by Christopher Fulkerson

I have deciphered enough of Immanuel Kant's philosophy to believe that he never gave up his early interest in "Zodiacal" influences, as he called them, on the world, about which he wrote a whole book as a young man, but which various political and religious authorities discouraged, or prohibited, him from writing about.

In fact I believe that it is probable that his famous Twelve Categories are in fact the signs of the Zodiac. Kant was not interested in "traditional" ideas about these, but, as I will try to show, he wanted the traditional Zodiacal signs to be discovered as corresponding to his system of philosophy.

There is also the question of the translation of Kant's German terminology. Several of the most important terms in his later mature philosophy are invariably mistranslated to suggest that he was writing about "judgment." In fact, as I will describe, the particular terms he chose for "judgement" can in all cases be translated into English with words suggesting the human sense of sight. I am not saying Kant is "just talking about seeing," I am saying that Kant is talking about "just seeing:" literally, seeing that is "just," that is based on a system of interpretation that can have right and wrong "views," in which there is a moral component.

This makes perfect sense, since he is, I believe, not speaking quite as abstractly as most readers have believed of him. There is a dual-meaning nature to Kant's writing in the three famous critiques that are generally considered his principal masterworks: the surface meaning, which is the philosophy as it is usually understood, and there is the meaning that is basically about how, believe it or not, the stars in the sky cause manifestations of phenomena in the world. And this is the real meaning of Kant's philosophy. It is as though Kant thought the world is a huge theater, and the stars in the sky are the lighting system; or more even, a system of projection.

Certainly, the German title of Kant's third and last Critique, Kritik des Urteilschaft, is better translated "Critique of Discernment" than "Critique of the Power of Judgement." In the Preface to the second Critique, Kant admits that the subject matter of the first two critiques is so close in nature that the second critique might at first glance be thought to cover "Pure Practical Reason," whereas the first critique had been of merely "Pure Reason." I would like to suggest that the essential imagery of the critiques is that of "viewing," simply seeing, and not "judging." Therefore the three critiques should I think have titles like these:

Critique of Reflection

Critique of Visualization

Critique of Discernment

To complete the vocabulary that is usually translated to suggest "judgement," into one suggestive of the sense of vision, I suggest that "Urteil" be translated as "View" rather than "Judgement;" that the verb "zum urteilen" be translated as "to distinguish" rather than "to judge" (and perhaps sometimes simply as "to view"); and, again, that the word "Urteilscraft" be translated as "discernment," rather than the very awkward term "power of judgement," which can be felt to be pushing the envelope of meaning too far.

Very many commentators have remarked on Kant's famous line in the last paragragh of the second critique, "Two things fill the mind with ever increasing admiration and reverence, the more often and steadily one reflects on them: the starry heavens above me and the moral law within me." Kant meant the first bit, about the starry heavens, much more literally than is usually suspected. There are however hints here and there that other thinkers along the way have understood him.

There are two very broad clues at the beginning of the first critique that suggest its stellar theme.

The first of these is the motto that was added to the second edition, one might think, after it was safe to mention, having been left out of the first edition. Once the book had passed the censors and the public scrutiny,as his motto Kant quotes Fracis Bacon under the title as Baron Verulam, from a writing of his called "The Great Instauration." This is an interesting word, which seems to have been coined by Bacon, many famous usages of which the Oxford English Dictionary gives from down through the centuries. The literal meanings given suggest only restoration or erection of buildings, but the actual examples mention only the establishment of states, churches, and universities. So the buildings or states in question have very, shall we say, high-flown significance. The term sounds redolent of the word "star," and none of the examples quoted in the OED speak to refute that idea. I suggest that when he discusses "instauration," Bacon is discussing the establishment of a physical, not merely fanciful, correspondence between stellar constellations and the earth, what is better called "stellification." The science of doing this is known to have existed for millenia; there are many examples from ancient Egypt which everybody knows about; and there is now the rising science of archeoastronomy to discuss these things. If the evidence in the field is not enough, one may consult the serious recent scholars in the field, now a century old in its modern revivication, and popular or student discussions in book form have begun to appear. The scholarly consensus is accruing, and the idea of coordination between the stars and structures on earth is not considered "over the top."

Kant's Baconian motto says "Of our own person we will say nothing. But as to the subject matter with which we are concerned," which Kant cautiously does not quote, nor even hint at, "We ask that men think of it not as an opinion but as a work... Each individual equally, then, may reflect on it himself... Each may well hope from our instauration that it claims nothing infinite, and nothing beyond what is mortal; for in truth it prescribes only an end to infinite errors, and this is a legitimate end."

Bacon is discussing a "stellification," that is, a "rendering of correspondence with the stars," that each individual "may reflect on himself." There is something going on between the stars and man, and it involves some kind of "reflection" going, perhaps, both directions, from and to the people on Earth. Again, this does not involve judgement so much as it involves the act of seeing, and the act of visualization.

However, concerning Kant's philosophy, the Prussian governementof his time did not wish there to be any teaching that suggested a deviation from its ideas of orthodox religion. Zodiacal writings were, then as now, only too easily confused with unscientific speculations and downright wooly thinking. So Kant disguised his message, but left it clear enough for interested parties to discover.

But before we go one to that, there is that second broad clue I mentioned.

After reading about "instauration" as the book's motto, we then read that Kant has dedicated the Critique of Pute Reason (What I am suggesting might better be called the Critique of Reflection) to a particular state minister, one who was known for defending science, which no doubt meant bailing Kant out when the religious censor tried to stop him from publishing. Which did happen. In fact, Kant probably would not have been able to publish any of his mature philosophy if the censor had had his way; only Kant's status as a professor under State sponsorship forced the censor out of involvement with his publishing process. Grateful to the Baron von Zedlitz, Kant made sure to use a metaphor for vision in his dedication to him: "For someone who enjoys the life of speculation the approval of an enlightened and competent judge is, given his modest wishes, a powerful encouragement to toils whose utility is great, but distant, and hence is wholly misjudged by vulgar eyes." Kant then says "I commend all the remaining business of my literary vocation" to Baron von Zedlitz.

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