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