity (VIII, 383–6). Frederick’s preventive war of 1756 is the only major foreign policy decision supported by Kant’s writings, though only by implication. According to the Doctrine of Rights, states have a ‘right of preventive war’ if another state ‘engages in military preparations’ or if its increase in power is ‘menacing’ (VI, 346). In 1756, Frederick had every reason to believe that this was happening in Russia, Austria and France.⁶⁷

Kant saw the implications of enlightened absolutism for foreign relations. Monarchs were always tempted to use their supreme power to wage war, thus ‘destroying the world’ (XXIII, 354, 24–8). In the first definitive article, Kant argued for the moral and pragmatic superiority of republicanism (see chapter 4 in this volume). He offered a vivid description of foreign policy decisions in a state under a non-republican constitution ‘where the subject is not a citizen’:

it is the simplest thing in the world to go to war. For the head of state is not a fellow citizen, but the owner of the state, and a war will not force him to make the slightest sacrifice so far as his banquets, hunts, pleasure palaces and court festivals are concerned. He can thus decide on war, without any significant reason, as a kind of amusement, and unconcernedly leave it to the diplomatic corps (who are always ready for such purposes) to justify the war for the sake of propriety. (VIII, 351)

In this passage, Kant also provided an accurate account of Frederick’s rule. For instance, Frederick decided to invade Silesia all by himself and presented his decision to Minister Podewils and Field Marshal Graf Schwerin in Rheinsberg on 29 October 1740. The king was convinced that the Austrian province was the best possible object ‘pour l’agrandissement le plus solide’, and had the resources ‘d’un pays riche, abondant, plein de commerce et peuplé’.⁶⁸ Podewils and Schwerin tried in vain to change the king’s mind. As Frederick remarked, ‘the orders to the troops have already been given’.⁶⁹ Frederick left the justification of the war ‘to the diplomatic corps’. Podewils produced a complicated and hardly convincing legal document in spring 1741.⁷⁰ Frederick was rather ‘unconcerned’. When Podewils tried to explain the intricate legal problems involved, Frederick replied that this was a job for the ministers and lawyers. Frederick wrote on the margin of Podewils’s legal argument the arrogant and cynical comment: ‘Bravo: the work of an excellent charlatan!’⁷¹

It might be argued that Kant’s picture of ruthless monarchs waging wars at will is one-sided and historically inaccurate. In addition, historians disagree in their evaluation of (enlightened) absolutism and its warlike tendencies. Some historians argue that above all, the king is to blame. Their interpretation is closest to Kant; they emphasize royal prestige, the desire to expand, and individual ambition – they support Toynbee’s catchphrase of war as the sport of kings.⁷² Kings such as Louis XIV and Frederick II are seen as motivated by both the more traditional ideals of gloire, réputation and heroic deeds, and by the modern concept of reason of state.⁷³ This thesis, however, is challenged by the claim that the aristocracy was responsible for eighteenth-century wars in the first place,⁷⁴ and it is sometimes argued that both the king and the aristocracy were the decisive factors. Johannes Kunisch has supported still another thesis, arguing that the very structure of hereditary monarchies increased the likelihood of wars. Empires like the Habsburg monarchy were based on the principle of dynastic legitimacy. Within the framework of mercantile theory, the persons inhabiting a certain territory were simply seen as part of that territory rather than as citizens with rights (a theory subsequently criticized by Kant as violating the principle of popular sovereignty). Any problems with succession were exploited by neighbouring states. The year 1740, when Frederick invaded the Habsburg province Silesia, is precisely such a case in point.⁷⁵ Finally, we must not forget Kenneth N. Waltz’s classic and convincing distinction between permissive and efficient causes of war. In the eighteenth century, the permissive cause of war (that which permitted war to occur) was certainly the condition of anarchy in the international political system. The efficient causes must be sought at the individual and societal or state level.⁷⁶ It seems most plausible to argue that wars were the result both of individual royal ambition and of the structure of hereditary monarchies and the international system. This implies that Kant tended to neglect the structural causes of eighteenth-century wars emphasized by Kunisch. Kant had plenty of evidence that Frederick’s Regierungsart in foreign relations was despotic rather than republican. However, he might have ignored the logical conclusion for his political theory. The two parts of the first definitive article do not fit together. In the pragmatic argument in favour of republicanism, Kant attacked enlightened absolutism as being warlike and bent on war. In the second part, where Kant distinguished between Herrschaftsform and Regierungsart, he seems to defend the same despotic system. He refused to refer to foreign relations in his appraisal of Frederick’s rule.

Kant offered a limited defence of Frederick’s military state. Apparently referring to Prussia, Kant claimed in a footnote to The Contest of Faculties (1798) that ‘a people which occupies extended territories in Europe may feel that monarchy is the only kind of constitution which can enable it to preserve its own existence between powerful neighbours’ (VII, 86, 18–22). Frederick used a similar geopolitical argument in his Political Testament of 1768. In the case of war, the territories of Cleve and Mark in the west and East Prussia would be lost immediately to the French and the Russians respectively. Of course, this was no argument for Frederick in the quarrel between republicans and monarchists. Monarchy was never questioned anyway. For Frederick, Prussia’s geopolitical predicament was another reason to teach the gospel of militarism to his successor: Prussia needed more soldiers, they should be better trained than those of its neighbours, and the Prussian king should be their commander in chief. In times of peace, the king should prepare for the next war.⁷⁷ As far as foreign policy was concerned, Frederick the king was by no means ‘acting by analogy with the laws which a people would give itself in conformity with universal principles of right’ (VII, 88, 6–7). I suppose that Kant was fully aware of this; a lot had been achieved on the domestic level, and he was patient.

There was a deep discrepancy between Frederick’s domestic and foreign policy. In domestic policy, the king seemed an enlightened, humanitarian ruler who respected the rights of his people. In foreign policy, Frederick appeared as a ruthless, immoral despot who did not hesitate to send his subjects into wars of never-ending aggression and destruction. Some historians have been puzzled by this seeming paradox. Some claim that it should be explained by Frederick’s ambiguous character. Theodor Schieder, for instance, contends that the king was torn between the humanistic ideals of the Enlightenment and Machiavellism.⁷⁸ Following Meinecke’s Die Idee der Staatsräson (1924), Schieder sees Frederick’s ‘kingdom of contradictions’ (the subtitle of his biography) as rooted in a more fundamental dichotomy of enlightened absolutism itself. This interpretation is hardly convincing. Frederick’s endorsement of religious tolerance, for instance, was based on prudential and pragmatic rather than humanistic considerations. Frederick thought it was no longer necessary to follow Machiavelli’s advice in domestic affairs. With the rise of absolutism, with the bureaucracy and a strong military in its wake, domestic affairs had been stabilized, as Kant registered with some satisfaction.

With Frederick, the emphasis shifted to foreign affairs, where a slightly modified Machiavellianism dominated. Frederick established the tradition of the ‘primacy of foreign policy’ in Germany. Ambition was only checked by prudence. Even after the conquest of Silesia, Frederick did not abandon the will to agrandissement. He secretly pondered how to acquire new territories from Saxony and Poland in his Political Testaments.⁷⁹ Frederick was particularly eager to teach his successor that he should rule on his own, instead of leaving the work to ministers. Frederick thought any ruler should control and dominate finances, ‘inner administration’, foreign policy and the army.⁸⁰ The ultimate goal was strengthening the state and increasing its power; other considerations were derivative. No ministers, let alone subjects, should ever interfere in foreign affairs. It was the sole task of the sovereign to decide about the ‘vital interests of the state’, when to wage war and with whom.⁸¹ Frederick’s rule should be seen within the wider context of militarism in European absolutist states. As historians like Skocpol, Tilly, Downing and Mann have argued, most of what these governments did was linked to the army. The growth of central state powers was closely related to international conflicts. Finally, it should be kept in mind that the ‘absolutist project arose from the need to extract taxes to fight wars without the consent of the mass of subjects’.⁸²

Kant never explicitly attacked Frederick’s foreign policy. In a footnote to the Contest of Faculties, he defined an absolute monarch as someone ‘at whose command war at once begins when he says it shall do so’ (VII, 90, 25–6). Kant’s passage is supposed to criticize the British parliamentary system, which Kant denounced as a deception; however, the same description fitted enlightened absolutism even better. Frederick waged numerous wars without asking the representatives of the people for permission. Kant’s judgement on the British system was too harsh and biased; at the same time, he overlooked, or perhaps intentionally ignored, Frederick’s enlightened absolutism.

The philosophy of history: ‘Cunning Nature’ carries the day

Kant condemned the rulers of his age from a moral point of view. The princes cared for nothing except for ‘despotic power’, and contributed ‘not one iota’ to the ‘worth of humanity’ (XXVII, 471). Rulers, violating the categorical imperative, considered their subjects as ‘tools for their own purposes’ (IX, 448, 3). For Kant, one significant example of this violation of human rights was given by the wars of the eighteenth century, where rulers used any citizen ‘to fight in their disputes and slaughter his fellows’ (VII, 89, 13–14). The passage seems to be innocuous, since Kant started it with a restrictive ‘if’. However, I suppose that his contemporaries were aware that this was the actual conduct of most princes, and not a mere possibility. In Kant’s view, nothing indicated that Frederick was an exception to this rule.

In the previous sections, I have repeatedly emphasized that Frederick’s decisions in domestic policy were not morally motivated. Historians are still puzzled by the problem of motivation. Were Enlightenment rulers including Frederick moved by principle or profit? Some argue that Frederick’s reforms were based on a sober cost–benefit analysis. Frederick’s character, they point out, was ambivalent, torn between Enlightenment humanism and the reason of the state, preferring the latter over the former in case of conflict.⁸³ Others reason that not all Enlightenment rulers were exclusively concerned with the power of their states. If this had been the case, then we would not understand why they devoted time and trouble to the state’s weaker members. As Blanning put it succinctly, not even Joseph II ‘could have hoped to transform a deaf dumb blind crippled lunatic illegitimate unmarried mother into an effective fighting unit’.⁸⁴ In many cases, historians have been quite unfair, placing Enlightenment rulers in catch-22 situations. For example, they expect monarchs to demonstrate their enlightened motivation by dismantling the old order while at the same time endorsing the Enlightenment principle of individual freedom.⁸⁵ The problem involved here is apparently not only one of historical research, but of epistemology as well, and Kant may help us a little. According to the Critique of Pure Reason, we do not know anything about the homo noumenon, or human beings’ inner motivations. All we can do is develop theories that might be highly probable. It is reasonable to argue that Frederick 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 above the king, whereas Kant claimed that in fact the will of the king was still law (Gesetz) in Prussia.⁹³ Gerhard Ritter was mistaken in his claim that Frederick would probably have agreed to the categorical imperative as a foundation of civil society. Imperatives of skill and maxims of prudence were the bases of Frederick’s Prussia. His subjects were used as mere means. Frederick did not call himself servant of the people, but of the state. The new and frightening element in Frederick’s rule was that he used himself as a means as well – he was willing to sacrifice himself on the altar of the state. Frederick exposed himself to death in battle on numerous occasions. As Kant and his contemporaries knew, Frederick in addition ‘kept a strong poison at hand, presumably so that if he were captured when he led his troops into battle he could not be forced to agree to conditions of ransom prejudicial to his country’ (VI, 423, 26–9). Kant was right that ‘mere pride’ (VI, 423, 26–9) certainly was not Frederick’s motivation. Frederick’s willingness to sacrifice even his life for the state is part of his concept of being ‘first servant’. Though Kant’s reference to Frederick in the Doctrine of Virtue is listed under ‘Casuistical Questions’, his point of view leaves no room for doubt. According to the standards of the categorical imperative, Frederick had no right to dispose of himself ‘as a mere means to an arbitrary end’, as this would mean ‘to abase humanity in one’s own person’ (VII, 423, 1–6).

We are now in a better position to understand Kant’s enthusiasm about the outbreak of the French Revolution. For Kant, the principles of the revolutionaries were, at least during the first, constitutional phase from 1789 to 1792, diametrically opposed to Frederick’s pragmatism. As early as 1790, Kant praised their ‘organization’ of the ‘entire body politic’ according to the principle of morality: ‘For in such a whole each member should certainly be not merely a means, but at the same time also an end’ (V, 375, note). This ‘organization’ was missing in Frederick’s Prussia. For that reason Kant sided with the revolutionaries, defended the principles he thought they cherished and supported the revolution even at a time when it became obvious that the revolutionaries had betrayed their own principles.

In his last letter to Frederick in 1778, Voltaire praised his former friend enthusiastically: ‘If only Frederick the Great could be Frederick the immortal!’⁹⁴ Voltaire accepted that Frederick was not only a follower of the Enlightenment but also eager to continue and even intensify traditional power politics. Ultimately, Kant’s evaluation was more negative. In Kant’s deterministic philosophy of history, Frederick’s humanitarian reforms were based on self-interest, not on morality. In contrast to nationalist intellectuals in Germany after the Wars of Liberation (1813–15), Kant detested the Frederick of military aggression and of wars, the Frederick who repeatedly violated international law and right. Voltaire’s moderate approach and ‘appeasement’ was typical of an earlier generation of Enlightenment writers. Kant, belonging to the last generation, was no longer satisfied with a reformed system of absolutism.⁹⁵ The ultimate goal was the ‘perfect’ republic, ‘governed by principles of justice’ (IX, 444, 33–4; XXIII, 342, 27–9), which was identical with representative democracy. Kant invalidated reformed, enlightened absolutism to a mere transitory phase in this process towards republicanism. Thus Kant did not compromise with the status quo, as has been claimed by various authors for the last 200 years. It is also unfair and misleading to argue that Kant was ‘a radical in principle’, but deeply ‘conservative in practice’, and that in the 1790s Kant’s ‘views on social and political change look back to the 1770s’.⁹⁶

Frederick taught Kant many things: positively, the importance of legal order backed up by powerful force. Negatively, he taught Kant how not to conduct relations with other states, and how state aggression leads to continuous insecurity. I have argued before that Kant offers a convincing answer to two questions raised by historians of enlightened absolutism. Critical philosophy suggests that we can never resolve the disagreement over the motivation of the rulers. If we assume a deterministic perspective, then we should be fully aware of this. That is, we have to be conscious of the fact that it is merely a perspective. As for the problem of whether the ideas of the Enlightenment are compatible with despotic or authoritarian forms of government, Kant’s answer is a clear no. On the other hand, Kant’s evolutionary philosophy of history rejects the idea of utter condemnation. Perhaps we have to qualify the statement about Enlightenment being incompatible with despotism. There are many diverging definitions of the Enlightenment. It was not a monolithic cultural force, and almost any prominent representative had a different understanding of this movement. Only a minority saw popular sovereignty as an ultimate normative principle, and many, especially German Aufklärer, accepted absolute authority on pragmatic grounds or in principle.⁹⁷ Thus it is better to say that for Kant, a major representative of the Enlightenment movement, enlightened absolutism was in principle incompatible with his understanding of enlightened political ideals, but acceptable for the time being.